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 Hey guys,

First time poster, love of odd humor. I finished a short story you can view here. Hope you enjoy the read.

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Current Location: Louisville, KY
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A ripple marred the placid ebony surface of the monitor’s screen. A weak dot, a tiny star, bobbed and dove as it struggled to ascend far from that flat line; that consuming horizon which served as death’s boundary. Each rise surrendered to a fall and the cycle played over and over.

Beside the monitor, across the gulf, he lay; an old man, the lines of countless adventures carved upon his face like a tablet. He was still upon the bed, showered in a yellow fluorescent glow. Eyes closed, breathing labored, it was as if life had receded deep into his heart leaving but a façade of being. His spotted, luminescent skin shone beneath the sickly light becoming transparent and revealing the fragile creature within.

Time slowed until the ticks between seconds went quiet. Each beep became an eternity, stretched into a dying wail. The sounds of the hall beyond his room turned to echoes which dissolved into silence. The light began to fade, the shadows encroaching upon the bed from the four corners. A cool stole into the old man’s flesh, numbness biting him to the bone as the quaking inside his chest began to steady. His deep breathing shallowed into light gasps.

The old man’s eyes fluttered open to accept the coming darkness. So many memories arose before his eyes only to be lost to that dark ceiling as if small pieces of his soul were flaking off and scattering to the cosmos above.

And as the shadows touched the bed, as the light fell to its nadir, a pale form stepped forward. He wore a cloak of midnight. His face was sharp. His eyes were black and empty. A bloodless slit served as his mouth. This was Death.

“I have come for you, James. Come to take you.” Death’s gnarled hand reached toward the old man. “You’re time is at an end.”

Without warning, the door was kicked open. Federal agents poured into the room.

“Grab him!”

“What-?” Death muttered before being tackled to the ground.

“Stop resisting!”

“Get off me,” Death demanded only to receive a shot to the kidneys.

“Cuff him.”

“The scrawny bastard won’t hold still.”

“I said stop resisting!”

One of the officers pulled a taser from his belt. “Taser taser taser deploy.” The prongs shot out embedding themselves in Death’s lifeless flesh. And then the lightning did flow. Death screamed as he went rigid. 50,000 volts of electricity coursed through his body.

“Kicking like a chicken.”

“That’s enough, Daniels. He’s done.”

The officer took his finger off the trigger. “Finish cuffing him.”

Death could only gasp, his body on fire, as the officers lifted him to his feet to face their superior.

The lead agent looked deep into those dark eyes of Death and smiled at what he saw. “Finally got you. Allow me to introduce myself. Agent Hart, Department of Homeland Security. You are under arrest for terrorist acts against America.”


Death sat before a steel table, boxed in by four slate walls. Across from him a large mirror glared back with his own cold stare. It was quiet save for the buzzing of the lights above, an angry hornet’s nest of sparking and popping. From time to time Death’s black eyes would wander over to the door set near one of the corners. No one came.

Once he was sure he was quite alone, Death gradually tilted his head skywards into the anemic light. “I could use some help-”

Without warning the door opened. Agents Hart and Meloni stepped into the room. “Salvation won’t be coming for you,” Hart stated as Meloni closed the door behind them.

Agent Hart held a large manila folder in his hands. He came to a stop near the edge of the large mirror. “Nice suit. Orange fits you far better than black.”

Hart cracked the folder, reading the contents inside. “Angel of Death, huh. Cute alias.” Hart continued reading.

“Why did you arrest me? I haven’t done anything wrong.”

Agent Hart looked up from the dossier. “Haven’t done anything wrong? You cause the deaths of millions of lives around the world every year. How many people would be alive today if not for your millennia old campaign of death? You’re gonna pay. Oh yes sir, you are gonna pay.”

“You have no right-“

“We have all the right in the world. Suicides. Homicides.” Agent Hart tossed various crime scene photos on the table before Death; grisly, glossy pictures so slick the blood seemed to bleed through.

Death flinched, quickly turning away.

Meloni stole a glance at Hart who met his eyes, nodded, and returned his attention to Death as Meloni made his way behind the prisoner.

“You’ve been busy. All those deaths tied to you.”

Death crossed his arms. “I want a lawyer.”

“I don’t think you’ve been paying attention. Ever since 9-11 the rules have changed. We can hold you as long as we want. Forget your damn lawyer.” Hart slammed the folder down hard on the table causing Death to jump. “You’re gonna talk.”

Death quickly looked from Hart to Meloni and back.

“Oh yeah,” Hart continued, now leaning across the table. “The Patriot Act. America is changing the system up. We got the power to do whatever it takes to keep Americans safe. No one is coming to save you. We can hold you for eternity if we want. Protect the world from your touch.

“You see, after the towers fell we began gunning for the terrorists. Afghanistan. Iraq. Pakistan. Palestine. We looked for al Qaeda and her allies. That led us to Osama. Well guess what, bright boy. It seems there is more behind this then simply a few illiterate ragheads.”

Death swallowed hard. “What do you mean?”

“Every one of these extremists tells us the same thing. They’re doing this for God. We’ve been waiting a long time to bring the Almighty Kingpin down. Now we have cause.”

“You have cause?” Death shot out of his chair. “I-“

Meloni gripped Death’s shoulder and forced him back down into his seat, the chair screeching a few inches.

“No right? No right!” Agent Hart banged his fist down on the table before turning away from Death to look up to the ceiling. “Who does God think he is? Hmmmm? Bastard has been terrorizing the world for centuries. We could never prove it. No, he is kind and benevolent. A loving figure. Pinnacle of the community. Well that’s all shit and you know it!”

