Stupid, Not Spiritual

The Epic Short Story Volume 5.

Prologue

Assholes are the universal constant, and Heaven has many. Just the other day, Jerry Garcia snuck in my house and pissed in my milk jug while I stood at the gloryhole. When I arrived home and poured a glass of milk, I gagged on that fat fuck. Payback came swift and nasty when I crapped in his guitar and watched him choke, curse, and hurl the guitar as the smell struck him while playing live on his EarthTube channel. Revenge felt good until Jesus knocked on my door after Garcia ratted. If you piss in a man’s milk, you should expect him to shit in your guitar, but Jesus disagreed and forced me to get some help.

Chapter 1. Assholes Anonymous

“I think you know why I am here.” Jesus stood at the front door.

I motioned for him to enter. “Hey, that fat, fucking bastard started it!”

Jesus stepped into the living room and sat on the sofa. “It’s not just the incident with Jerry Garcia. Since you arrived in Heaven, you have shown nothing but contempt for the rules. You broke into my Holy Father’s home twice, took an unauthorized trip to another world, then you and Stephen Hawking stole and destroyed my car during another unauthorized trip to Tia Ling World. You also told incredible lies about having sex with the Holy Mother. Do you really think these are Heavenly behaviors?”

I raised my hands. “Hold on a minute. I only broke into His house once. Stephen and I were on a mission from God the second time. Look, man, I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but your mom is a very dirty girl.”

Jesus smirked. “You don’t honestly expect me to believe my Holy Father sent you on a mission to destroy my car? You also can’t possibly expect me to believe the Immaculate Mother would have sex with you?”

I slumped into an easy chair. “Go ahead, believe whatever the hell you want. What do you want from me?”

“I think you need to attend a meeting for people with your condition. Lots of people come to Heaven and struggle to adjust to heavenly life. Here is a card with a meeting address and time.”

The card showed a Rainbow with the words “Over the Rainbow AA Group” printed beneath, which made me frown. “What is this place? A gay bar? Look, if you just wanted me to fuc-”

Jesus interrupted, “No. It’s a meeting place for Assholes Anonymous. I tried to be nice and not call you out, but you need to talk to someone. You’re a serious asshole, and you need some help.”

“Aw, man, what the hell? I don’t need therapy. I don’t want to go to some stupid meeting. Look, I appreciate your concern, but I am not going there.”

“I am not asking you; I am telling you to go to the meeting. Your behavior and attitude are appalling, and something needs to change. Let me give you the lay of the land. As you know, many worlds exist in the cosmos, and if you notice, there are no serial killers or mass murderers in Heaven. Although it is against God’s will to hurt or kill anyone, the Almighty sees fit to separate these individuals from us. With that said, sometimes people come to Heaven, and they don't quite fit. When this occurs, I suggest to Dad relocating these people to a world more fitting to their personalities and behavior.

“Imagine a world of assholes, where every day you must check your guitar to see if someone shit in it. Imagine a place where you are constantly cock-blocked by people who think interrupting you during sex is humorous. A place where people make loud noise every night, steal deliveries off your doorstep, cut you off in traffic, drive over your lawn, bitch about you running over their lawn, sit beside you on an empty bus, and cut in front of you in lines. Must I continue to explain what living in a world filled with assholes would be like?"

I sighed, “No, dammit, I’ll go.”

The next night I attended the Over The Rainbow meeting, arriving a little early to find people setting up chairs. Light conversation over coffee led to an introduction. “Hey, how are you doing? My name is Bob.” A burly, middle-aged man extended a hand.

I shook his hand. “Hi, I’m okay. My name is Vicente.”

“Is this your first time?”

“Yes.”

“No problem, Vicente, I chair the meeting. Let me get you some literature.” He sifted the literature on the table then handed me a book and leaflets. “This is what we call the Big Book, and it contains everything you need for recovery.”

“So, what do I do? Just read this stuff?” I thumbed the book.

Bob laughed, “Oh no, you need to attend meetings like this one. Oh damn, it’s time to start the meeting. Stick around, and we’ll talk more afterward.”

Bob stood behind the podium before the half-circle of meeting goers in chairs. “Hi, my name is Bob, and I’m an asshole.”

The group chanted, “Welcome, Bob.”

Bob led the group recital of the Serenity Prayer, and when finished, he made announcements for the many asshole activities like dances, picnics, and asshole-free parties. After the prayer and announcements, Bob said, “I would like to start tonight’s meeting by allowing new people to share their experience.”

A guy stood. “My name’s Dave, and I’m an asshole.”

The group chanted, “Welcome, Dave.”

