“Scotch with Peter”

CHARACTERS:

Keaton: Late 30’s. Perpetually exhausted and don’t for a second think he is an insomniac because there is a big difference between not being physically capable of falling asleep and constantly being near the end of a marathon but the finish line tape being moved further and further away so that the only way he feels warmth is to release his stress and feel his urine run down his leg.

Peter: Ageless. Silent. Good Listener. Could win the World Series of Poker if he wanted to. SILENT. HE WILL NOT SPEAK OR BE SEEN BUT HIS PRESENCE IS PALPABLE.

KEATON: Haven’t had a good scotch in years. My old man used to have a full bar installed in the bonus room after Mom died and he collected the life insurance. He put in a pool table and a flat screen. It was gonna be his “man-cave”. I don’t think the son-of-a-bitch ever used it for anything other than drinking at the bar. He pulled out some Johnnie Walker whenever the room was completed. I asked him why he didn’t hire a contractor. He told me I was a pussy. “Your mother raised you soft.” I might have yelled back and blamed him for mom running off and joining that sex cult. He didn’t speak her love language, which happened to be cunninglingus and was spoken by a more tender chap with a man-bun. I suppose he was too hard of a man to take other people’s wants and needs into consideration. Too tough to put down his guard and relinquish his pride. Maybe that’s why, when he pushed me, I told him he deserved to be left alone. Mom was better off. After some pushing and shoving,  I didn’t get any more invites for scotch. Gotta say invites to anything came scarce after… ya know…

(KEATON TAKES A SIP OF THE SCOTCH)

… shit went crazy after that video surfaced. The whole world flipped out. I mean, think about the headline: “JESUS IS BACK!”. Fucking media treated it like MJ came out of retirement. I still can’t believe some influencers caught Jesus on Instagram Live. Just floating over the Garden… the Garden, Jesus even I make it sound like a fucking NBA game. 

Here comes Christ down the lane! He slams it home and casts Lucifer back to HELL! 

Sorry, maybe this scotch is hitting me already. It’s just that, once the world saw that video nobody knew what to believe. When he disappeared even more people freaked out. The Baptists lost their shit when privilege didn’t apply to them. Religion as a whole broke down. People could only believe in themselves. Let me tell you, humans only being able to rely on humans for peace of mind is a recipe for disaster. No one knew what to do.

Well, that-uh-- how can I describe this? That moment of questioning and self-doubt that so many people were struggling through presented an opportunity. I was never a religious guy but I knew the basics. Growing up in the South you kind of have it shoved down your throat. First question someone asks when they meet ya’ is: “Where do you go to Church?”. Fucking annoying. Especially for someone agnostic. How could anyone be willing to believe in something like God or Allah or Buddha or fucking Cthulhu?! I mean, how can you expect that out of us? People expected that they would be rewarded for living shitty, judgmental lives for 167 hours out of a 168 hour week? Is it rational to put on a fucking button down and some khakis for a church service of hand waiving, off key singing, chewing on some styrofoam bread, washing it down with grape juice and flirting with Jolene Newberry at the pot-luck lunch and feel like you deserve an eternity of ecstasy? Sounds laughable. Sounds like a person who might be gullible.

That’s where I came in. My house was in a neighborhood with a golf-course and since the apocalypse was nigh, no one was yelling “FORE!”. I set up a little business where I would march out about 20-30 people a day to the pond off of the 2nd hole. I would dunk em’ and proclaim their sins had been washed away. 

What’s that look you’re giving me? That’s judgy. You don’t know the whole story yet…

Yes, I started out taking their money but it didn’t last. Maybe only a week went by before I had no use for their money. I remember seeing one dude’s face. This goofy looking mother fucker. He had a fake pair of teeth, some dentures. Said he had periodontitis and that his dentist stopped returning his phone calls. He was so sad before I dipped his head back in the water. When I pulled him up, he smiled at me with that toothless grin of pure relief and naivety. He said God would love him now. God would think he was beautiful. All from being washed clean in an algae covered pond on a golf course where he could have just as easily gone bobbin for golf balls instead of being saved. 

That’s where it fucked me up. Was he being saved? I wasn’t ordained. I wasn’t trained in the art of saving people, but do you really need to be? Could anyone save me?

I couldn’t sleep that night. It was about 3:00 in the morning when I marched myself over to that pond. I might be crazy, but it sounded like the frogs and crickets were singing the Goddamn gospel. 

(KEATON BEGINS TO SING)

As I went down in the river to pray

Studying about that good ol’ way

And who shall wear that starry crown

Good Lord, show me the way

O sinners, let’s go down

Let’s go down, come on down

O sinners, let’s go down

Down in the river to pray

As I went down in the river to pray

Studying about that good ol’ way

And who shall wear the robe and crown

Good Lord, show me the way

(THE SONG COMES TO AN END. KEATON SMILES)

I looked up at the stars which seemed like they weren’t too far away anymore. I thought about my dad and if he would offer me a drink if I told him I was saving people. 

That’s when I went under the water. I stared up at that sky until it went dark.The last thing I remember was the taste of a good scotch.

(KEATON TAKES THE FINAL SIP FROM HIS HIGHBALL AND SETS IT DOWN)