Agent Hart brought his hard gaze crashing down on Death. “You’re gonna help us out. You’re an integral part of God’s organization. We want the network. Help us and we may ease your sentence. Tell me what you know about the Judeo-Christian Crime Family.”

“You’re crazy.”

“Who do you work for?”

Death remained defiant. “I don’t have to answer your questions.”

Meloni gripped Death’s head and hammered it into the table. Death was knocked senseless, stars bursting before his eyes. Then he felt the pressure of Meloni trying to crush his head into the steel.

Agent Hart brought his face nose to nose with Death’s. “Unless you want to bleed you’ll answer my questions.”

“Ok,” Death sputtered. Meloni increased the pressure on his head. “OK!”

Agent Hart snapped his fingers as he backed up. Meloni let Death go.

“Now first things first. We need evidence. Witnesses. So where do you take the souls?”

Death ran his fingers across his face, wincing as they found the swollen purple explosion emerging just above his right eye. “Here. There.”

Agent Hart narrowed his eyes. “Here. There. That’s cute. Hey Meloni-“

Meloni wrapped his arm around Death’s neck jerking him out of the chair. Death kicked in the chokehold, flailing wildly knocking over his chair in the process. His black eyes went wide, Agent Hart reflected at their center.

Hart just stood there watching, hands on hips. “You might think you’re special. Guess what, pal. You’re dead wrong. So cut the holier than thou BS. Now either you’re gonna start answering my questions or you’re gonna join the statistics.”

Meloni let go, Death quickly dropping to his knees coughing and wheezing. “Christ,” he gasped out.

Meloni grabbed the upended chair, slammed it back in place, grabbed Death by the shirt, and threw him down in the seat.

“Where do you take the souls?” Agent Hart asked again, setting his jaw.

Death couldn’t even look Hart in the face. “Heaven. Hell,” he told the floor.

“Heaven and Hell,” Hart echoed.

“Yeah. Nirvana sometimes too.”

“You’re working all sides, huh? Real loyalty you got there.”

“I’m freelance.” Death noticed a look pass between Hart and Meloni. “Hey, I gotta eat! I take them where I’m told. That’s all I do. Just get them out of the way. I don’t ask the whys.”

“My oh my, Meloni. We have a regular tree of wisdom here. Exactly how many sides are you working? The Hindus? The Baha’i? I bet you’re in real good with the Mormon clan. Who are your contacts?”

Death continued to rub at his neck.

“You’re gonna tell me what you know.”

“I don’t know much,” Death stammered.

“That’s obvious from that mongoloid face of yours,” Hart shot back. “Who are your contacts?”

“Who do you think?” Death bit his lip, hesitating. “Only one guy makes those choices.”

Agent Hart cocked his head as he put his hands on his hips. “So God decides who lives and who dies?”

Death looked down at the table.

“Where is he?”

Death looked up at Hart. “You’ll never find him, Agent Hart. The only way you’ll find him is if he finds you.”

Agent Hart loomed over Death. “I want to know everything you know about God. Where’s he from? How’d he get started? What the hell is his agenda?”

Meloni leaned in close to Death’s ear and whispered, “Tell him what he wants to know or I am going to smear you across these walls.”

 “Alright alright. What is there to tell? His name is Jehovah. Don’t even bother calling him that anymore. He won’t answer to it. No one knows who his parents were. Some of us think he just arose out of thin air.

“He started small. Little gang out of Judea. Made his money off protection.

“You have to understand, back then there weren’t any real authorities. Law didn’t exist. You did what you had to to survive. Well the Jews got the worst of it. It seemed as if everyone was beating up on them.

“So God stepped in, offered his services, and went around busting up quite a few heads. Tithing and tribute proved profitable. Didn’t take long for him to build up his powerbase. People everywhere came to fear him with good reason. Heaven save you if you didn’t swear allegiance to him. The guy would wipe every single trace of you from the face of the Earth otherwise.

“The guy started buying up real estate, opening businesses, and even crowning kings. He made himself the center of Judea. People respected him.

“So God is doing real well, the Jews are flourishing, and then Baal and the Babylonians start muscling in, trying to squeeze the Jews a bit too hard. God tried to fight back at first, but Baal was way too strong to challenge. So God laid low. For a while anyway. He got to know the inner workings of Baal’s organization. God picked up quite a few tricks. Then Baal disappeared.”

“God whack him?” Agent Hart arched an eyebrow.

Death nodded. “He did it personally.

“With Baal out of the way, God set out to reclaim his former territory. It wasn’t easy. Not with what he had to work with.

“Those Jews. They were the cause of all his problems. Too shortsighted. Too greedy. Not very loyal. God was constantly whacking his lieutenants because of the mistakes they made. Saul. David. Solomon. Moses. The list is endless. Was it justified? I think so to some degree.

“It was around this time that God gained a new lieutenant. Name was Jesus. This guy thought big. Really big. Judea wasn’t enough. He wanted to expand. Become international. He had grand plans. Jesus thought Judea was holding them back. All the old traditions, blah blah. Jesus wanted to reinvent the organization. Make it less exclusive. Well, God couldn’t resist. The chance to have it all. I mean come on. Not to mention after Baal nearly crippled his enterprises, God came to distrust all outsiders. Everyone was a potential enemy. Might as well whack them before they could do the honor first. Remaining isolated was for suckers.

“So God and Jesus proceeded to hit quite a few of the neighboring organizations in their drive to expand and assimilate.

