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Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
SEXY SOULS
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Chapter One
I was sitting at my computer when Katie came dashing into my
bedroom. She had eyes as big as saucers. Her blonde hair was tangled
from running down the street.
ÒYouÕll never bÕlieve what I saw!Ó Katie blurted to me.
ÒHmmm?Ó I asked. I glanced at her, then stared again at my
computer screen. I was writing a chain letter.
ÒRoses are REd and violets are bLue,
ÒIf you donÕt send this letter bad things will happen to U,Ó
I typed.
ÒI saw a man!Ó Katie yelled.
ÒGood for you,Ó I answered.
ÒHe came up out of a manhole!Ó Katie told me.
ÒMmmm?Ó I asked. We didnÕt have school today, and I was totally
into what I was doing. Why couldnÕt Katie go tell somebody else about her
man and his hole? ÒKatie, I am your best friend,Ó I told her. ÒBut that
doesnÕt mean you should just let yourself into my house whenever you feel
like--Ó
ÒAnd he had a tail!Ó Katie shouted.
I forgot about my chain letter.
ÒWhat do you mean he had a tail?Ó I asked Katie. ÒThe next thing you
know, youÕll tell me he had red suspenders too.Ó
Katie thought a moment. ÒBut he DID have red suspenders on!Ó Katie
said.
ÒKatie, April Fools was awhile ago,Ó I said.
ÒNo! IÕm not just making this up,Ó Katie insisted. ÒI was walking
home from school-- didnÕt you have any school today?Ó Katie asked. She
looked at what I was writing on my computer screen.
ÒIt was Staff Day, Katie,Ó I said.
ÒOh, too bad we didnÕt have Staff Day at my school,Ó Katie said.
ÒAnyways, I saw a man, and he looked like that guy you see on T.V. who
sells used tires.Ó
ÒDemon DanÕs Used Tire Emporium?Ó I asked.
ÒThatÕs it!Ó Katie said. She pointed at me. ÒExcept this guy wasnÕt
on T.V. He came up out of a manhole!Ó
ÒSo what am I supposed to do about it?Ó I asked Katie. WeÕd moved
recently, letting me live a lot closer to Katie. Now I wondered if it was
such a great idea. It sounded like she lived in a strange neighborhood.
ÒLetÕs go look at the manhole!Ó Katie said.
I thought for a moment. When youÕre 13, and your best friend is 12,
going to look at a manhole doesnÕt sound so ridiculous.
ÒOkay,Ó I said. I got up from my computer and together we went
outside.
The man walked along the street. He passed under a maple tree. It
was big and old and gnarled, and stood in front of a church. The church
was old. It had been built over 100 years ago, entirely from stone. Along
its walls, in decorative relief, were carved pictures. There were scenes
from Heaven, and from Hell. Angels of stone escorted the saved to the
former place. Devils took the damned to the latter. There were also,
perched along the walls of the church, statues of stone. Some were
saints. Others were less noble, gargoyles with pigÕs faces and dogÕs paws,
sporting batÕs wings. The man stopped under one of these gargoyles and
looked up at it.
ÒBarnabas, come down from that church,Ó the man with the
sunglasses said. He was tall. The sun glinted off the dark glasses he
wore, glowing red as it sank low over the rooftops of the town.
ÒMaster,Ó a hoarse voice croaked from the bat-like figure of stone.
The eyes of a saint rolled in his head. He watched as the gargoyle
leapt down from his perch on the wall of the church. The saint tried to
move, but he had not been called. Valiantly he held aloft, sharp and
unmoving in the sunset, his cross, as he had for so many years now.
Perhaps, he prayed, it would be enough. Then again, perhaps it would only
be a vanity. On the ground below him the gargoyle, called forth to life by
supernatural power, crouched obediently before the tall man with the
sunglasses.
ÒMaster,Ó the gargoyle croaked again. It stood on its chalky-grey,
suddenly limber hind legs of stone and looked with awed respect at the
knees of the figure that had called it. Its eyes rose up to the manÕs face.
He looked down at the creature.
ÒYes, Barnabas, it is I,Ó the man said. ÒI am going to give you a
human form. You wonÕt be particularly tall, but you will move without
notice through the people of this earth, able to work my will.Ó
ÒOh, yes! Master!Ó the gargoyle said. Its hot breath flowed from its
chest and it was surprised to find itself breathing.
Above, the saint sculpted in stone found that the supernatural power
was ebbing. It had liberated the gargoyle. As a side effect, being cast
along the wall of the building, it had permitted the saint to move his eyes.
But now he felt his eyes grow sluggish. Quickly he lifted his gaze. If he
was slow, he would stare down at the sidewalk for a very long time. He
gazed at the sun-drenched roofs of the houses that stretched for miles
around the church. He tried lifting his eyes higher, but found he could not.
He felt the life-force that had flitted within his eyes die. He stared, the
sun stared back at him, and the movement he had been capable of died
away. Down below him, on the street, a small man dressed in only a shirt
stood before a tall man with sunglasses.
