Paradise Lot: Interludes (Dionysus's Story)

Chapter 5 - What's a Good Chaser for the End of the World?

"Excuse me," I said. "Did you say you were going to end the world?"

Dionysus shrugged. "The world is a bit beyond me. But Paradise Lot is not. I shall end this place and all the Others who live here. That will be my gift to thousands of Others who live in misery. A night of joy. A night like it once was ... and then an end."

"You can't do that," I slurred.

"Why not? No one is happy here. I mean—look at you. You dress in black like some forlorn priest, you face is devoid of the wrinkles that are the battle scars of excessive laughter and your eyes carry a sadness in them that can only come from someone who has lost everything. Can you honestly tell me that you are happy?"

I was dumbstruck. Truth was—I never really thought about whether or not I was happy. There was work to do, and I did it—joy or not. But being drunk right now was the most fun I've had in what felt like forever.

Maybe he was right. End it all. But then again, it might have been the booze talking. Or rather—the lack of booze that ran in my system because the god of wine burnt enough time to get the whole world drunk. Hellelujah! I wished my head would stop swimming so I could think clearly.

"You see," Dionysus said, taking my silent confusion as consent. "You agree."

"No ..." I said. "No, I don't."

"I tell you what—give me one good reason. One absolutely, irrefutable reason why I shouldn't end this miserable existence and I'll stop. Until then, I'm partying like it is my last day on earth, because it is!" With the last words a rainbow more vibrant that any I've ever seen poured out of the rings on his fingers like some grand, impossible fountain.

I looked up at Penemue who, like me, searched for a reason not to destroy Paradise Lot. I could see the same struggle on his face. But still, I found that if I really, really focused on one idea, I would be able to concentrate long enough to find a—

Just as I started to formulate a coherent thought, a lightning bolt struck the lamp post behind us causing it to fall right on Dionysus's head.

↔

Dionysus fell with a whoop, metal pinning him to the asphalt as little arcs of crisp-blue electricity bounced around him. "Ow," he said. "This was unexpected." The fat god pushed against the metal with a grunt, but was unable to budge it. "My dear angel," he said, "I may need a hand with this."

Both Penemue and I bent down to help lift the lamp. "I said the angel—what could a puny human do in a situation like this?"

"Thanks ... and ... you're welcome," I groaned as I put all my strength into it.

I've seen Penemue lift two bales of hay and fly them up to his lodge like he was carrying empty luggage. I just watched Dionysus throw us about like we were made of paper and I was pretty strong—you know, for a puny human. And still, the three of us couldn't budge the dame thing.

Maybe we're just too drunk, I thought looking up at a world that was increasingly becoming less and less focused. "Help," I yelled out to the party goers. But when I lifted my head, I saw that we were totally alone. In fact, the music had stopped as did all the accompanying partying that came with it. The only life left on the street was a goblet of goblins scurrying down a side street and away from us.

They didn't move like creatures having fun. They ran like creatures afraid.

Very, very afraid.

But why the hell were they leaving? We were having a party?

As if to answer my question, a deep raspy voice said, "Don't bother. No force on this earth can free that sorry excuse of a god. Not—unless—I will it." All three of us looked down the road at an Other walking down its center and towards us.