Jesus is a Tightwad

Even the dive bars in Heaven get old sometimes.

Whooom Whoooom Whoooooom Whoooom oontz, whooom whoooom whoooom ooontz.

It was the tribal beat that had rattled in his ear drums for the past few hours. Never mind that the drums had been replaced by beat-tracks, the singers by auto-tune and the background will never be the crackle of village fires and crickets again. He adapted. He could get used to it, really. The smells were the most difficult: sickly sweet substances better left to his imagination exhaled through teeth or snouts. Great unidentifiable cat-curls of smoke that screened the flashing strobe lights, reminding him of fog rolling in from the ocean caught in lighthouse beams. He preferred the clear air right by water, actually, and he used to mention this all the time. Until the eye rolling and hand waving started.

Pretty much the same thing every night now anyway. He didn't know why he bothered analyzing the lights, the disco balls, the black-painted walls draped with red gauze that were supposed to hide the filth on the walls and bring a sense of 'romance' and whatever the hell else Pri used to babble on about.

The music had changed, the drugs and drinks had changed--but he hadn't. That crushing realization weighed rather heavily.

"S'up Sky man," came a familiar voice. Hunched over the bar on a stool, he half-turned, fighting the urge to look disinterested at Aphrodite grinning like a foxhound in a chicken coop at him. He tried to focus raincloud eyes he knew were already glassy after his tenth Blue Sky, on one of the spinning exquisite forms of her.

"Not now, 'Dite," he mumbled miserably. If it wasn't Aphrodite it was Thor roaring at him for being a little puny man, or Bacchus drunkenly questioning his sexual preferences before he flashed himself and got kicked out for being too sloshed.

"Come on sweetie, it's been...what? Seven centuries. Ask her out. Come on. It's practically a new world and a new set of rules. Do something different!" She elbowed him gently in the ribs and Varuna huddled in on himself a little more. Anywhere Aphrodite went the eyes of the entire club went with her. She was, after all, Aphrodite. Who wouldn't want to look at her?

Something about what she said shoved hooks into his brain though. It had been seven centuries, hadn't it? Things had changed. Things had changed so much, and he hadn't. Maybe he shouldn't have had five Blue Sky's more than his usual either--the drink was probably responsible for the rush of wild confidence he'd been lacking for the last part of seven hundred years. Maybe it was the lights. Probably the alcohol. Or--

"You know what?" He slurred, pitching forward on wobbly legs from the stool. He didn't answer his own question however as he wove unsteadily forward toward Belisama. He didn't even hear Aphrodite's half-tanked AWWWWRIIIGHT SKY MAN! behind him as he went, intent finally of ending his years of pining.
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"Aw, come on man," Aphrodite said for--well, he didn't know. He'd lost track and frankly couldn't give a s**t anymore. "Cheer up! It can't be all that bad!"

By now the club was in full swing. That part of the evening when the patrons were well and truly far enough into their cups that the place turned into a magical room filled with happiness and promise. Everyone was beautiful and those that wouldn't bother giving the other the time of day let alone spit on to put out a fire were arm in arm, singing along with an over played, horrific Christina Agoola..Katy perr--(hells, they all sounded the same to him now) some-woman's-horrible-pop-song.

"Th'f**k you know?" he said, tried to man up from the rain gathering in his eyes and reached for another drink 'Dite had put on her tab for him.
"I know--"
"Yeah, you...Y'know what...Y'know what she said to me? To me?"

'Dite shook her head and grabbed herself another beer, women and men flitting to and from her side like butterflies as she touched, kissed, stroked or smiled at them all.

"She said she'd rather wait for Jesus," yelled over the annoying beat. 'Dite pulled a face and Varuna grimaced. Exactly, he thought. Everyone knew Jesus was a tight-wad who never bothered to show up anymore. Something about going straight-edge or whatever.

F**k it, he thought, downed the Blue Sky in one hand and reached for another. Tomorrow night, everything would be the same. He wouldn't fight it anymore.

Author's Note

Suggestions, commentary, instruction all welcome. Thank you so much for reading <3