ÒThere, it is done,Ó the tall man said with a wave of his hand.
ÒMaster, I have no pants,Ó the small dwarf-like figure said. He was
flesh-colored now, and his dog-paws were hands and feet. His wings were
gone. His pigÕs ears and snout were gone. But he still wore the medieval
shirt heÕd worn as a gargoyle, perched on the side of the church.
ÒAh, yes. That I cannot fix,Ó the man with the sunglasses said. He
reached down and picked up the dwarf. He couldnÕt help but look at the
small manÕs penis as he hefted him aloft.
ÒMaster, couldnÕt you make me bigger?Ó the dwarf croaked.
ÒIt is beyond my power,Ó the man with the sunglasses said. ÒHe
fights me every step of the way, you know.Ó The man with the sunglasses
glanced skyward.
ÒAh, yes, Master,Ó the dwarf agreed. The man with the sunglasses
perched the dwarf on a bough of the old maple tree.
ÒWait here,Ó the man with the sunglasses said. ÒI shall return with
a pair of pants for you. I have to go to a clothierÕs and buy them. Then IÕll
give you some money to rent a flat. You can begin to work my will here,
among these people.Ó
ÒYes, master!Ó the dwarf said gleefully.
The man with the sunglasses walked away. The dwarf climbed to a
higher branch in the tree, and hid among its leaves. A pigeon landed on the
cross of the saint carved in stone on the wall of the church. The saint
could do nothing. He could not even move his eyes, anymore. He held aloft
his stone cross as the pigeon went to the bathroom on it.
It was evening. I sat with Katie in the library.
ÒHere, this is what he looked like,Ó Katie said. She pointed at a
figure in a book. WeÕd been to the manhole but, like most manholes, it had
just stared up at us from the street. WeÕd tried lifting it. But it had been
too heavy.
ÒThatÕs Satan, Katie,Ó I said. Together we stared at a tall, dapper
man. He had a pointed chin and sharp ears. Horns stuck out of his head,
small and sharp. He had goatÕs legs and he held a pitchfork.
I heard someone talking behind us, beyond the wall of bookshelves
that separated our table from the next. I didnÕt pay attention. Instead I
stared at the book Katie was holding, mesmerized.
ÒThatÕs who I saw come up out of the manhole,Ó Katie told me in a
low, serious voice.
ÒReally?Ó I asked.
ÒWeally,Ó Katie said. She sounded scared.
ÒYou really think you saw the Devil today, donÕt you?Ó I asked her.
ÒYes, but it wasnÕt the guy who sells used tires on T.V.,Ó Katie
assured me. ÒAnyways, heÕs fat. This guy was very skinny, and tall.Ó
ÒDid he look like a goat?Ó I asked her, staring at the picture.
ÒNo,Ó Katie said. ÒHe had nice clothes on. Very nice clothes.
Business clothes, well-tailored.Ó
ÒAnd I want you to find someone for me,Ó the voice, soft and
insinuating in tone, said behind us, on the other side of the books.
ÒYes?Ó I heard a small voice croak in reply.
ÒShe has a name,Ó the voice said. ÒLet me see. I have it written
here.Ó
ÒI wish people wouldnÕt talk in the library,Ó I whispered to Katie.
ÒItÕs rude.Ó
ÒEspecially when weÕre trying to do research on Satan,Ó Katie
agreed.
ÒHere it is,Ó the voice said. ÒHereÕs her name. Pepperdine. Katie
Pepperdine.Ó
Katie gaped at me. I gaped at her.
ÒThatÕs me!Ó Katie said.
ÒMy--Ó I paused. It seemed unwise to say anything. Even by way of
exclamation. Slowly I turned my head. I gazed through a hole in the wall
of books behind us. I saw a man, a tall-looking man, wearing sunglasses,
even though we were indoors and it was nighttime.
Katie found my hand under the table and gripped it. Her palm felt
sweaty. Together, almost still as stones, we stared behind us at the
figure who could be seen on the other side of the books.
ÒFind Katie Pepperdine,Ó the small, hoarse voice croaked. I couldnÕt
see who it was. But I could see the man with the sunglasses. They
reflected the neon glow of the libraryÕs overhead lights. The man looked
tall, though he was sitting down at the moment. He nodded, smiled. He
was sitting with somebody, but neither Katie or I could see him.
Slowly I rose from my seat. I pulled Katie with me. We moved away
from the table weÕd been sitting at. We left the book open. We didnÕt dare
risk making a noise by closing it. It was big, and heavy. We stole to the
front of the library. Holding our breath, we went out the front doors as
fast as we could.
ÒCÕmon, Katie!Ó I said, clutching at her hand. We ran quickly down
the street.
We sat in my bedroom. Katie was afraid to go home.
ÒWhat do you do when Satan wants you?Ó Katie said to me. Her eyes
were even bigger than when sheÕd first dashed into my bedroom that
afternoon.
ÒYou, um, say Ôno,ÕÓ I answered. ÒLike, Ôsay no to drugs.ÕÓ
ÒI wonder if that will work?Ó Katie asked me.
