A Martinez - Divine Misfortune

Bonnie leaned against the refrigerator. The emptiness inside her would stay, she realized. A yawning, devouring cold that would eventually consume her. She yanked a dirty steak knife out of the sink and held it in tight white knuckles.

She had to end it.

The goddess stood in the kitchen doorway. “I’m sorry, Bonnie. I really am.”

“Stop saying that!”

Bonnie charged. She pushed the goddess to the floor and stabbed her in the heart. Bonnie plunged the blade in over and over and over. Every stab stoked the flames of rage, fueled by a need to feel anything besides nothing. Five minutes later, her fury faded but the emptiness remained.

The goddess, her sad face etched with boredom, looked up at Bonnie.

“Are you through?”

There wasn’t a drop of blood on the knife, nor a mark left on the goddess’s flesh. Bonnie dropped the weapon and dragged herself to the sofa. The goddess sat beside her.

The sound of a car crash drew her attention to the movie playing on the TV and the depiction of twisted steel and broken glass. And blood. So much blood.

The goddess opened her mouth.

“Don’t,” interrupted Bonnie. “Just don’t say it.”

Phil hit every bug on the drive from the office. By the time he made it home, the windshield was a mess of smeared insects. There was no wiper fluid, but he managed to avoid driving Elliot’s car off a cliff, though by the end he was peering through a few inches of semi-clear glass. He pulled into his driveway and cringed at the sound of breaking glass. Even with supernatural bad luck, he didn’t see how it was possible to run over three separate bottles and a rusty nail, flattening all four tires.

He walked very carefully across his lawn. Somehow, he managed to step in dog crap anyway. Twice. He left his shoes on the porch.

The card wasn’t where Phil had left it. He searched all over the house for it, stubbing his toes on every piece of furniture before slipping on a new pair of shoes. He checked under the couch cushions, in every drawer. He looked in the refrigerator, behind the entertainment center, and in the trash.

He couldn’t find it. He gave up after an hour.

Phil sat on the couch and stared at the phone. What kind of god didn’t have a prayer? It was a little old-fashioned but a lot harder to lose than a business card. Phil pulled out his wallet and checked it. He’d already checked it a dozen times, but he didn’t have any other ideas.

The card fell into his lap. He questioned if it had been there the whole time and it’d just been his bad luck to not see it until now. Or had it materialized in his wallet after his god had deemed that Phil had suffered enough?

The phone rang for about twenty seconds before someone answered.

“Yello.”

He didn’t recognize the voice.

“May I speak to Lucky, please?” Phil asked.

There was a pause.

“He’s asleep right now,” replied the voice. “Can I take a message?”

“Asleep?”

“He likes to sleep in. Am I speaking to Phil?”

“Uh… yes.”

“Hey, Phil. I’m Tom.”

“Hi… Tom.”

Awkward silence as Phil tried to figure out what to say next.

“Could you maybe wake Lucky?” he asked. “This is a bit of an emergency.”

“Love to help you,” said Tom, “but no can do. I’ll leave a message on the refrigerator. He’ll get it when he wakes up. In the meantime, you’ll just have to stick it out. It’ll only be another couple of hours of misfortune. Take my advice and sit still, don’t do anything, and you’ll be fine.”

“But…”

“Talk to you later, Phil. Praise Luka.”

“Praise Luka,” echoed Phil reflexively.

He followed Tom’s advice and planted himself on the couch. He went to the kitchen once to get some soda. He turned on the TV, but without the remote control, he was stuck watching soaps. When he went to use the bathroom, the toilet clogged. Even though he only peed. When he tried to fix it, the plunger got stuck.

The phone rang at half past eleven. It was Teri, not Lucky, calling to check on Phil’s progress. She sounded exhausted, rattling off a short list of the misfortunes that had befallen her. He was only half-listening. He gave her the same advice Tom had given him and told her he was expecting a call, and that he’d let her know when things were corrected.

Noon rolled around. The phone didn’t ring. He gave it ten minutes, then decided it couldn’t hurt to call again.

“Yello.” It was Tom.

“Hi, this is Phil. I called earlier-”

“Yeah. I remember. Hold on a second…”

Phil made out Tom’s muffled shout.

“Hey, Lucky! It’s Phil!”

Lucky’s reply was too muffled to decipher.

“He says he’ll be right over after he finishes his cornflakes and takes a shower. Forty minutes, tops.”

Phil almost complained but decided it would be smarter to play it safe. He stared at the TV and zoned out. The doorbell rang an hour later. Phil jumped off the sofa. In his eagerness to answer it, he slammed his hip hard into an end table. The lamp fell over and shattered. Grumbling, he limped the rest of the way.

Lucky stood on the porch. He didn’t have any luggage.

“Hey, buddy. What’s up?”

Phil knelt. Not easy to do with his bruised hip. He prostrated himself, trying to get his head lower than Lucky’s. That wasn’t easy either.

“Oh, Great and Merciful Luka, Lord of Prosperity and Good Fortune. We have wronged you and humbly beg your forgiveness-”

“Knock it off, kid.”

Phil dared to raise his head. Lucky smiled at him.

“Get up. I appreciate the old-school supplication, but it’s not necessary.”

“Does that mean you’ve unsmote us?”

“I never smote you in the first place.”

“But since you left we’ve had nothing but-”

“I could go for a pizza. Want to grab a pizza?”

“I am a little hungry,” said Phil. “But my car has four flat tires.”

“No problem. I’ll fly us there.”

Lucky snapped his fingers. A shining globe wrapped around them, and Phil was lifted off the ground to zip over the city. Lucky surveyed the landscape, quickly spotting a cheesy themed pizzeria designed to appeal to children. Since it was a weekday and school was in session, the place was empty. The globe of light pushed through the front doors and deposited Lucky and Phil at the front counter.

“So what do you like on your pie? I’m partial to anchovies myself.”

Lucky surveyed the menu posted behind the clerk, who was festooned in a bright yellow-and-blue uniform with a name tag proclaiming him Gary.

“Sir,” said Gary, “I’m afraid animals aren’t allowed in here.”

“Hold on a second.” Lucky searched through his pockets and produced a standard-issue deity identification card. Gary gave it a cursory inspection.

“Your order, sir?” he asked.

“We’ll take a large pie, extra anchovies.”

“We no longer carry anchovies, sir.”

“Check in the back. I have a feeling you’ll find an old tin behind the canned pepperoni.”

“We use only the freshest ingredients, sir,” said Gary.

Lucky chuckled. “Just do me a favor and check. I’ll also take a large cola and a side salad. Get whatever else you want, Phil. I’ll be over by skeeball.”

After he walked away, Gary asked, “Is that your god? Or is it just some god you know?”

“Mine.”

“And he hangs out with you? That’s pretty cool. My family gods just send us a newsletter four times a year. Oh, and I got a drop cloth of invisibility on my eighteenth birthday.”

“That must’ve been nice.”

“I lost it by the end of the week.” Gary shrugged. “Damn thing was invisible.”