THE VILLAGE : Part 13 - Have You Allowed Jesus Into Your Heart?

This is Bodmin Moor (Goon Brenn in the Cornish language). One of 5 granite plutons in the area, it has been continuously inhabited for well over 5,000 years. Trivia: Cornwall is made up of a lot of granite, which means you cannot build a nuclear power station there. The background radiation level greatly exceeds all safety standards.

(the copyright for this picture belongs to Cornwall Life)

Hell is other people, wrote Jean Paul Sartre. In between quaffing pints of champagne with all his Nazi friends. Oddly enough when they lost he suddenly became much more liberal in his views. Illustrating the fact that he, like the vast majority of other philosophers, could talk the talk but couldn't walk the walk. They very rarely stick to their own philosophy. Possibly because all philosophies are bullshit and intended for other people to live by. Just because you make the rules doesn't mean you have to follow them. Those philosophers were only human after all. Although the jury is still out concerning Sartre. Who may well have been a badly shaved gorilla.

Michael Penrose, librarian, a man living on the edge? No. Obviously not. He was more a man standing on a ledge. Shouting obscenities at the world through a megaphone. Permanently annoyed with everything and everyone. He had very few friends. Yet the fact he had any at all was remarkable. There were a few people he liked and a slightly larger number he tolerated. The rest of humanity could go fuck themselves as far as he was concerned. This Saturday morning he was feeling upbeat. In anyone else it might have been mistaken for optimism or happiness. In him it merely meant someone was going to get it today. He'd worked out exactly what he was going to do with this weekend. Basically this boiled down to absolutely nothing. This was not exceptional as far as his weekends went. Michael rarely did anything every weekend. What made this one exceptional was that he'd planned to do nothing instead of simply letting nothing happen all on its own. This might be mistaken for some kind of progress. It wasn't. He'd be back to his usual self by Monday at the very latest.

While Michael, noted for his loafing, had been up and about since dawn his housemate was still in slumber land. Today Luke was taking his daughter out to spend some time with her daddy. He'd set his alarm clock for seven thirty as usual. Not wanting to miss any time with little Amy. Dave the Wave would be picking him up at 8:45 for the journey to Looe. His day had been all planned out as well. Only Luke's day was filled with things he'd do with his daughter. Places they'd visit. Attractions he had free tickets for or that didn't cost a lot. There's something that only poor people are aware of. That the only thing worse than not being able to buy your children gifts and treats, is them knowing and understanding you can't. Their big eyes, in their little cherubic faces, go wide with excitement at shiny things. Before the sadness appears at the knowledge they aren't for them and never will be.

The radio alarm trilled. Luke sat up instantly awake, with the joy of having his little girl's company. Only he couldn't sit up. He couldn't move his arms or legs. Luke was firmly fastened to his bed. From his chest down to his feet he was helplessly immobile. He'd hardly had time to figure that out before his bed room door flew open. Slamming against the wall in a shower of dust and paint chips. An ominous masked figure entered, carrying what had to be a chainsaw. Luke squealed in terror as the chainsaw roared into life. Blue grey smoke and the stench of two stroke. Terrified eyes were locked on the wildly spinning blade as at carved the air. Closer and closer until the masked intruder was standing at the foot of the bed. Luke couldn't hear a word of what the chainsaw wielding maniac was saying. All he knew was that the figure was shouting at him. The chainsaw sputtered to a halt.