ÒI donÕt think IÕd want to stand around and try it,Ó I replied.
ÒMe neither,Ó Katie agreed.
ÒThis reminds me of when we were in Candyland,Ó I told Katie.
ÒYes,Ó Katie said. ÒThat seems so long ago now. Oh, I wish I knew
what to do! We are the Bikini Brigade, but we arenÕt in Candyland
anymore.Ó
ÒI know,Ó I agreed.
ÒWe donÕt have our flying lollipops or our magical guns that shoot
marshmallow goop. And Pauline Praline isnÕt with us anymore, either,Ó
Katie said.
ÒWhy would Satan want you?Ó I asked Katie.
ÒI dunno,Ó Katie said.
ÒDid you steal any more Gummi Bears from the 7/11?Ó I asked her.
ÒNo,Ó Katie said in a hushed voice. ÒBut I got a free game off the
video game at Lazer Land,Ó Katie said. ÒBy kicking the machine.Ó
ÒI donÕt think that would make Satan come after you, do you?Ó I
asked.
ÒI hope not, or Molly McCoy is going to have Satan coming after her
too,Ó Katie told me. ÒSheÕs the one who taught me to kick the machine.Ó
ÒItÕs sort of silly to call the police,Ó I said.
ÒI donÕt think 911 would understand about a man coming up through a
man hole, and having a tail, and being Satan,Ó Katie said.
ÒLetÕs go to a priest!Ó I said. ÒIÕll bet thereÕs one in that big
Catholic Church near the 7/11.Ó
ÒYes! HeÕs supposed to know all about Satan!Ó Katie agreed.
ÒLetÕs go right now!Ó I told her.
ÒMy fellow Christians,Ó the priest intoned, sitting in his office,
reading from a typewritten sheet of paper. There was a knock at the door.
He looked up. ÒYes? Who is it, at this hour?Ó he asked.
ÒItÕs me! Katie Pepperdine,Ó Katie said. The door to the priestÕs
office stood open, but we felt we should knock anyway.
ÒCome in, my child,Ó the priest said. We stepped into his office. The
church was dark and quiet. I felt it was luck that we had managed to get
in the churchÕs front door. Or something. Perhaps our prayer that we said
on the way over here, to Jesus?
ÒOh, I was just about to lock up and leave. How lucky it is that I
caught you,Ó the priest said. We didnÕt know him, but he nodded
solicitously to us, as if we were old friends. ÒHow may I help you, my
children?Ó he asked, seeing that there were two of us.
ÒI saw Satan today!Ó Katie blurted. The priest gazed at her.
ÒSatan is an attempt by man to personify evil, little girl,Ó the priest
said. He smiled at Katie, then at me. ÒIs there anything else I can help
you children with?Ó he asked.
ÒSatanÕs after me!Ó Katie said in a loud voice. Then we both looked
quickly around, at the priestÕs open door, at the darkness of the unlit
interior of the church beyond. We moved closer to the priest. His big desk
separated us from him but we stood as close to the front of his desk as we
could. ÒHeÕs chasing me,Ó Katie said, her voice soft.
The priest laughed. ÒSatan is, IÕm afraid, chasing all of us,Ó the
priest said. ÒÔFor instance, little girl, have you done your homework
tonight?Ó the priest asked.
ÒNo,Ó Katie said.
ÒYou see? Here you are, visiting with me, and I do appreciate it, but
you have homework that needs to be done. ThatÕs Satan at work, my child,
inducing you to be lazy.Ó He lifted up his paper. ÒLook at me. I have to
attend a Convocation of Priests in the morning and should have written my
speech a long time ago. But I delayed. Now IÕve got to cram and try to get
it all finished tonight. Indolence, my child! ThatÕs the enemy of modern
man. He has too many modern conveniences, and it induces him to want to
do less and less. Why, I remember when I was in World War Two, on
Guadalcanal. We fought from sunup to sundown, with not a complaint from
any of us. Have you ever been to Guadalcanal, my child?Ó the priest asked.
ÒNo,Ó Katie said.
It was late when we got out of the priestÕs office. The moon was
riding high and cold in the clouds above us. I crossed my arms over my
blouse. We hadnÕt worn our jackets and I regretted it now.
ÒIÕm chilly,Ó Katie whispered to me.
ÒMe too,Ó I said.
ÒI know all about the Canal but I still donÕt know what to do about
Satan,Ó Katie told me.
ÒMe neither,Ó I said.
ÒYouÕve got to dig up Mr. OÕFlannery,Ó a voice said from some bushes.
ÒYeep!Ó Katie cried. She jumped down off the sidewalk. I turned.
There was a man standing close beside a bush, with a tall stone pillar at
his back. A rusted gate hung off the pillar. A shadow from a nearby tree
drowned the man in darkness. The light of the moon shone on myself and
Katie.
ÒWho are you?Ó I said in a frightened voice to the man.