“The Mt. Olympus faction was first on the hit list. It didn’t matter that Zeus had held Greece for centuries or that he now had Rome under his control. Didn’t matter that the guy was a legend or that there had been an unspoken respect between Zeus and God. Nothing and no one was sacred. God had to have those territories. It was a massacre. Once they brought the Parthenon crashing down, they even bloodied a few pagan factions just to show people who was boss. Of course God kept up illusions for a while. Made people think nothing had changed.”

“Go on.”

“God got complacent. He began letting Jesus run the day to day things. The only thing off limits was Judea. God held a special place for the Jews in his heart. It’s where he began after all. It was a big mistake. Trusting all that power to Jesus.”

“Why is that?” Hart asked.

“Power…it has a way of changing people. Really bringing out their dark side. The weight of it must drag them into the abyss.”

Hart choked out a silent laugh. “Who knew Death could be poetic.” He leaned back against the wall. “What did power do to God?”

“It’s not really what it did to God but what it did to Jesus.” Death took a breath. “God got to worrying. He’s a paranoid guy. Always handing down the tribulations and suffering to show who is boss. But who is to blame him? He was making lots of enemies, becoming way too powerful to ignore.

“Then Jesus started running his mouth. Trying to position himself as the heir apparent. Gradually pushing God out of the picture. He began skimming a bit off the top. Forming his own crew. Threatening the order of things. So God arranged a hit with the Jews. Roman authorities were paid off to look the other way. Body disappeared. All was well.

“Well, not quite. See, Jesus survived the hit. He came gunning for the ol’ Almighty. The bastard ventured into Hell itself to raise a squad to bump off Jehovah. Bankrolled by Satan, Jesus was able to get quite a few officials in his pocket including an emperor. With legal protection and an army at his back, it turned bloody real fast. Jesus helped the legal authorities to persecute God’s crew in force. Ended up splitting the organization.

“Now God, feeling the heat and beginning to worry, decided to recruit a new guy to check Jesus’ growing authority. He finds this nobody, Muhammad I think is his name, and makes him a lieutenant. We all thought this Muhammad was nuts. Guy was wild. Brutal. A real psychopath. But that Muhammad, he proved himself in spades where it counted. Nearly wiped Jesus off the map. Nearly.

“God used Muhammad for more and more hatchet work. When Jehovah began to think Muhammad was growing a bit too strong he positioned some of his other lieutenants against him. It was insanity. Infighting developed throughout the organization. God simply distrusted everybody.

“Eventually the chaos led to full blown civil war. Unable to stop it, God took to hiding out of fear. Without him to hold everything together the family broke up. The only thing which connects them is their fealty to a missing God.

“The war has been going on too long. Some mortals had enough and formed the Reason Faction…It’s all a real headache. Those scientists. They’re the ones you should go after. Trying to bump us all off.

“With their authority crumbling, business suffering, and the losses nearly crippling the organization, the various families made peace thanks to an amnesty crafted by Jesus. The various families respected one another’s territories and tended to their own affairs. Some have even taken to working together to further their ends like in the old days. They’ve made some inroads. Got quite a few politicians in their pocket. Don’t even ask about what businesses they’re involved in now.”

“If things are so good, what started the latest round of bloodshed?”

“Muhammad. See, Jesus crafted an amnesty that involved a sort of confederation around himself as a figurehead. An arbiter I guess you could say. Muhammad wouldn’t have that. He wanted equal footing and when he couldn’t get that he refused to sign on and continued to fight. So Jesus and his faction struck back nearly crippling Muhammad’s operations. It’s taken him time, but Muhammad has come back for a rematch. Wants to take back what he believes is his and then some. He’s a wild gun. Moving in on Vishnu’s turf as well as Jesus’. The guy wants it all. Trust me. God wants nothing to do with what Muhammad’s trying to do. War ain’t good for business.”

“What’s your part in all this?”

Death put his palms to his chest. “I’m the clean up guy. I take care of the messes. I also make sure things get done.”

“I see.” Agent Hart came around the table and sat on the corner. “How would you like to turn State’s evidence?”


“Help us make a case against Muhammad and Jesus. Even God.”

“I don’t know if I can do that. I ain’t no rat.”

“We can protect you-“

“Protect me? Why would you want to protect me?”

“We’ve been after God for a long time. Make our case.”

“And what if Jehovah comes looking for me?”

“Don’t worry about that.” Agent Hart put a hand on Death’s shoulder. “Come on. Do the right thing.”


“And in news today, the federal government has issued warrants for the arrests of God, Jesus, and Muhammad on charges of crimes against humanity.

“Jesus, renowned self-help guru, businessman, record/film producer, and epic publisher, was arrested by federal authorities at a luncheon he was having with the President. Due to previous charges of police brutality, authorities are being sure to give Jesus the utmost respect and care while in custody. He is being held without bond pending trial. The President is rumored to be considering a full pardon.

“Muhammad is fighting extradition from Saudi Arabia claiming persecution by the American government.

“God’s whereabouts remain unknown.

“More as information arises.”

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Current Location: Louisville, KY
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Why do I speak to thee

When you are deaf to my words,

Nodding dumbly without reason,

My free thoughts lost in that black cavity

Neither saved nor preserved but lost to darkness

As you echo my speech

Revealing the hollowness beneath your empty shell?

Your embraces constrict me

Your refusal to challenge, your ready surrender

Leaving no obstacle to overcome, nothing to bar my path

That I do not cease and question

Do not stop and wonder

But only fall forward

In my intellectual charges

And become like a stumbling child

Never truly able to learn to walk

And become all too happy to drag myself along my belly

Through the dirt like a lowly serpent

Poisoned by your servitude

That I become venomous to those who fail to do likewise.

