by Arnold Snyder
The spaghetti was delicious. We polished off a bottle of Chardonnay, then ordered a Chianti and finished that too. I was drunk on my ass and so was Lulu. We were sitting there gazing fondly into each other’s eyes and I was really starting to get the feeling I could go for this girl—something I hadn’t felt for anyone in more years than I wanted to think about. I was about to suggest to her that we get a room in the motel down the block.
“I keep having visions of what it would be like to have sex with you,” she said, as if divining my thoughts. “I’ve never even seen you naked, but I’m having these visions.”
“You’re not having visions, Lulu. The only way you could be having visions would be if I gave them to you and I’m not giving you any visions.”
“Is that true?”
“Of course it’s true,” I said with finality. I wasn’t trying to give her visions.
“Then I have to thank you for these awesome fucking images that are racing through my brain. You truly are a dirty old man and I don’t mean that in a bad way.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Can you change the shapes of your body parts however you want?” she said.
“You don’t like my body?”
“I love your body. I’m just envisioning some new ways you could be using it on me.”
“Oh, this is really choice. You’re mentally redesigning my body. Are you forgetting who’s God around here?”
“Don, you already told me I’m getting these visions from you. Don’t act so surprised. You know everything. How long can you make your tongue?”
“What do you mean how long?”
“I keep thinking about kissing you.”
“My tongue is plenty long enough for that, but can’t we just talk about something else? Sex is only good if it happens naturally.”
“But when I think about us kissing, your tongue is so long, so unbelievably long and you snake it into my mouth and it’s alive and squirming and it tickles the edges of my throat, almost making me gag, but then it enters my throat and keeps sliding all the way down my esophagus, into my stomach, and I can feel the tip of your tongue like a living animal in my stomach, tasting the last food I ate, the spaghetti, the bread, the house salad—and while this is happening I keep thinking I should have eaten something really special and delicious for you.”
“I did not produce that vision,” I said. “I have no desire to taste the food in your stomach. I’ve already got the same food in mine.”
“But what if I ate something really special for you?”
“Lulu, I have no desire to taste food that’s already in your stomach.”
“How do you know if you haven’t ever tried it?”
“What did you have to eat today?” I said, “before the spaghetti, that is.”
“A bologna sandwich and some lime jello.”
“Ugh. Believe me, Lulu, that’s not my fantasy. I don’t even like bologna.”
“Well, what would you want me to have in my stomach for you?”
“Geez, Lu, I don’t know. Is this really what you’re into? Does this actually qualify as a form of sex?”
“It would if we were naked. And you were fucking me at the same time. What do you really really like to eat? Something that’s like a treat. Something special.”
“How about maraschino cherries?” Did I actually say that? Was I actively participating in this perversion?
“I’ll eat a whole jar of them,” she said. “Then, how about this for a follow-up … After you get your fill of the cherries, while I’m sucking your dick, you slide your tongue up my pussy all the way to my heart and lick my heart until we both come?”
“Are you serious?”
“It must be fucking awesome to have your heart licked, don’t you think? I mean, damn, I’ll bet hearts are sensitive as hell!”
“But Lulu, there’s no passageway from the vagina to the heart.”
“You’re God. You could make a passageway, couldn’t you?”
“Well … maybe …”
“That would be so fucking awesome! But how about this … While I’m deep-throating your cock, you slide your tongue up my asshole through my intestines, into my stomach—filled with warm brandied maraschino cherries—up my esophagus, into my mouth and throat, so you can taste your own dick in my mouth.”
“Where did the brandy come from?”
“I’ll marinate the cherries first. Or I could just take a couple slugs after I eat the cherries.”
I was starting to get turned on, but I didn’t want to tell her that. “Lulu,” I said, “I want you to know that you’re the most wonderful sidekick any god could have. You’re going to make being God really fun and enjoyable. If I have someone to share my miracles with—even if they’re hallucinations and we both get locked up eventually—it all will have been worth it.”
“Don’t talk that way, Don. We’re not going to get locked up. You really are doing miracles. We’re going to have a ball. Plus, just knowing that world hunger is a thing of the past will make every hardship worth it.”
All I could think of now was finding a bed and having my way with her. I haven’t had an erection like this since I was fifteen. I was about to suggest that we get a room somewhere when she placed her hand over mine and looked me dead in the eye.
“One other thing is really important to me, Don.”
“What can I do to make you happy? Your wish is my command.”
“We have to get married.”
“Married? Why would we get married?”
“It’s important to me.”
“But I have a wife right now.”
“I told you I was married when I first met you. At Dave’s. Remember? You said you saw my ring. You acted like it was no big deal.”
I held up my left hand to display my wedding band.
Lulu looked heartbroken.
“If it’s any consolation,” I said. “My wife’s going to be filing for divorce next month.”
“Really? Does she know you’re God?”
“No, she doesn’t know that. This whole God thing just came over me suddenly.”
“But if she finds out you’re God, she’ll never divorce you.”
“How’s she going to find out? I’m not going to tell her. At least not until after the divorce.”
“But she’s not even filing until next month.”
“So what? I can control time. I can make a month pass in an instant. And I’m sure I can pull some strings and get the final decree escalated. She doesn’t care anything about me anymore. We don’t even sleep in the same bed. She has a boyfriend. Armando.”
“Yes, and she’s with him right now and she’s spending the night at his place tonight—which she does regularly.”
“Armando?” she said, and after a moment’s thought added, “Is he some kind of Latin lover?”
“That’s just his name.”
“She’s still married to you and she’s sleeping with Armando? She’s a slut!”
“No, Bev’s not a slut. She’s a very nice person.”
“Don’t try and defend that whore! I hate that bitch! She doesn’t deserve you!”
“Well, geez, Lu …” I started, but my lips froze and I couldn’t continue this inane conversation. I was expecting to come down from this flashback any time now and I had no idea where I’d find myself. Was I still in my bathtub? Was I already locked up somewhere?
“As soon as your divorce is finalized, we’re tying the knot,” Lulu said. “You have to promise me. And please don’t make me sign a prenup. You’re not one of those wimpy guys who wants to stay friends with his wife after the divorce are you?”
“Lulu, this is crazy. What’s the big hurry? We just met yesterday. We have all eternity to get to know each other. And there’s no reason to get married.”
“It’s for my peace of mind. It’s how I’ll know you really love me and I’m not just another one of your … creations.”
“Whatever,” I said with resignation. “If it makes you happy …” Please, please, can I just wake up now and find out where the fuck I am?
“We’re going to save the maraschino cherries for our wedding night,” she said. “No sex till we’re married. We’ll go to Las Vegas. I’ve never been to Vegas, but I always thought if I ever get married it’ll be in Vegas. A wedding with Elvis. The real Elvis.”
“I can arrange that, Lu. Whatever you want. You’re my sidekick.”
That’s when Flash walked in.
He was the last person I wanted to see.
Go to Chapter Eleven