ÒThat hardly matters,Ó the man said. He was shabbily dressed. He
lifted a paperbag to his mouth and, gripping it tightly, he drank from it. I
let my eyes dart to the rusted gate, and realized, with a shiver, that we
were next to the old churchÕs graveyard. The man was standing with a
shovel. He leaned its handle toward me. He seemed to want me to take it
from him.
Katie crept up to where I was standing on the sidewalk. I realized
that we were alone, behind the church, with this homeless bum. I
wondered what we should do.
ÒGo into the graveyard,Ó the man standing by the gate said. ÒDig up
Mr. OÕFlannery and take him down to the river. Toss him in. But whatever
you do, donÕt answer him if he speaks to you. Because, if you do, instead
of sending Satan back to Hell, youÕll send yourself there instead.Ó
ÒYouÕre a homeless bum,Ó Katie said in a frank, high-pitched voice.
ÒIÕm dead,Ó the man answered.
An adult would have had the good sense to faint, or something, but
Katie and I just stood and stared. The man peered out from the shadows at
us but, with one hand on his bottle of liquor, his other hand offering us the
handle of the shovel, he seemed strangely helpful, or at least too absorbed
with his liquor to do us any harm. He took another drink. He shivered,
sighed. He took another. ÒGod, thatÕs good,Ó he remarked.
ÒYouÕre a wino, too,Ó Katie told the man. She took my hand and held
it tightly. Together we stared at him.
ÒIÕm a wino and a slosh and a dead gravedigger,Ó the man said.
ÒMurdered on the job, no less, by Andrew Cunnanan. Perhaps you read
about it in the papers?Ó the man asked.
ÒNo,Ó Katie said. ÒI only read the comics in the papers.Ó
ÒWell,Ó the man said. He took another drink from his paper bag.
ÒThatÕs my problem, what happened to me. Perhaps it was a good thing. It
got me a ticket to Purgatory, instead of to Hell, where I was probably
headed, knowing the life IÕd led. Now IÕve been sent back. I get a free
bottle of liquor out of the deal,Ó the man said. He lifted the bag and
showed it to us. ÒYou get this shovel,Ó the man said. He offered us the
handle again, leaning it out toward us. ÒTake it. Go into the graveyard and
find the grave marked OÕFlannery. 1898-1968. Dig the old boy up. IÕll help
if you like. Or I can just enjoy my liquor. ItÕs up to you. HeÕs six feet
down, but IÕm no slouch if it comes to digging.Ó He swore. ÒDamn, I was
hoping not to offer my services. ThatÕs what happens when youÕre on a
mission from God. You wind up offering to do things youÕd never normally
do. Like helping people. Though you are rather pretty, miss.Ó He looked at
me. ÒYou too.Ó
ÒThanks,Ó I said. ÒWeÕre not really interested in your proposal,
though,Ó I told him.
ÒDo you always try to get dates with girls by offering to help them
dig up corpses?Ó Katie asked the man.
ÒReally, IÕm not trying to bother you,Ó the man said. ÒSatanÕs not
after me. HeÕs after you.Ó
I felt Katie squeeze my hand very tightly. Her hand was warm in the
cold night air. I shivered. I think I felt her shiver too.
ÒOh, why do I have to dig up a corpse?Ó Katie blurted. She said it
with a kind of sob, and when I looked at her, I saw tears in her eyes.
ÒBecause Persephone has divorced Satan,Ó the man said.
ÒHuh?Ó I asked.
ÒWho?Ó Katie asked.
ÒWe really should get digging, but I suppose a quick explanation is in
order,Ó the man said. Then, belying his statement, he paused and took a
long draught from his paper bag. When he finally put his hand with the bag
back down, he smacked his lips. ÒYou see,Ó he said. ÒPersephone and
Satan had a spat. I have no idea what about. But the upshot of it is, sheÕs
ÔdivorcedÕ Satan. She canÕt really divorce him, of course, sheÕs his wife
for eternity. But try telling that to Persephone. So SatanÕs come up to
earth to find a new wife. Namely, you.Ó
ÒMe?Ó Katie said. ÒBut IÕm only 12!Ó
The man smiled. ÒYes, and heÕs Satan,Ó the man replied.
ÒHe shouldnÕt like little girls like me,Ó Katie said.
ÒOh, look whoÕs talking, I said. You like Nick, donÕt you? And he
likes you. How old is he?Ó
ÒHeÕs 27,Ó Katie said.
ÒSee?Ó I told her.
ÒBut Satan is like, one million!Ó Katie said.
ÒYep,Ó the man with the paper bag said. He took another long swig
from his bottle. ÒI have to go back to purgatory when this bottleÕs
empty,Ó the man said. ÒSo hurry up and make up your minds.Ó
ÒHow-- how can we send Satan back to Hell?Ó Katie blurted.
ÒWithout me.Ó
ÒI told you. By digging up Mr. OÕFlannery,Ó the man said. ÒDig him up
and take him down to the river and throw him in.Ó
ÒWhy?Ó I asked.
ÒYes. We donÕt want to be carrying around a corpse,Ó Katie said. ÒI
donÕt even carry a purse, because it might get in the way if I want to
play!Ó
ÒMe neither,Ó I said.