Your devoted mediocrity swallows me

Like the pale Moon does the Sun

Eclipsing day for night.

You are no golden angel, no muse, no goddess

But a mirror that reflects my luminance

Blinding me with my own reflection

That I might not see the true world

But only that which you reinforce,

A gilded cage of my own make,

Causing me to close my eyes

Pierced and fearing my own Reason

That I flee from it, smother it, cause myself to dull

And regress, devolve, revert

Into that primordial savage

Lost in the shadows

To thrash and scream

Because of you,

You undermining sycophant.

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Current Location: Louisville, KY
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As told in Anti Christ: A Satirical End of Days the world is in chaos – proving reality infuses fiction. Russia is eliminating democracy, returning to an authoritarian government. The US is fighting government corruption charges as a possible war between Pakistan and India formulates. Now China wants to rule Taiwan…the global issues never end.

On a civilian scale, Matthew Ford is an average college guy, suffering the usual issues. After waiting three hours, his internet date is a no show, the bookstore refuses to refund a book he just bought, and then his car gets a flat tire as it begins to snow. Arriving home, Matt’s horrendous day ends peacefully once he throws out the ghost, haunting him for the last time. Okay, so this act is not usual however, it garners the attention of Heaven now commercialized and a power hungry Hell, both warring against the other to gain Earth peoples’ majority support. As for his awareness of the previously mentioned world issues, Matt was busy watching professional wrestling; his priorities are quite clear.

Mr. Moses composes an engaging, humorous parody, drawing from timeless world events and American life. The U.S. President Lucas is a ditz, believing that Kashmir – in India - is a sweater company, and cannot understand why Pakistan wants that particular cloth. It’s not material they want, it’s all about the land. Russia’s President Romanov wants to return his country into greatness. He dissolves the Duma, their legislative body, assuming sole leadership. After President Lucas’ lengthy warning that the U.S. will defend democracy, Romanov, a taciturn man, replies with a barbed curse, “F--- America”. Now that is honest communication.

The true witticism shines as Matt begins an enlightened journey first to Heaven, followed by Hell, then to the mystic Buddhist temples, and then back again to Heaven. Instigating this trek are two cherubs who abduct Matt, claiming the “Boss” wants to meet. Once in Zion (Heaven), the cherubs loose Matt, who wanders into a place called “Gabriel’s”. God’s Archangels now congregate in a local tavern since Heaven and Hell signed a peace treaty two thousand years ago, outlawing wars. They drown their sorrows in unending chalices of holy water or engage in wrestling smack downs in the tavern’s backroom; releasing pent up hostilities. The crowning moment is when Matt finally meets Jesus demanding that he take back the ghost he threw out; Heaven is overcrowded since Christ took over management.

The slapstick continues with attacks on big business, worker’s unions, fad diets, immigration, military assistance in foreign countries, reincarnation…not even the Pope is exempt from this fast paced, captivating farce. Still, when Satan entices Matt into becoming the world’s elite guru of wisdom, the amusing dialog turns gloomy. They attend congressional sessions discussing stem cell research and lecture overweight people simply to stop eating; naming only a few topics that some readers may not find amusing, in any form.

Yet, _Anti Christ_ is a satire, _“a literary composition, in verse or prose, in which human folly and vice are held up to scorn, derision, or ridicule”_ (definition from Dictionary.com)…hmmm, Mr. Moses has done his job well. His characters are well formed, genuine, aptly supporting this cabaret of imaginative intrigue. Even the typo, right at the beginning, “CwHyAPTER 1” only adds to this wacky novel. And yes, I roared with laughter throughout this distinctive book.

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Current Location: Louisville, KY
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          They reached the outskirts of Zion a few hours later. Matthew was amazed at the size of it as they advanced, the city stretching endlessly across the horizon. It glistened in an amber radiance, an amazing collection of sparkling pillars. Zion was a garden of light, a series of flashes and glowing luminescence. It was as if the city ahead were constructed of the rays of the sun.

As the whole fell away into individual parts with every step, Matthew's awe ebbed. The buildings were not like Ancient Greece or Rome. It wasn't even on par with New York City. The glimmer itself was an illusion. Shining off what appeared to be diamond and silver, closer inspection proved the buildings were nothing more than mere glass and steel. Every building, row upon row, was a simple oval of glass and steel. No ornate styling. No individuality. How did they even know the difference between each one?

          "This...is Zion?" Matthew stopped to let the wave of disappointment pass over him. "Very original." His voice dripped with sarcasm.

          "Must you...be critical of everything?" Ezekiel gasped as he trailed a hundred feet behind, close to collapse from running for miles.

          "Where’s the grandeur? Where's the originality? I thought this place looked like Greece. Or Disneyland."

          "Are you in Greece? Are you even on Earth?" Mel asked.

          "No," Matthew replied.

          "So why would you think it should look like something from Earth?"

          Matthew shrugged his shoulders. "I'm just saying as the pinnacle of Existence it falls flat."

          Mel offered up a sad look. "You stress appearance far more than substance. Still, what do you expect? Our talent pool isn't very large or skilled."

          "Why? This is Heaven, where the best go. Couldn't you draft that Michelangelo guy for some double-duty up here?"

          "Most artists have a few problems." Mel rotated his right hand in a circle.

          "And your point?" Matthew asked.

          "Where do you think they go?"

          Matthew thought a bit. "They go down there?" He pointed down.

          "Yes," Mel replied. "Besides, most of their views are a little too liberal for up here."

          "I thought Hell was fire and brimstone?"