"Bollocks. That's not going to work is it." Michael lifted his mask, giving Luke a maniacal grin with a sinister waggle of the eyebrows. "It's plan B then."
Luke tried to scream but whatever was holding him down was also restricting his breathing. Michael had exited the door only to return. This time with an ax. An ax that had been carefully sharpened to a razor's edge. An ax that was swung back. This couldn't possibly be happening. Not even Michael would plant an ax in a helpless mans skull.
"Jesus save me." Luke presumed those would be his last words. That ax descended with a sharp clunk and two halves of a log fell either side of Luke's head. Michael loomed over him. His face only a couple of inches away. Luke blinked rapidly. Firmly trapped between panic and incomprehension.
"It's come to my attention." Michael growled, "That you have been spreading false rumors about me."
"I swear to God the redeemer I haven't."
"You told Darcy Young my bark was worse than my bite. LIAR! You told her that I had hidden depths and wasn't that bad really. Now I'm someone who has gone to a lot of trouble proving how dreadful I am. How do you think it makes me feel? Knowing that you are undermining all my efforts eh? How do you think I feel?
Luke floundered.
"Um. Uh. I supposed you feel.."
Michael cut him off loudly.
"Wrong! I am a man. I don't have feelings. That was a trick question. Now. Answer me this non-trick question. Did you just piss yourself?"
Luke nodded very energetically.
"A little bit. I think."
"No you don't! Nothing your brain is capable of could be classified as thinking. That's why I've had to teach you using the medium of feelings. It's the only thing you seem capable of understanding. Now, final question, so think very carefully before you answer. Have you learned your lesson?"
"Yes." Luke attempted to move again. He failed. "How.. How did you do this?" He struggled to indicate his chest to toe bindings.
"Pallet wrap. While you were asleep I sneaked in and wound it round you and the bed."
"Are you going to release me? Please?"
Penrose drew a huge hunting knife. Turning it to catch the light. Before slicing through the clear film.
"This is for you." Michael pulled out a grubby envelope laying it on the side table while Luke sat up.
"What's this for?" He asked. There was a wedge of notes inside. At least a months pay.
"It's your cut." Michael replied before cursing his own stupidity.
"My cut of what?"
"I don't know. Doogie and Doidge gave it to me. They told me to tell you it was your cut. Unlike you I don't ask stupid, idiotic questions. If you ask them they'll be only too happy to explain I expect. Make sure you tell them the exact amount I gave you. They were very insistent you get your cut." He turned the knife a bit more. then spoke to himself. "Nah. I'd never get back all the money he owes me. Rise and shine lazy bones. The sooner you off fuck the sooner I relax can."

Scaring the shit out of his unwanted lodger had energized Michael to the point that he very nearly felt like lounging in the garden. It was a sunny day. The weather was warm for the time of year. Why not? There were a host of reasons. He'd be a lot further from the kitchen. It would mean setting the hammock up. The large TV would have to be moved to the window and with the angle of the sun he'd be hardly able to see it clearly. That was only the start. Still, he'd thought about it at the very least. Things were looking up. When he was lying down he'd be looking up even more. The sensation of not being angry settled into very unfamiliar surroundings. Namely him. This was perfect. Shit for brains was away until the following evening. He'd bookmarked all the things he'd be watching. No clear order yet. Maybe he'd alternate between the different series. He sat down in his own ass print on the comfortable sofa. Interlocked his hands behind his head and leaned back. There was a knock at the door. Something had the nerve to knock at his door during his weekend.

Almost everybody has opened their door, as Michael was about to do, only to be temporarily blinded by two or more billion kilowatt smiles. Billion kilowatt smiles carrying a thick, generally black, book. The two men eased back on the dental illumination then attempted to speak. Michael pressed his fingers to both of their mouths. Shutting them up before they'd even started. He indicate he'd need a moment, then went back in. A few seconds later he returned. Set up the folding chair and leaned the shotgun against the door jamb. Their big shiny religious eyes regarded it with bovine incomprehension. Michael took his seat.