ÒIn order to send Satan back to Hell, you must do an act of extreme
piety,Ó the man said. ÒMr. OÕFlannery wanted to be cremated at his death,
and have his ashes thrown in the river. ItÕs not expected that you would go
to the trouble of burning him up, of course. You are just two girls. If you
throw him in the river, as was his wish, the fish will take care of the
rest.Ó
ÒBut why me?Ó Katie said.
ÒBecause your third cousin, Geoffrey Johnson, killed Mr. OÕFlannery,
back in 1968,Ó the grave digger replied.
ÒBut I wasnÕt even born in 1968!Ó Katie said.
ÒMe neither!Ó I said.
ÒI know that,Ó the man said. He glanced into his paper bag. ÒLook,
this bottle is getting awfully low. I vanish the minute itÕs empty. Do you
want me to dig down through six feet of earth for you, and help you carry
Mr. OÕFlannery down to the river, and throw him in, or do you want to do it
yourself?Ó
ÒOook! I dunno,Ó Katie said. She put a finger to her mouth. ÒAll I
know is, IÕve never heard of anybody named Johnson.Ó
ÒNeither has your mother,Ó the man agreed. ÒNonetheless, he is one
of your relations, and he killed Mr. OÕFlannery. You might say that this has
put a curse on your family. It wasnÕt really important to you, of course.
You havenÕt been having any bad luck lately, have you?Ó the man asked.
ÒNo, except that SatanÕs after me,Ó Katie said.
ÒThatÕs entirely a different matter,Ó the man said. ÒThe point is,
your family has a curse on it, so that dictates what the act of extreme
piety is that you must perform to allow God to be convinced of your
holiness and to send Satan back to Hell.Ó
ÒSo if I do something really holy, God will, like, do a favor for me?Ó
Katie asked.
ÒYes,Ó the man said. ÒHeÕll send Satan back to Hell.Ó
ÒWill he give me a million dollars?Ó Katie asked.
ÒNo,Ó the man said. ÒGo play the Monopoly game at McDonalds if you
want a million dollars. What God will do for you, for your extreme act of
piety, is heÕll send Satan back to Hell. Period. ThatÕs it. ThatÕs the deal.
And IÕll help you, taking the curse off your family in the process, by
digging up Mr. OÕFlannery and helping you carry him down to the river so he
can be buried as he wished.
ÒWhy didnÕt his relatives bury him in the river like they were
supposed to?Ó Katie asked.
ÒBecause he died suddenly, and only he, Mr. OÕFlannery, knew that he
wanted to be cremated and have his ashes spread in the river.Ó The man
took a small, slow sip from his paper bag. He had to tilt the bag up high
and I could see that it was almost empty.
ÒDonÕt dwink any more of that!Ó Katie yelled, her eyes wide. The man
took the paper bag from his lips.
ÒThatÕs what happens when you donÕt make a Will,Ó the man said.
ÒWhich is why just throwing him in the river will be good enough for God.Ó
ÒGive me that bag,Ó Katie said.
ÒItÕs mine,Ó the man said. Katie reached out and took it from him.
ÒYou can have it back later,Ó Katie said. She pointed toward the rusty
gate. ÒGet in there and start digging.Ó
ÒKatie,Ó I said. ÒHow do we even know this guyÕs telling the truth?Ó
ÒHe can get digging, whether heÕs telling the truth or not,Ó Katie
said. She kept her finger pointed at the gate.
ÒA woman who takes command. I like that,Ó the man said. He lifted
his shovel and, with a quick glance at the bag Katie was holding, headed
over to the gate. It was already hanging open. He pushed on it and it
squeaked and eased inward, into the grave yard.
ÒWhy does Satan want to marry Katie?Ó I asked the man. He lifted
his free hand, as if to take another drink, then remembered that Katie was
holding the bag with his bottle in it.
ÒBecause Katie is going to play Mary in the Christmas play at this
church next Christmas,Ó the man said.
ÒI am?!Ó Katie asked. ÒMy mom and me donÕt even go to church.
Except sometimes on Easter, and Christmas,Ó Katie said.
ÒExactly,Ó the man said. ÒAnd next Christmas, that priest who was
so little help to you girls tonight, will say to himself, ÔWho should play
Mary in our Christmas play?Õ And then heÕll say, ÔHow about that little
girl who came by to see me one night? What was her name? That girl,
who so sweetly listened while I told her all about Guadalcanal, and who
was so worried about Satan! She must be a very moral little girl-- the
perfect girl to play Mary!Õ And then heÕll look out into the congregation,
and there youÕll be, sitting with your mother, because it will be one of
those Sundays that your mother happened to take you to church.Ó
ÒHow do you know all this?Ó Katie asked, hurrying along behind the
man as he led us into the grave yard.
ÒA half-angel like me, doing time in purgatory, can see a little bit
into the future,Ó the man said. ÒAnd they told it to me on the way down,
on the way back down to earth tonight,Ó he added.