Dave dropped his head. “Thanks. So, I was at my girlfriend’s house when my wife showed up. You know how that shit goes. All of a sudden, I was jammed up with both bitches an’ trying to explain how a man’s got urges. I said, ‘Look, we can beef about this shit all day, or we can take advantage of this opportunity for the three of us to make friends, if you get my drift.’ That’s how I ended up here today. I don’t know what to do cuz this is just how I am.”

Thoughts flashed of life before Heaven with my wife catching me at the gloryhole in the barn bringing a realization that perhaps I might be an asshole. People’s stares interrupted thought, and I stood. “My name is Vicente, and I am an asshole.”

“Welcome, Vicente.” They chanted.

“Thanks. I was told to come here because I shit in Jerry Garcia’s guitar, fucked the Virgin Mother, broke into God’s house twice, went off-world twice without authorization, and blew up Jesus’ car while trying to fuck Tia Ling and get some porn. Oh, and I killed millions of people while haunting earth because mortals couldn’t understand my request for them to perform bungholery.”

Everyone nodded. “Thanks for sharing, Vicente.”

I sat down and listened to the rest of the meeting, which felt good, like I belonged somewhere.

After the meeting, Bob approached me. “So, Vicente, how did you like your first meeting.”

I smiled. “Finally, a bunch of motherfuckers who understand and relate with me.”

Bob laughed, “You’re not alone. You see, Vicente, we understand because we all suffer the same sickness. It’s not your fault because assholism is a disease and a form of insanity. It’s a physical, mental, and spiritual illness. Right now, your disease controls your life and keeps getting you into trouble. You are powerless over assholism, but don’t worry, there is a solution.”

“What is it? I don’t want to be sick.” My eyes welled with tears.

Bob placed his hand on my shoulder. “Believe it or not, you just took the first step to recovery. Admitting your powerlessness over Assholism and your life’s unmanageability started you on the spiritual journey to recovery.”

Chapter 2. Came to Believe in Tits!

I attended meetings every day with Bob and other assholes who were very supportive, telling me things like “keep coming back,” or “let go and let god,” and “don’t give up before the miracle happens” — damn if they weren’t right. Sitting in meeting after meeting listening to assholes sharing their experiences, strengths, and hopes brought a sense of belonging and understanding. Soon I shared more about my assholism, and realization deepened to the depths of my assholery, spurring my desire to recover more, and one night, I approached Bob after a meeting. “Bob, would you be my sponsor?”

He hugged me. “I would be honored.”

From that day forward, we worked the steps of AA, and having already admitted powerlessness over assholism and my life unmanageable, we started the second step. “Do you believe in God?”

I laughed, “Of course; He lives right down the street.”

Bob laughed, “Yes, but that God hasn’t cured your Assholism. Have you ever asked why? Have you ever considered your perception of God might be wrong? Do you believe God can cure you of your disease? Do you believe there is something more powerful than you that can restore you to sanity? If your God can’t or won’t cure you, then maybe it’s time for a new God.”

I scratched my head. “Well, I believe you and AA can help me, so I believe at least two things are more powerful than me.”

Bob nodded. “Vicente, this is a good start. You see, steps two and three involve believing in a power greater than yourself and then turning your will and life over to that God of your understanding. Let me tell you about my God.

“When I came to AA, I was like you, a belligerent ass treating everyone like crap. Soon, I admitted I was an asshole, and just like you, I came to meetings, read the Big Book, and began working the steps but couldn’t believe in god. I stayed asshole free for a time, but slowly the bad thinking and behaviors started eking back into life, and soon I stood at the edge, ready to relapse into full-blown assholism. At that moment, I realized I needed a power greater than me to release me from the asshole bondage. I needed a god who made me feel safe and could be called upon to end the cravings to be an ass. Dropping to my knees, I prayed to the most pleasant thing I knew: a donkey dick. And do you know what happened?”

“No.” I stared, eyes wide with anticipation.

 “The big, floppy, peaceful donkey dick answered my prayers, instilled me with serenity, and I turned my will and my life over to the care of the god of my understanding, the Donkey Dick. From that day, ten years ago, I began recovering and remained asshole free.”

“Wow. That is amazing.” I nodded and smiled.

As though the machine of recovery and spirituality worked to make me better, that evening’s return home revealed Jerry Garcia, pissing on my lawn. About to scream, I stopped. “No, I have to resist being an asshole.” Fighting the rage that churned thoughts of placing a burning bag of shit in Garcia’s mailbox, I entered the house and collapsed to knees in the powerful asshole cravings, clasping hands together. “Help! I need a power greater than me.” Looking up the poster of Tia Ling on the wall became different, and despite having seen the poster many times, I now realized her breasts were the salvation needed. I cried, “I turn my will and life over to the care of Tia’s tits.” Peace washed over me as I prayed to those tits.