          "Hell is flash without substance."

          Matthew nodded while trying to comprehend. "So, it’s like Vegas only hotter." He looked around. "Well, so much for variety. Why does substance have to be so dull?"

          "You ask too many questions. I miss the ones that went on faith."

          "Well, I am seeing Zion, but I'm not believing it-"

          "Can we go now?"

          Matthew, disillusioned, acquiesced. "Sure."

          Ezekiel struggled on, his steps awkward, falling forward and grabbing Matthew's leg for support. His hair was dripping, his face lathered. He panted and slouched. "Can we...wait...three minutes?"

          "We don't have time to waste. Come on." Mel flew onwards into the city. Matthew followed him, Ezekiel nearly falling on his face with his support gone. He weaved back and forth before regaining a sort of balance, stepping with a drunken gait after them, his suit drenched with yellow stains.

The grass stopped at the outskirts of Zion, crushed beneath stone streets and a round wall of buildings that seemed to mark the city's periphery. They walked on roads of limestone, trees lining the path. Here and there, swaths of land were still virginal like the fields beyond, islands of nature in this city of Heaven.

Humans of all eras, dressed in all periods, wandered the streets. Oddly, they were all Caucasian. Matthew didn't think much of it; only that they seemed mindless, looking straight ahead as they marched on. They didn't acknowledge one another as they passed. Some rested under trees while others looked off to the horizon behind Matthew and his hosts as if they weren't even there. Matthew snuck up to one of the resting inhabitants, waving his hand back and forth in front of their face. Nothing. Matthew got up a little freaked.

Then he noticed it. Softly, a recording played throughout the streets: "Independent thought only confuses and blinds you from the truth. Faith is the way. Trust in faith. Faith is good." It seemed to loop, barely audible, but it was still there.

          "Why does everyone look so bored...and drugged?" Matthew asked as they walked past the souls of Zion. "And where are the shadows?" Matthew hadn't realized it until now, but no darkness existed here; not even shade beneath the trees.

          "You try living a few centuries. Eventually you do everything, hear everything. For us it isn't so bad, but you humans…ugh. You always need something new. If not for enforced serenity you people would be too troublesome-"

          "Enforced serenity?" Matthew asked.

          A bell tolled from some hidden location chiming the change of the hour. Suddenly everyone came to life charging for the buildings. Matthew had to dodge the rampage as Mel flew over it. Ezekiel screamed as he was butted to and fro by knees and feet.

          And then there was no one. The roads were vacant and quiet. “We’d best keep moving,” Mel told them. They navigated the deserted streets, the emptiness eerie. Matthew went to ask why everyone had bolted, but caught himself. Did he really want to know? Besides, something else was eating at him. "Do Asians go to Heaven?"

          "What?" Mel asked taken aback.

          "The Asians. You know, Japanese and Chinese. Are they allowed up here?"

          "Why would you ask that?" Mel questioned.

          "Well, I didn't see any samurai or geishas. Plus most of them are Buddhist…or Hindu…or some other weird religion. Matter of fact, I didn’t see any minorities around. Do you guys discriminate on who you allow to immigrate up here?"

          "The requirements are the same for everyone," Mel told him. “We show no favoritism.”

          "Do you have to be Christian to get in?"

          Mel looked back and forth to make sure no one was listening. "Christianity isn't the end all be all of Existence," he whispered behind his hand.


          "There are other ways." As Matthew was about to ask again Mel shook his finger. "No, don't ask." Mel looked around again as if they were being watched. "Best not to know."

          Matthew pursed his lips. They continued on through the city blocks. No matter how far they walked it seemed they traveled the same path over and over again. Matthew tried to break the insane sameness and inject some variety. "So where are they?"

          "Who?" Mel asked.

          "The Blacks. The Asians."

          "Not in this section of Heaven."

          "Heaven is segregated?"

          "Yes," Mel replied.

          "You guys aren't racist are you?" Matthew asked.

          "Why do you say that?" Mel barked before stopping.

          "Hey, I know how it is. You guys are blonde haired, blue eyed, keep the minorities out of your living space." Matthew licked his lips and whispered, "Hitler isn't God is he?"

          "That is quite enough!" Mel screamed. "Do not speak to me again."

          "I was just cur-"

          "Shhhhh!" Mel hissed.

          Ezekiel continued to stagger after them leaving puddles behind him as his blistered feet minced his steps. His hair was no longer curly but straight and hanging with droplets flowing down them like golden stalagmites. His cheeks were a bright red. His arms hung limply as his little legs tried to keep up. He had a black eye from the stampede as well as footprints on his suit.

          Matthew looked around as they strode through the Kingdom of Heaven. He found himself bored by this seeming perfection. It was so controlled, lacking random variety or artistic expression. It was minimalism in its purest form, all decoration stripped away for the most utilitarian architecture. All color had been pressed together and bled into a sterile white. It was…unnatural. Maybe life did end with death.

          Matthew stopped. Something different caught his eye. Color! There was actual color. Not white, not clear, not steel but actual color! Matthew wandered in a separate direction to see exactly what dared to defy conformity. Mel flew on oblivious to the fact that Matthew was no longer behind him. Ezekiel collapsed on the grassy knoll enjoying the sweet, sweet release of rest.

Matthew hurried back down the block and found the street the color had come from. As he turned down it he discovered the origin of said color. A giant sign floated between two buildings. On it, a man with cropped black hair and a beard smiled down on the street below. It read, "Obey the word." The sign itself was framed in white and gold, the words in a sky blue on a background of purple. Matthew found himself scrutinizing the face of the Messiah. It was so alien. Far from beautiful it seemed…common. His face was round with a bulbous nose. Where was the flowing fair hair? And those black eyes. Didn’t Jesus have blue eyes?  Matthew couldn't get over it. His short attention was snagged when he heard muffled laughter. It came from one of the apartments.