ÒSo, why would Satan care who plays Mary?Ó I asked.
The man turned. We were standing amidst creepy-looking old graves.
The moon, high overhead before, had begun to sink into the western sky.
ÒMary? The mother of God?Ó the man said. ÒWho do you think heÕd
want for his wife?Ó
ÒA stripper!Ó Katie said.
ÒWhat good is corrupting a stripper?Ó the man asked. He looked
down at Katie and smiled. ÒNo, Katie. Satan enjoys strippers, but he
would never marry one. Its a pure, wholesome little girl like you he
wants, a girl who a priest already has in the back of his mind to play Mary,
the Mother of God, in the Christmas play!Ó
ÒYikes!Ó Katie said.
ÒThis is beginning to make sense,Ó I said, standing with a man who
was admittedly dead, in a grave yard, who was asking us if we needed help
unburying a corpse. I looked at the man. I looked at Katie. I turned my
gaze to the man again and said, ÒSo Persephone gets mad at Satan and
tells him sheÕs divorcing him. And Satan, mad at Persephone, says heÕs
going to get himself a new wife. So he picks Katie, because sheÕs
supposedly this very pure, wholesome little girl, whoÕs going to play Mary
in the Christmas play.Ó
ÒSupposedly?Ó Katie said. ÒSupposedly?Ó
ÒKatie, I know you,Ó I said. ÒAnyway, Katie, by doing an act of
extreme piety, can send Satan back to Hell. For her family, since one of
her relatives killed somebody, the act of extreme piety is to help the
person who was killed. By throwing him in the river, since that was what
he wished for as his final resting place?Ó
ÒExactly,Ó the man said. ÒGod, I sure am glad Satan didnÕt pick a 6-
year-old for his wife. WeÕd be standing around here all night!Ó
ÒYes, well, IÕm 12,Ó Katie said. ÒAnd you need to get digging.Ó
ÒCould I have just one little drink please?Ó the man asked, eyeing
the bag Katie was holding.
ÒNO!Ó Katie said. ÒGet digging. Dig up that dude-- whatÕs his
name?Ó
ÒMr. OÕFlannery,Ó the man said. ÒYouÕre doing an act of extreme
piety, Katie. Try to be respectful of the dead. That includes me, since IÕm
dead too.Ó
ÒYouÕre a fruitcake,Ó Katie said. Then she looked at the big shovel
the man was holding and added, ÒBut handy with a shovel. Find that O dude
and dig him up!Ó
ÒKatie,Ó I said. I tugged on her arm. It was soft and cold. We were
both inadequately dressed, in just our blouses and jeans, given the chill in
the air. ÒLetÕs just go home, Katie,Ó I said.
ÒI must do an act of extreme piety,Ó Katie told me.
ÒKatie!Ó I yelled. I felt quite nervous, standing here, even if it was
sort of all making sense, in a strange way. This grave yard seemed the
perfect place to get kidnapped by Satan or, frankly, anyone else who came
along.
ÒIÕm Mary in the Christmas play,Ó Katie told me. ÒTry to show some
respect when youÕre addressing me.Ó
We found the grave. We watched as the dead man with the shovel
began digging. It was rather odd, I thought, watching a dead man dig up
another dead man. But thatÕs the sort of life you have when Katie is your
best friend. Meanwhile, when she wasnÕt supervising the man, telling him
how to dig and that he should dig faster, she was admiring the back of the
church. Already she could see herself inside it, standing proudly in front
of the altar, playing Mary in the Christmas play, holding a real baby that
was the baby Jesus.
About an hour after he started, the man struck wood.
ÒWhatÕs that?Ó Katie asked, leaning over the big hole the man had
dug in the ground and peering down into it.
ÒItÕs a coffin,Ó the man said. He wiped his brow.
ÒA coffin?!Ó Katie cried.
ÒYes,Ó the man said. ÒWeÕre digging up a corpse.Ó
ÒWhat if Count DraculaÕs in that coffin?Ó Katie asked, pointing down
into the hole.
ÒI already told you. ItÕs Mr. OÕFlannery thatÕs in this coffin,Ó the
gravedigger, standing down in the hole, replied. He began prying at the lid.
ÒDonÕt open it!Ó Katie shrieked.
ÒI have to. IÕm not carrying the whole damn box down to the river,Ó
the man said. ÒAnyway, the box is quite deteriorated. IÕm sure the
maggots have already gotten in there and eaten what they want by now.
ÒMaggots?!Ó Katie shouted.
ÒGood God!Ó I cried. A horrible odor came up from the hole as the
man pried back the lid.
ÒHmmm,Ó the man said. ÒThereÕs a few things crawling around in
here.Ó
ÒEEEEEEEEEEEEK!Ó Katie screamed. She went running out of the grave
yard. The only person who yelled louder and ran faster was me.
ÒI told you-- itÕs an act of extreme piety!Ó the grave digger called
after us. ÒThey arenÕt meant to be easy.Ó
ÒDear God, please send Satan back to Hell, and get rid of that damn
corpse,Ó Katie, on her knees outside the grave yard, was praying when the
grave digger walked out and found us. I was kneeling in the grass beside
Katie.
