Kali sat in the cluttered hotel room and stared at a rerun of
Baywatch.
No way, he-she-it thought, this could have stayed on the air for all of
those years without some sort of divine intervention. And it sure wasn't
mine.
He-she-it picked up the phone and hit the 0.
"No, Mr. Kale," a tired voice answered, "No one's been here looking for
you. There wasn't anyone looking for you 5 minutes ago. And there
probably won't be anyone looking for you when you call again 5 minutes
from now." Click
Kali cradled the phone, unsatisfied. That clerk sounded bored, tired,
and incompetent. He-she-it considered cursing him with bad karma for his
next 20 incarnations, but decided against it.
Just then, there was a soft rap on Kali's door. Multiple raps, in fact.
Before Kali could respond to the rapper, the door swung open and Shiva
shambled in.
"I'm going to kill that desk clerk. There isn't a single cube of ice in
the machine. Do you realize what this heat is doing to my martini? I
said that a convention in a motel in Death Valley was a bad idea, didn't
I? But you liked the name, didn't you! You said: 'Hey, let's get all the
gods together and have our conference someplace different this
millennium!' You said..."
Kali sighed and clicked the remote, ratcheting the TV's volume up a few
notches to drown out Shiva's rant. It was going to be a long day... and
an even longer millennium conference. Kali decided to try the desk clerk
again. Maybe by this time that call had come through.
He-she-it reached for the phone just as it rang.
"Hello?"
Children's voices singing:
"He's got the whole wor-old In his hands
He's got the whole wide wor-old In his hands
He's got the whole wor-old In his hands
He's got the whole world In his hands."
Smarmy overdub:
"Friends, are you confused, bedazed, befuddled?
Are you searching for guidance, for relevance, for truth?
Are you gaaaaakkkkkkkkk!"
Various voices:
"What happened?"
"What is this stuff?"
"I don't know but his mouth is full of it."
"Hey, what's with the kids? What are they doing?"
"Why, those little . . ."
"I didn't think they were old enough to . . ."
Click. Hum
"And that's another thing: this sexual identity crisis of yours." Shiva
tssked. "It's making you grumpy. It's making me grumpy. C'mon,
already. How hard is it to make up your mind? Are you a he, a she, or an
it? I mean, it's tough enough to choose an outfit . . ."
Kali, still in the lotus position from morning calisthenics, levitated
lightly from the bed, and scooted through the air toward the room's
incommodious closet.
"I don't have to choose, and you can't make me," He-she-it insisted,
more out of a desire to annoy Shiva than to take a stand. "Why are you
so hung up on my gender all of a sudden?"
Shiva went into lift-off and floated up right behind Kali. "And why are
you using expressions like 'hung up', all of a sudden?! You sound
ridiculous. That's no way for an ancient god to speak. It's . . .
ungodly. In fact, if you ask me -- Hey!"
Kali had floated serenely into the motel room closet and the door swung
shut right in Shiva's flustered face.
Speaking directly to the false grain barrier, Shiva continued. "I hate
it when you do that. You're acting like an adolescent instead of a
million year old deity!" Shiva's all-seeing eye blinked. "Sayyyy... is
that what this is all about? Are you having some kind of an
age-and-gender identity crisis? Because if that's what you're up to, I'd
say it's a little late in the game to start -- OW!"
The closet door swung back open suddenly, hitting Shiva squarely in the
forehead.
Now dressed in cut off shorts with Limp Bizkit and Marilyn Manson
patches on them, Kali sailed out of the closet. He-she-it did a poor job
of pretending not to be amused at Shiva's rubbing of the rapidly
blackening Third Eye.
"Serves you right." Kali said, "Now hurry up or we're going to be late
for Vishnu's Tupperware thing."
The phone started ringing again.
"You get it," Kali said, buttoning his-her-its tunic and adjusting the
boa. "It's about time you did something around . . ."
"Weirdo godling's room," Shiva said, picking up the phone. "He-she-it's
not available at the moment--busy crossdressing and trying to
photosynthesize at the same . . ."