          He followed the sound to one of the buildings and peeked in through the transparent glass. Everyone inside was watching television. “So that’s where everyone went,” he said to himself. They seemed hypnotized by whatever program was playing. A woman and two men were leaning forward, perched on the edge of their seats. They smiled and giggled. The obsessiveness in their eyes was scary. Matthew knocked on the glass trying to see if they were real. Not a single eye turned his way. This place was strange indeed. Matthew walked a few feet to the side and stared in another window. Another group of people watched television just as transfixed. They seemed in some sort of rapture.


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          Matthew exited the building walking towards the parking lot. No one was in the quad as he passed through. In fact, the entire place seemed empty. When he reached the parking lot he discovered a multitude of open spots. Yeah, empty now, he thought to himself as he approached his car. Matthew slid his key into the door and wrestled with it, finally jerking it open. That was when he heard a voice behind him. "Matthew Ford." The voice wasn't asking.

          Matthew turned around and was confronted by two miniature figures. The two “men” were no taller than four foot dressed in white suits. Their skin was pale, their hair curly and golden. Their eyes were covered by silver tinted glasses. "Can I help you?"

          "We need you to come with us," one of the smartly dressed midgets said.

          "I don't think so," Matthew chuckled. "The yellow brick road isn't on my way."

          The other vertically challenged fellow grabbed Matthew's arm. "We're not asking. We're ordering."

          Matthew slapped his hand away. "Hey, watch it Cabbage Patch Mafia. Society might have treated you badly, but don't take it out on me."

          "You have business with our boss."

          "I didn't win any golden ticket so go back to Willy Wonka and give him my regards."

          The two midgets looked at each other. They both turned to Matthew, their faces starting to mottle. "Don't make us tell you again."

          "Then stop asking. I've had a bad day so piss off!" Matthew turned his back to them to get in his car. As he went to open the door the one midget got on all fours. His partner ran and jumped off the other's back onto Matthew’s wrapping his tiny arms around Matthew's throat. The impact drove Matthew headfirst into the door aggravating the bruise he got in class and slamming the door shut. The other midget grabbed Matthew by the leg. There Matthew stood, getting jumped by dwarves. The one on Matthew's back tried to choke him, baby fingers tickling his neck as little feet banged into his lower back.

          "Don't make this any harder on yourself," the midget on Matthew’s back gasped into his ear. Matthew threw him over his shoulder to the pavement. As his partner saw him fall he bit into Matthew's thigh. Matthew screamed and started kicking trying to throw the midget off. His friend was quick to his feet, running at Matthew with top speed to head-butt him right in the crotch. Matthew dropped due to damaged goods. The other midget released his leg and proceeded to grab Matthew by the hair. Matthew had just enough time to see that dastardly dwarf of nut-butting brutality preparing for a second run, this time headed for his face. Matthew quickly jerked to the side sending the charging midget into the car door. The dwarf dropped stunned.

          Matthew leaned forward to grab the keys he had dropped, the other midget trying to pull him back by the hair. Matthew threw elbow after elbow behind him until he knocked the little guy down. Matthew grabbed the keys in one hand and the leg of one of the midgets with another. He dragged the munchkin to the back of the car and unlocked the trunk. He threw the midget in and slammed it shut. "We're going to the cops. See if they can't cut your ass down to size." Matthew pounded on the trunk. “You like that? Huh?” He pounded some more.

          Matthew looked around the car for the other dwarf, but he was gone. Matthew slowly stalked around the vehicle, looking under it. No one was there. He went and unlocked the driver's door, quickly glancing over his shoulder, before prying it open and climbed in. As he was about to turn the key in the ignition he looked into the rearview mirror. His nose was bleeding. Those little punks!

          Suddenly the passenger side window exploded into shards. Matthew turned to see a rock in the seat next to him. There was a thud and then another. Matthew looked out the window to see the missing midget throwing stones at his car. He hurriedly exited, leaving the keys inside. "Stop that!" Matthew yelled. The dwarf responded with a rock that barely missed Matthew's head. "Hey!" The midget threw another rock catching Matthew in the knee. Matthew limped after the little fellow. The midget threw a final rock in a futile attempt to end the stunted charge hitting Matthew in the arm. The little guy quickly ran with Matthew in hot pursuit. They circled around the car as if playing a kid's game. Though his heart was in it, those short legs were no match for Matthew's. Matthew quickly grabbed the midget in a headlock and started dragging him kicking and screaming back to his car.

          Matthew grabbed the keys and limped back to the trunk. "I thought you guys were supposed to be happy. Whistling while you work and shit." The midget fought with him as he popped the trunk. As it opened the midget trapped inside jumped up and knocked Matthew out with a tire iron.


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          The stars shone like luminous islands in the sea of night. Each triumphantly glimmered as an ethereal jewel out of the reach of man, gems of untold wealth that enriched man’s thoughts.

Humanity once thought those strobing specks were the immortalized memorials of their legendary forebears, heroes that had lived lives of epic proportions and whose images were meant to embolden, guide, and inspire those that came after. There was something more to that horizon; it was man’s spiritual home. Each one of those shining stars was a giver of life, light, and possibilities. They inspired man to strive beyond himself that, one day, he might reach them.