ÒKatie,Ó the man said. ÒGod knows you havenÕt been praying to Him
on a regular basis. Doing it now, when youÕre in a pinch, isnÕt going to
make a very big impression.Ó
ÒWell, HeÕs supposed to answer my prayers!Ó Katie said. She looked
up at the grave digger. Her eyes were wide, and reflected the moon.
ÒGod isnÕt a vending machine, Katie,Ó the grave digger replied. ÒYou
donÕt just stick a prayer in and get what you want. Now, things might be
different if youÕd been praying regularly. But since you donÕt say grace at
dinner, and donÕt say your prayers at night when you go to sleep, you donÕt
have any credit built up. Frankly, I think youÕre getting a pretty good deal
here, with God laying everything out that youÕve got to do, and sending me
down to help you.Ó
I stood up. I looked at the man. He reached for the bag that Katie
had placed in the grass. I caught his arm. It felt very cold. It had no pulse
at all. I looked into his eyes and realized he wasnÕt breathing. Somehow, I
managed to say, ÒLook. LetÕs get that fucking body and take it down to the
river and toss him in. Okay? Then you can have your bag, and we will
insist that you finish your liquor and get the Hell out of here,Ó I told him.
Katie was staring at me with big eyes. ÒDonÕt say that word,Ó Katie
said.
ÒWhat word?Ó I asked her.
ÒWhere Satan lives,Ó Katie said. ÒI donÕt want to go there.Ó
ÒWhere am I?Ó a voice cried. The grave digger spun around.
ÒItÕs the corpse!Ó the grave digger cried. ÒCÕmon!Ó He hurried back
into the grave yard but turned at the gate and said to us, ÒRemember.
Whatever you do, donÕt answer the corpse if he speaks to you.Ó
ÒOkay!Ó Katie said.
We walked up to the hole. It loomed large and black in the ground.
There was a big pile of fresh earth beside it. I smelled dirt, wetness, and
something else. Flesh. But it was a very foul smell and I found myself
standing near the graveÕs edge, with my fingers clamped tightly over my
nose. The grave digger turned and looked at me. He looked at Katie.
ÒWhateferÕs down there stinks weally bad!Ó Katie told the grave
digger bluntly, holding her nose tight with both hands.
ÒThat would be Mr. OÕFlannery,Ó the grave digger said.
ÒWell, DO something about it,Ó Katie insisted, still holding her nose.
The grave digger sighed. ÒYouÕre lucky IÕm a half-angel, or IÕd stink too,Ó
he told her. Then he lifted his eyes to heaven. He raised his arms.
ÒDear God, as we transport this dearly departed soul down to his
wished-for resting place, the Sticks River, I ask that you cause your little
helpers to be able to do their assigned task, without smelling his sinful
bodily odor.Ó
ÒDammit! This is my best suit. And itÕs all dirty!Ó a voice said from
deep within the hole.
Slowly I took my hands off my nose. Somehow, the awful smell had
abated. KatieÕs hands popped of her face and she drew in a tentative
breath.
ÒIt donÕt smell so bad now,Ó Katie said.
ÒGood,Ó the grave digger said. ÒI canÕt breathe, so I wouldnÕt know.
Now letÕs get Mr. OÕFlannery down to the river, shall we? It will be dawn
in a few hours. This sort of task canÕt be done under the light of the sun.
And I will be whisked back to purgatory at dawn, regardless of whether or
not IÕve finished my liquor.Ó He looked wistfully at the paper bag I was
holding. Then he turned. He climbed down into the grave.
ÒOuch!Ó an unfamiliar voice cried as the grave digger disappeared
into the hole.
I waited for our half-angel to say something in reply, but he said
nothing. Then I remembered what heÕd told us: ÒDonÕt answer it if it
speaks.Ó
Katie walked up to the edge of the hole. A head popped up. Its eyes
were open wide and it stared up at us.
ÒLook at me! IÕm late for the Conference on Stopping the War, and
my suitÕs all dirty!Ó the face exclaimed to us. Despite having wide-open
eyes, the head seemed rather listless. The grave digger, standing down in
the grave, pushed the body the head was attached to up out of the grave
and let it fall in the grass near our feet. Then, as Katie and I stared at the
corpse with the wildly moving eyes, the grave digger climbed up out of
the hole in the earth.
ÒIÕm late. Late!Ó the body cried to us. ÒFor a very important date.Ó
ÒShut up. YouÕre sÕposed to be dead,Ó Katie said to the man lying in
his best business suit in the grass.
ÒAUCHGHGHGH!Ó the grave digger, half in the grave and half out of
the grave, cried in a loud voice. He trembled. He shook. He raised his
arms quickly to Heaven as he screamed, and then he tumbled back down
into the grave. I felt a deep shudder pass through my body.
I looked at Katie. She looked at me. We were still standing in the
grave yard, and the corpse was still lying at our feet. Slowly, up out of
the hole came the grave digger.