"Give me that!" Kali snarled, grabbing the handset. "Hello? Who? No this
isn't Amon Ra. No, you've got the wrong avatar. Avatar. Ay-vee-ay . . .
how would I know what it means? Listen, you called me, I didn't call
you. Well, you didn't get him so try again." And he-she-it slammed the
phone back into its cradle.
"Who was that?"
"Someone looking for Amon. I wish that son of a . . . "
A knock sounded at the door.
"Maid service!" croaked a suspiciously un-maidenly voice.
Kali excitedly spritzed on some Teen Spirit cologne and started
shoving Shiva toward the window. "Well, that's the maid so you'd better
fly."
"What?" Shiva shouted. "What is WRONG with you?!" Get your holy hands
OFF me! You are acting SO weird I --"
"Yeah, yeah, whatever, now hit the road and I'll see you in the
conference room later."
Kali pushed the still sputtering and indignant Shiva out the motel
window, not even glancing back as Shiva landed amidst some scruffy
shrubbery.
Kali hurried toward the motel room door, muttering, "Now be cool. Be
cool . . ."
He-she-it took a deep breath, patted his-her-its chest with a number of
hands, and opened the door.
********
Three hours later, Shiva opened that same door.
"What's the matter are you deaf? I've been pounding on that door for ten
minutes!" Several bags full of Tupperware containers clattered to the
table. "I guess you've never . . ."
Shiva stopped. Kali was suspended in mid air above the bed.
But Kali wasn't levitating.
Kali was trussed like a bad Houdini impersonator: strapped, roped, tied,
and hanged from the walls and ceiling.
Gagged, too.
"Kinky," Shiva said, sitting and peering upward. "The eight sets of
handcuffs are a nice touch.
"Mpppph, mpppphle, mpppph," Kali mppphed.
"What's that? Am I still mad at you?"
"Mpppph, mpppphle"
"Why, how could I still be mad at you? Just because you pushed me out of
a 12 storey window? Hey, the shrubbery broke my fall. Just because you
stood me up and I had to go to a Tupperware party alone. Shiva. The
Destroyer. A Tupperware party. Nothing incongruous there, right?"
"Mpppph, mpppphle"
"And then I come back--overtopped with Tuperware, I might add---to find
you wrapped in afterglow--well, anyway, wrapped--following a dilly of a
dalliance with some bimbo or bimbi or Bambi for all I know . . ."
"Mpppph"
"And you're wondering if I'm still mad at you," Shiva leaned back,
peered at Kali closely. "You know, some folks can say things just by
using their eyes . . ."
A moan and a mppph this time.
"Take you, for example. Now, your eyes are saying something to me right
now. Not sure what. Could be: 'Cut me down. Let me free. Get me a
Pepsi.' Something like that . . . " Shiva reached for the phone:
stopped. "But, you see I can't do any of those things because this is a
crime scene," Shiva made little "quote" marks in the air. "And if I got
you that Pepsi, I might disturb some evidence," More little quote marks.
"So you just have to wait until I call the local
gendarmes . . ." And Shiva reached for the phone again. Stopped again.
"No. Can't use this phone. Might be fingerprints," Shiva stood. "Gotta
go to the front desk."
Louder mpppph.
"Hey, don't worry. Everything's gonna be fine. Just hang in there,"
Here, Shiva opened the door, "Until I get back."
Slam.
"Mppph?"
Kali's eyes widened in apprehension as the closet door slowly swung open
and, from within its mothball-smelling depths, a raspy, unmaidenly voice
whispered hoarsely: "Mmmmaid ssssservice."
*******
Shiva returned, half an hour later, with Vishnu, Krishna, and Ganesh
tagging along, giggling wildly all the way down the hall. They burst
into the room as Shiva shrieked, "Get a load of our pal Kali, trussed up
like Dabney Coleman in Nine To Five!"
"Oh, I loved Dolly Parton in that, didn't YOU?" said Ganesh with a flick
of his trunk. But the others were ignoring him.
Kali was not there, trussed up or otherwise.
Instead, there was a note, safety-pinned to a small figurine of Kali
which was suspended from a noose.
The note read:
One down, one million more of you to go.
--Yours devotedly, D. Isside
x x x
|