Seven months passed filled with endless AA meetings and sharing tales of our asshole days, even chairing a meeting of my own. One night Bob approached me after a meeting as I packed literature into a box. “Vicente, I think it’s time.”

I looked up. “I know. I’ve been putting off making my amends.”

“You don’t want to relapse,” Bob warned.

Steady working through the steps, I halted at the ninth step, not wanting to feel the pain of making amends to the people I harmed, but I knew I needed to apologize and fix my wrongdoings or suffer a relapse. After many discussions with Bob, I started my amends with Stephen, who I found at the gloryhole. As I waited for him to finish, he turned and looked over his shoulder in surprise. “Oh hey, man. I didn’t see you there.”

“I know; I was trying to give you some privacy.”

“Ha! Since when?” Stephen laughed.

“That’s why I wanted to talk to you. Stephen, I’m sorry for interrupting your gloryholing; intruding on your privacy was wrong. I am also sorry I got you in trouble with God when we took Jesus’ car to Tia World, and if there is anything I can do to make it up to you, let me know.

Stephen squinted at me. “Are you okay? Did something happen?”

I enthusiastically jabbered about recovery, the assholes I met, how AA freed me of assholism, and about praying to Tia’s Tits. I explained how working the program and making amends would keep me from an asshole relapse.

Stephen shook his head in concern. “Listen up; you need to stop listening to those people before they get you in trouble. You don’t have a disease; you’re just an asshole. Calling assholism a disease is like saying you have a drinking disease. Can you imagine a disease that makes you drink? What kind of disease makes you go to the store and buy a six-pack? As stupid as that sounds, what kind of fucking disease makes you shit in Jerry Garcia’s guitar? Besides, making up higher powers or gods might not be a great idea with the real God living down the street. These freaks sound like a cult.”

I gritted my teeth. “You know, Stephen, I just wanted to make amends for my behavior. I don’t need you being all negative about my program. It’s not religious; it's spiritual. The program works because I work it. I've been asshole-free for almost seven months.”

Stephen held his hand up. “Hey, it’s cool, Vicente. You don’t need to apologize to me. Hell, it was my idea to find a way to get porn.”

I walked away, grinding with frustration. “How dare you attack AA! I owe my life to AA. If it weren’t for AA, I would probably be living on some terrible world.” I headed for the palace because I needed to make amends to God more than anyone.

Chapter 3. Forgive Me, For I Am Stupid

Open from ten to five, the palace offered advice from God, Saints, or Apostles but having never used this service, the length of the lines surprised me. Arriving an hour before closing, I was the last to see God. While waiting in line, I figured God must get sick of people asking for things all day, and I decided to just get right to the point and beg forgiveness. Perhaps he might even start liking me.

Ushered into the throne room, I stood before the Almighty who boomed, “Speak.”

I dropped to knees and cried, “Lord, I have come to make amends. I am sorry I lived a sinful life seeking sexual pleasure. I am sorry I killed all those people on earth. Please forgive me for breaking into your house. What can I do to make amends?”

God shot me a sly look. “What brought about this change of heart?”

I told God about AA and all the wise things they taught and how I learned about my spiritual, mental, and physical illness. “God, my Assholism made me a wrecking ball in people’s lives, but AA showed me how to recover by finding a higher power and turning my will and life over to the god of my understanding and i-

 “What’s this about a higher power and a god of your understanding?” God leaned forward.

Stephen’s warning flashed to mind. “Well, uh, the recovering assholes in AA teach that we need to have a higher power, and we can make that power our god. God can be anything we want, but you know I chose you, God.” I pointed to God and shook my head. “I would never choose another God.”

God stared.

I stared back. “My sponsor prays to a donkey dick.”

Suddenly, Bob and all the AA people stood in the throne room. There were a lot of them, many I didn’t know. They looked shocked as God’s voice filled the throne room, “I have a mission for all of you. I am sending you to a place called Asshole World where you will do my bidding.”

Bob and all the assholes disappeared, and God looked down at me and waved his hand, laughing, “You are forgiven.”

In my house, I stood before Tia Ling’s poster, staring directly at her tits.

Epilogue

God’s infinite wisdom teaches us if you believe yourself an asshole, then you might not want to take advice from other assholes, and if you pray to a dick long enough, you might just become one, but most importantly, if you shit in someone’s guitar, be sure Jesus won’t know.

The End