ÒDo NOT answer the corpse if it speaks to you,Ó the grave digger
shouted at Katie. ÒHe is going to the land of the Dead, and unless you want
to go in his place, youÕll say not another word!Ó
Katie put her hands to her face. Tears sprang to her eyes. She
looked down at the dead man lying at her feet. He looked up at her.
Slowly, a maggot emerged from his mouth.
ÒEEEEEEK!Ó Katie cried, through her hands.
ÒIÕm to address the Students Against the War,Ó the corpse implored
Katie.
The grave digger, standing now at the manÕs head, the soft grass
under his feet, the hole beside him, bent over. He seized the manÕs
shoulders, gently, and lifted him.
ÒStop the War,Ó the man murmured.
Steeling myself, seeing what was required, I picked up one of the
manÕs feet. I motioned to Katie to pick up his other foot.
Slowly, we carried the dead corpse out of the grave yard. We walked
past the rusted, half-open gate. We crossed the street. We walked up
another street, staying out of the lamp lights that shone on the side walk
there. We passed in front of peopleÕs homes. I wondered if they had any
inkling that a man who had died in 1968 was being carried past.
ÒStop the War!Ó the man we were carrying hollared. I wanted to tell
him to shut up, but couldnÕt. His voice echoed up and down the empty
street. The moon raced quickly down the western sky toward moonset, no
more than an hour away. I looked to the east. Was it growing brighter
there? I hoped not. I looked at the grave digger and wanted to ask him,
ÒHow long Ôtil dawn? How long?!Ó but I dared not. I looked at Katie,
holding the corpseÕs other foot. Her big eyes looked back at me. There
was a wiggle to the manÕs feet, as if he was trying to break free of my
grasp. I held on tightly. Katie almost dropped his foot when it wiggled,
but somehow managed to keep her hands around it.
I smelled the river. We were getting close to it now. Only another
block or so remained. I walked faster, as did the others. The corpse lifted
his head and looked intently at Katie. I shivered.
ÒI remember you,Ó the corpse said to her.
ÔGood God!Õ I thought. How could this man remember Katie? He and
she were never alive on the earth at the same time! She was born long
after 1968, as was I.
ÒYou were in the 1967 Christmas play,Ó the man said to Katie. ÒYes,
I remember you. You did very well, young lady! But why is my suit so
dirty? Did I fall down into that hole?Ó
I looked at Katie. With my staring eyes, I implored her not to answer
the corpse. She understood, said nothing.
ÒVery well indeed!Ó the corpse said to Katie. ÒAll of you, and your
little friends, did very well. Hmmmm,Ó the corpse said. ÒIÕm trying to
remember what part it is, exactly, that you played. Was it one of the Wise
Men? No, only boys could play Wise Men. Were you one of the shepherds,
little girl? No, only a boy could be a shepherd. Ah, yes! I know. You girls,
the ones who couldnÕt be Mary, you played the various Angels, and the
animals too.Ó
I felt the corpse jerk. I darted my eyes at Katie. She had practically
dropped the manÕs foot, when he spoke of the animals. ÔDonÕt pay any
attention,Õ I wanted to say to Katie, but I kept my lips tightly shut. I
looked frantically at the grave digger. CouldnÕt he shut up this damn
corpse? Then, staring up at his tall, moving figure, I remembered that he
was dead too. We walked in silence, none of us saying anything. Except
the corpse.
ÒNow, which animal did you play, little girl?Ó the corpse asked
Katie. ÒWas it the cow?Ó He looked at Katie, expecting an answer. She
didnÕt say anything. We passed by a warehouse. I turned my head and saw
the glint of the river, moving swiftly in the dark night. ÒWas it the
camel?Ó the corpse asked Katie. ÒOh, now I remember!Ó the corpse said
triumphantly. He grinned at his power of recall. ÒNow I remember! I
remember your blonde hair, yes. You played the ass!Ó
ÒThe ass?!Ó Katie shouted.
There was a clap of thunder. I tried to hold on to the foot of the man
I was carrying, but it slipped from my fingers. I felt a whirl of air all
around me. And as the thunderclap ringing in my ears subsided, I found
myself in a deep, dark place, with a cavernous roof overhead and fires
burning for miles into the distance.
I stared into the blackness all around me, illuminated only by
flames. I became aware that I was standing all alone, amidst some large
rocks, except for a small, white figure, standing beside me. I turned. I
found myself staring at KatieÕs big eyes. I felt a shudder of fear run
through me. I felt a deep sense of forboding. I looked for the corpse. He
was nowhere to be seen. I looked for the grave digger. He was not here,
and here was not where weÕd been. It was not anyplace IÕd ever been.
Long, stone walls stretched for miles above us, to our right. To the left, I
saw vast plains, stretching for rocky mile after rocky mile, finally lost
amidst ever-richer fires.
ÒThanks, Katie,Ó I said. I looked again at her, standing small and
big-eyed beside me.
ÒNo pwoblem,Ó Katie said in reply, in a hushed voice.
30
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