Then came science, that murderer of myth; science revealed those jewels to be so numerous as to be worthless, their origins mundane, their possibilities quantifiable realities. Man touched the stars and left his flaws upon them. The stars went from immortal legends to finite gas and fire always on the verge of fading out. The mystery was stripped away and lost with time, the spiritual replaced by the corporeal.

Now, those stars were as mortal as those who stared up at them. They were beings that seemed so close, yet were so distant from one another. Their light was simply a shallow image to cover the turmoil within them. Without mystery, the heavens lost meaning. Man lost interest in staring up at the firmament, his head bowed to the realities of life.

          From that lofty height one single man fell away from such divine diversions back through obscuring clouds to his set, mortal place on that speck of dirt in the universe known as Earth.

Matthew sat alone at his table in the food court ringed by the bustling crowds of the modern day, that encircling miasma of men and child obscuring any and all paths out of the current purgatory he found himself floating in, namely that capitalist Paradise known as “The Mall”. Matthew stared up through the large skylight at the free, uncontrolled firmament beyond. He was one of the few that still looked to the heavens. That sea above was the sole glimmer in this dull world of worthless endeavor. From that ocean arose mysteries in his mind as to the meaning of it all: life, faith, love.

Love: that mystery he was continually trying to figure out in his own awkward way. It was not simply his bumbling grip that prevented him from getting a grasp on it. It was the complexity of women that thwarted his every theory on the subject. Tonight was another attempt at that irritating, unsolvable equation.

He was currently on a date. A blind date. A blind internet date. With a girl he had met…online. He’d spoken to her. Well, he had spoken to her once…via text. At least she knew his name…his screen name. It all seemed so impersonal the way the date had been arranged, ironic as that sounded. They had originally agreed to see a romantic movie and have dinner; then it turned into a comedy and dinner; then just dinner. Matthew felt like he was bartering some trade agreement.

It was all so pathetic, but Matthew didn’t care. Loneliness had a way of eroding pride. The problem was he simply didn’t understand people, women in particular. One look at this wild-haired, clumsy man-child was enough to send even the most kindhearted scrambling for escape. To say every encounter helped to deepen Matthew’s complex about himself was an understatement.

So here he was now, his vigil stretching into its third hour. There was still no sign of her. Even Matthew had to admit the likelihood of her showing up was approaching zero, yet another gaping hole in his life.

“Nice waste of an evening,” he mumbled. Sadly, what else did he have to do tonight?

The rumblings of the crowd began to drown out his thoughts. The murmurs sent a tremor through his excited frame causing him to tremble further as the buzz itched at his ears. All those faces turned towards him as they circled around and placed him under siege at the center of the food court. Matthew bit his lip as he felt the eyes of the surging crowd upon him. They knew why he was here, cackling beneath their whispers. He dipped his head as he tilted his glasses down forcing the masses to merge into a blur as he gripped his date’s gift, a book, closer to his chest like a protective totem.

          Yet, despite himself, Matthew was drawn back to those scattered about the tables littering the food court, their lives causing his brooding head to rise. It was some sort of magnetic attraction that kept him from fully pulling away, but as he watched them smile and laugh their faces wrinkled into something demonic and mocking. Their happiness only increased Matthew’s bitterness and made him recoil.

          His eyes drifted over to the empty seat across from him. Why had he even come? Had he really expected her to show? He had been sitting here for three hours too long, his head jerking with each possible sound. Each glimpse proved a disappointment. Every minute further depressed him. She wasn’t coming. Matthew slumped, dejected as ever. Love, like so many other things, would forever remain a mystery to him.

          Matthew’s eyes wandered the food court before settling on one couple as they talked and laughed. The man said some off comment and she grinned. “How do you do it?” Matthew asked from just out of earshot. “You make it all look so easy.”

The girl gently touched her partner’s forearm before giggling some more. Matthew let the guy fade out of sight as he focused on her. Her flaxen hair was shining gold, her blue eyes sapphire. That ivory goddess became an idol of worship. “What do I have to do to get the attention of a girl like you?” he whispered. As if she heard him, the girl turned towards Matthew causing him to quickly look away.

What was he still doing here? Matthew plowed that wild mane of his as he took a deep breath. He had studying to do. The big final was tomorrow, but first he had to return the book. He didn’t want anything to remember this night by.

          Matthew got up to go on his little quest, his bow-legged waddle drawing a lot of stares as he made a hasty retreat into the consuming crowd bumping into a table on the way causing it to wobble in his wake. He felt like a fish in a current, separate from those that rushed around him. He bobbed and weaved through the undulating waves making his way through a crowd that seemed bent on pushing him back. He let the world pass by him as he went his own way regardless of who he had to push through to get there.

          After a few minutes, he left the main artery and entered a bookstore heading straight for the register. Without so much as a warning, Matthew slammed his book down on the counter.

"Help you, sir?" the cashier asked with a nasal drone.

          "Refund please."

          The cashier looked down at the book. “Didn’t you buy this a few hours ago?” His eyes flicked back up to Matthew.

          “I’ve had a change of mind,” Matthew told him as he pushed the book forward.

          "We don't give refunds," the cashier replied as he pushed the book back.

          “I didn’t do anything to the book.”

          “That’s not the issue.”

“Then why can’t I have a refund?”

          “Because it’s against policy.”

          “Well that’s a stupid policy.”

“I’m not here to debate company policy,” the cashier breezily cooed.

“The fact you’re jockeying a register proves you’re not capable of much.”

“I’m capable of not giving you a refund, sir.” The cashier stressed the final word sarcastically.

Matthew balled his fists. “Well, I don’t want the book,” he growled.

“Well, that’s just too bad.”