"I might be going hunting later."
"Is it loaded?" One of them asked.
"No. I'm not a gun expert, but they rarely have bank accounts. If it is I've not seen any of it that's certain. What would it need money for anyway? Gentlemen, how may I help you?"
"Good morning friend.."
"No. I'm not your friend. We've only recently met. I hardly know anything about you. Basically all that's happened is that you've knocked on my door and I've answered it." He'd then thought Jesus Christ it's Jesus Christ. Yet again. Only he didn't vocalize that bit. The men were mildly perplexed. Despite this they plowed on as only the terminally stupid can.
"Well fri... sir, have you allowed Jesus into your heart and home?"
"As a matter of fact yes. He's upstairs now taking a shower. Was it him you wanted to speak to? Only he's a bit busy at the moment. Using shampoo and conditioner really slows him down. I keep telling him but he never listens. I can take a message if you like. Don't expect it to do much good though. He rarely calls back. That's how he rolls baby."
"Surely you don't expect us to believe..."
"You think I'm lying? You think Jesus isn't in my bathroom? Gentlemen I'm shocked. Jesus is God right?"
"He's part of the Holy Trinity yes, but.."
"Well done. That's right. Jesus is God. God is omnipresent. That means God is everywhere at the same time. If he's everywhere then he must be in my shower. One third of the God in my shower has to be Jesus. The other two thirds I cannot speak for."
"Sir that cannot be the case."
"You do mean the same Jesus right? About yay big." Michael's hand moved up and down between hip and cheat height. "Long hair and a beard. That's why he needs all that conditioner I expect."
The secondary god botherer decided to join in.
"Jesus loves each and every one of us equally."
"Whoa. Too much information pal. It's none of my business what he gets up to in his free time. Let's not judge him. As long as it's all consensual adults it's none of my concern. If you think he's a danger to anyone, you must do what your conscience tells you. I'm staying out of it."
The poor bastards waded further out of their depth. By attempting to ignore him.
"It is only through Jesus we can enter the kingdom of Heaven fr.. sir."
"Is this heaven good then?"
"Well yes of course. You enter into the presence of God and live in eternal happiness. Only through Jesus can anyone find eternal redemption and immortality."
"Well sign me up then. What do I have to do?"
"You must believe in Jesus. You only have to accept him into your heart.."
"That sounds a bit too easy to me. He's upstairs in my shower so I definitely believe in him. I've accepted him with my entire body. To be honest I've even been using his shampoo and conditioner. So I'm pretty much sorted. I don't have to do anything and I'll end up in eternal bliss. Are you sure there isn't more to it than that?"
"No sir you misunderstood. By accepting Jesus into your heart you are agreeing to only do as he would do. You must only do good. You must do the good that Jesus has taught us to do or you will not be permitted to dwell in Heaven."
"What do you mean by good though? I mean if I started killing swans or spreading rumors about everyone I don't like, would that be good? And boy there are a lot of people I don't like. Especially around here. Is it good to do the things I'd like to do or is it only good to do the things Jesus likes to do. Like take showers. Effectively what I'm saying is how do I know what good is?"
They stupidly thought they were on safer ground here.
"One must accept Christ as their savior. He washes away all our sins. Then you must follow his example of only doing good. You must be charitable and unselfish. Treat others as you would wish to be treated. Each act of kindness you do brings you closer to him. For does it not say in the Good Book.."
"Yeah I know what it says in the Good Book. I've read it. Actually the way I'm feeling right now I could do with a whole heap of rape, incest and genocide."
"You're joking again."
"No. That was irony, but carry on with the sales pitch."
"Well if you do good deeds in the name of Jesus your reward comes in Heaven. Once you've accepted his grace."
At this point Michael dropped his bomb that had been prepared well in advance.
"No. It's ridiculous. It's also impossible."
"Nothing is impossible through the light of Jesus."
"Of course it is. You stated that the only way to Heaven is by being good and unselfish. Your system renders that impossible. It's not logical. What would you say being in Heaven is worth?"
"It's worth far more than all the wealth of earth."
"Well there you go then. If I accept Jesus then do good deeds like charity I'm only doing them for a reward. That reward is worth far more than anything I could ever give. Any good deed I do is thus rendered selfish as I expect to receive far more in return. If I give a meal to a homeless person then receive at least a million times that in return I'm an awful human being. That can't be good can it? You've wasted not only my time but your own. Worse still you've made Jesus look like an idiot. As soon as he gets out of the shower I'm going to tell him all about you. You going around from door to door. Selfishly pretending to do good things while all the time you're simply trying to worm your way into Jesus' good books. He's not going to like it."
"No that's..."
"Yes it is. The logic is inescapable. Only doing good things because you expect a huge reward is not doing good things. It's putting tiny amounts into an endowment you will collect after you're dead, and therefore evil and selfish. I thought you were decent human beings. Turns out you're selfish pricks only out for yourselves. Good day gentlemen. Just in time to. He needs a clean towel."
Saying this, Michael folded up the chair and closed the door. That had almost been fun. He watched their shadows retreat through the frosted glass. Now if he didn't know better he'd suspect this had been set up. There were only a few people who'd do that. If he ever found out he'd have to thank them. Now he had something to moan about for the next week or so.