Pub of the GodsThe Pub of the Gods

by John C. Cyr

Osiris poured out the rest of the bottle of whiskey and handed it to Siva. The
god of destruction took the glass in small shaking hands and put it to his lips
and drank. The bar was full tonight, as it was every night these days...full of
old gods and goddesses, who through neglect washed up here, at the popular
watering hole for has-been divinities, "The Firmament".
The proprietor of the place, Osiris, looked over the crowd.
"Well at least I won't have any trouble tonight," he said, staring at the sullen
crowd in dismay. Apollo, the once-great Greek god of the sun sat at a table in
the darkest corner of the pub, while Freya the Norse fertility goddess sat on
his lap twirling a straw around a cocktail glass, eyeing him with undisguised
lust. At the pool table, Ahura Mazda, one of the oldest of the gods stood
watching with anxiety as his opponent, Krishna, sank the nine ball in the corner
pocket.
Dionysius sat in the back rolling a joint, while Thor and Isis looked on with
glazed over eyes. They kept it out of the site of Osiris, as it was illegal for
some unknown reason in the Firmament. The door to the Men's room swung open as
the Buddha strode out with a smile of relief on his face and a trail of toilet
paper stuck to his foot. Satan, who was sitting at the bar watching the
Republican Convention with fervor, stopped to laugh at the pudgy little god, who
walked around the rest of the night trailing toilet tissue from an old dusty
sandal.
Yes, the crowd that had gathered at the Firmament tonight were a sad sort,
looking for cheap one-night stands with each other and some cheap wine to wash
away the memories that made them so miserable.
The Dagda, an old Celtic god, came out of the kitchen with his great cauldron
and announced, "The chili is done so get it while it's hot!" Not many bothered
to move from their chairs, except Buddha of course, whose simple, content little
smile annoyed everyone, including the cook.
The night grew old, and just before Osiris was going to ring the bell for last
call, the door creaked open, and in limped a skinny man with long hair, a crown
of... looked like thorns, and a robe, torn and dirty.
Osiris looked at the man and yelled, "Hey, we don't need no rejects from the
60's in here! Go down a few clouds till you reach the Cafe Eros... that's where
all you free-lovin' hippies belong." Well, the more he looked at the young god,
the more he began to recognize him. His eyes grew large as full recognition came
to him.
"Jesus Christ! What happened to you?" Everyone turned their attention to the
newcomer and listened intently.
"My time is nearly over on the earth," Jesus said. "But I don't come here as a
god without followers, I come as a man who has lost his people." Zeus looked
over at Osiris, but he just returned the same look of confusion. "My friends,
the time of religion is coming to an end. I believe we have seen the last of the
gods to pass through this door. My people on earth have abandoned me, as they
have abandoned each other. They give their lives and souls over to greed and
power, and war. Money is the focus of their idolatry now, and hatred is their
scripture."
Mohammed, who had since stopped waiting tables, shook his dead with grief. Jesus
walked up to the bar and sat down on a stool. He looked at Osiris with

melancholy in his eyes and said,

"I'll have a glass of my blood... make it a double."
From the back of the room, Cerridwen, a Welsh goddess whose followers were still
slowly growing, walked up beside him and asked quietly, almost in a whisper,
"And what of my followers Jesus. Have they too turned aside from the path I set?
Are they the same as those you spoke of?"
Jesus looked up at her and smiled. "Gracious lady, your followers have always
been lovers of the earth... that aspect alone will keep your name fresh upon
their lips." Cerridwen smiled at him slowly, and putting an arm around him,
hugged him gently. Then, she went to the back of the bar again and sat alone
contemplating her future.
Osiris was distressed at the news Jesus had brought with him. In all the
centuries that he had been tending bar, he had never seen Jesus, except as a
glowing, powerful, awe-inspiring leader, who all the others had looked up to
after their followers were lost. Now here he was, an old man in all but body,
but that too was broken, as it was the day he died, all those years ago.

Forty years later, almost to the day, Osiris was in the middle of a debate with
Siva, who stubbornly protested that the construction worker was the most
important member of the Village People, when the door to the bar opened, and in
walked Satan, smiling to himself as he pulled up a stool at the bar. The two
bickering gods stopped their argument and looked at him with curiosity. No one
smiles in the firmament (except Buddha) and this made them both uneasy.
"What are you so happy about Satan? Did the republicans win the white house
again?"
Satan looked at them smiling broader now, stopping to pop a peanut into his
mouth. "Not so, my charming friends. But I have seen something that interests me
greatly! I have just come from earth where a new revival has begun. The Catholic
Church has fallen... but from it the fanatics of Christianity have found new
churches... new houses of worship... and new messages from their god." He paused
for dramatic affect, and once he knew he had the two gods waiting upon his every
word, he proceeded. "Jihad... they are killing each other in the name of all
that is holy! All because they believe Jesus wants them too. For two thousand
years I have been at odds with that young man, and now his people are mine!
While they pray to him... their souls are coming to me!" He paused suddenly and
snickered. He looked around at the twenty or so gods and goddesses in the bar
and yelled, "drinks are on me!"
Osiris shook his head in disgust and Siva just turned back to his warm beer and
took a sip. An hour later (or maybe it was a few years later... hard to tell
really) Jesus walked in.
He looked much the same as he did when he first waked in forty years earlier,
except that this time there was a smile on his face. Satan was nervous by this,
and leaving the unusually flirtatious Aphrodite in the corner, walked over to
him.
"Jesus," he said, "what's the good word?" He smiled, well, devilishly. "Must be
really embarrassing having your followers killing each other off... all in your
good name." "Ah, Satan... my people have been doing that since the day I died.
Its nothing new to me. But I decided that though my part was over in their
affairs two thousand years ago... I decided to make one of their myths about me
come true. I'm going back."
Satan's jaw dropped nearly to the ground. "You're kidding. You wouldn't go down

there after all this time.

Hell, you already died once and lived twice. You're not playing very fair you
know."
"Satan, my naive little friend, I'm not going down there. In section fourteen,
subsection thirty two of the Universal Deity Isolation Treaty of 1694, I'm not
allowed to reveal myself again. But, the soul of Johnnie Cochran was somehow
misdirected in purgatory and now he is my attorney. He found a loophole that
says nothing about doing a phone interview. Through this interview, probably
with Geraldo, my followers will stop their bloodshed and return to the days of
peace and love and harmony. Eden will return to earth as it did in San Francisco
in the sixties--but now it will sweep through the entire earth, and once more
the godless ones on earth will have hope for the future."
Satan thought about the sudden turn of events, realized that war was still
possible in Jesus' new Eden and relaxed. He sighed and thought about the
possibilities. Well, he thought, I could just start a new crusade or maybe an
inquisition. Smiling he walked out of the bar, whistling.
Jesus walked up to the bar, sat down and looked at the cup of blood Osiris
placed in front of him. Jesus looked up at Osiris and said, "I think I'll have a
Zima instead."
Osiris looked at him furiously and called over to Atlas--the bouncer--and had
Jesus thrown out. Osiris took the cup of blood, poured it down the sink, and
looked up at Jesus through the window. He shook his head again, flabbergasted.
"Damn hippies trying to scare away the customers." He picked up a broom and
wiped up the peanut shells off the floor, thinking to himself about the good old
days before peace-crazy gods and pudgy little deities trailed toilet paper all
over his floor.
Copyright 1996, John C. Cyr