“What if I just give it to you? The store still makes a profit.”

“I can’t take that book back from you, sir.”

“Why the hell not?”

“Policy,” the cashier stated once more.

“What do you want me to do with it?”

“Take it home with you. Make it into a paperweight. It’s not my concern.”

“This book is going back on that shelf,” Matthew all but demanded pointing at the book-lined wall.

“This book isn’t going anywhere save home with you.”

Matthew wanted to pick up the tome and slam it over the man’s head. At least then he’d have some purpose for it. His palms began to sweat as he locked eyes with the cashier. Though it was only a book and though it hadn’t cost much there was a principle to the whole thing. As insane as it seemed, Matthew simply wanted to correct the mistake he had made in purchasing the book, correct his ever removing it from the wall. Its very weight reminded him repeatedly of a bad choice. He was not going to keep the thing nor throw it away. It was going back from whence it came.

A crowd had started to develop around the two as a line formed behind Matthew. “Can you hurry it up?” the customer behind Matthew asked. Matthew simply waved him away.

“Sir, I’m going to need you to step aside,” the cashier coolly ordered.

“I’m not leaving here with this book,” Matthew retorted.

“Oh, just take the book,” the customer behind Matthew interjected. Others in the crowd murmured in agreement with him.

Matthew could feel his anxiety starting to grow, his heart ramping up as his breathing shallowed stealing his ability to reply.

“Come on buddy, I’ve got places to go,” someone said from the back of the line.

“Stop wasting our time.”

“Sir, you’re going to have to take your book.”

“Yeah, just take the book and leave.”

“Why do you have to cause so many problems?”

Matthew fidgeted as he stood there struggling with himself. He wanted to run out of there, but the weight of that book anchored him. “I’m sorry,” he managed to sputter over his shoulder to the angry mob before quickly jerking back towards the cashier. “I’m not leaving here with this book,” he hissed.

“Well you are going to have to, sir,” the cashier stated.

          Matthew grimaced, the faces closing in on him. He looked everywhere for salvation, some sort of solution, before his eyes settled on a little placard pasted to the back of the cash register. “You give in-store credit for returns?”

          The cashier’s eyes narrowed realizing a weakness in the return policy. “Yes, sir.”

Matthew grabbed the nearest book and dropped it on top of his return. "I'll take this."

          The cashier caught a glimpse of the title and put his hands up in mock self-defense. "Encyclopedia of Serial Killers, hmmmm?"

          "Yeah, I like to masturbate to the crime photos," Matthew cut back, agitated by the cashier’s smug voice. The minute the words left Matthew’s mouth he felt his face sear. He swore the flesh would melt right off his skull. He looked over his shoulder and around the shop. Ghastly faces hovered about him in the silence, mouths agape with mothers clucking their tongues.

          One mother was hurrying out the store with her son in tow. “What does masturbate mean mommy?” the tyke asked as he passed.

Matthew gave everyone a fleeting smile as his hands shook and a sickness started in his gut. Someone coughed briefly breaking the quiet as Matthew turned back to the cashier. "Uh, just...uh, put it in a bag." He swallowed that lump that caused his voice to break.



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Below are what the critics and you, the audience, have to say about the novel Anti-Christ: A Satirical End of Days:


This is a satire and farce that not only portrays the corruption and misuse of societal institutions but also excoriates those institutions for what they have done to the principles upon which they claim to be based.

Huffington Post


This book is outrageous, wildly over the top and funnier than hell, and you will either be howling with laughter or angry - maybe both!

Hugh, No More Mr. Nice Guy


This book is wild.

Geoff O., Amazon


I wish the public would dare to try something new and pick up books by unknowns. They might be surprised at how many entertaining or interesting ideas there are out there.

C. Varga, Amazon


It's like SouthPark on steroids.

Geoff S., Barnes and Nobles


Is this going to generate leaders in the Times, and a stiff note from one of the Archbishops?

Michael, Grumpy Old Bookman


It will strike a responsive chord with those tired of the increasing dominance of religion in society and its growing role in politics.

Tim, Prairie Progressive


This novel is a hilarious distraction from the very real and dangerous world we find ourselves in. You can’t help but to smile and chuckle as you read it. With the way things are today, who could ask for anything more?

Judas, Readers Without Borders


It will strike a responsive chord with those tired of the increasing dominance of religion in society and its growing role in politics.

Best Seller Reports


There are probably many in its intended audience who will view it all as a reflection of the renowned mantra from Network, "I'm mad as hell, and I'm not going to take this anymore!"

EIN News


Moses has taken all forms of spiritual faith and verbally pissed all over them to make one of the most hilarious must-reads of this year. Personally, I believe Matthew is headed straight for Hell. I think I’ll also be joining him for the ride.

Qelqoth, Cult of Qelqoth


Although a short novel at 396 pages, Anti-Christ: A Satirical End of Days manages to pack in religious, secular and celestial corruption, the story of a downtrodden everyman who somehow becomes entangled in it all, and an amusing look into the secret life of angels, binding it all together with keen intelligence and gritty prose.

An9ie, An9ie


Mr. Moses has done his job well. His characters are well formed, genuine, aptly supporting this cabaret of imaginative intrigue.  Yes, I roared with laughter throughout this distinctive book.

Pamela, PODPeep


This novel is founded on an unusual and clever premise that will hook you in and keep you wondering where, and how, the madness will end.

Evangeline, Evangeline Than


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If you have enjoyed these peeks into my novel, you can find more info over at the official site www.anti-christ.biz where you can find purchase information as well as my ongoing blog dealing with the insanity of life.

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