*Owen’s POV*

“Get up, cocksucker!” What?!? I sat up, startled, hitting my head on the cot above mine. Abruptly, I laid back down, and peered around me, blearily searching for the intruder that had shaken me out of sleep. Oh, fuck. It was Z…

“Z? Is… what?” He looked excited. Oh shit, this couldn’t be good.

“Get the fuck up! We have an appointment to keep, faggot!” Z grabbed me by the arm and manually convinced me to get out of bed.

“Alright, alright! What’s going on? Can I get dressed, I’m just in my shorts, man?” Z shoved a mug in my hands.

“Drink, it should help you wake up.” I nodded gratefully and foolishly took a swallow before realizing it was… goldschlager? I forced myself to swallow, afraid to show weakness in front of a madman. Was coffee really too old-fashioned? Wasn’t it a bit early yet? What the fuck time was it anyway? And I seriously needed to talk to Z about the use of homophobic slurs if he wanted to start hanging out, if that was what this was...

Speaking of which, why was Z here? He had his established group of friends, I hardly fit the mold. It probably had something to do with Gwyn, then, and that made me nervous. Things were going well with her… and Z had said something about an appointment?

The last thing I needed was Z threatening Andy, telling him not to break Gwyn's heart. That wouldn't do any good, that sort of thing can't be predicted or controlled. Both Z and Andy were testosterone-y dudes that could blow a fuse, and doubtless they’d end up coming to blows, Gwyn would surely walk in on me trying to stop them, and then she’d die of a heart attack. She'd probably think we'd come back as zombies and were trying to eat Andy. Nah... Gwyn was too smart, I had been cremated, I wasn't sure about genius gutterpunk over there-

“It’ll put hair on your chest, I thought I’d pack goldschlager in honor of the occasion, and all.” Z nodded sagely. It occurred to me that I wasn’t really a huge fan of excessive body hair, but given my current mood, perhaps another swig wouldn’t hurt. I contemplated the gold flakes in the mug for a moment, remembering times with Gwyn at Oberlin.

I faked a third swallow and a brief wince. “Hold this for a tic, I’ll grab my clothes, alright?” Fortunately, Z behaved predictably, and finished the mug for me.

---

Soon thereafter, I found myself following Z through the streets, and learned that I was walking towards my inevitable doom. Given my company, I wasn’t terribly surprised. Z was even more insane than I had thought. I had to give it to him, he had the cajones of a blue whale. Holy shit, go big or go home, I guess.

Z explained, very nonchalantly, that we were on our way to talk to the Devil, as in THE DEVIL, Lucifer, Osiris, Hades, Mictlantecuhtli, Pluto, Erlik, the Morningstar, Aita, Yeomra, the Dark Father, Daebyeol, whatever the fuck you want to call him. As if that weren’t bad enough, Z clearly had some sort of plan he intended to enact once we were engaged in aforementioned conversation. “Shit, I’m not going to blackmail him, and it’s not called extorting either, because that is like, when you do shit involving money… what the fuck is it called when you just convince someone to do what you want, like, using cleverness? Well, fuck it- you’ll see. It’ll be fine. Trust me, just don’t be a pussy, little bitch.”

Z gave me a lively punch to the shoulder by way of reassurance. Well, fuck it. I was on my way, with a lunatic, to attempt to coerce, threaten, or somehow force the hand of the motherfucking devil. No sweat. Nothing could possibly go wrong.

I looked at Z. “So I assume this has something to do with Gwyn?” Z nodded, but seemed reluctant to elaborate. “You’d better have a serious ace up your fucking sleeve, is all I’m saying, dude. I mean, if we’re about to try and play hardball with the goddamned devil-” Z stopped walking and looked at me.

“Holy shit! That was a fucking great pun! ‘Goddamned devil!’ See, you’re not such a fucking stick in the mud after all! Now, I know what you’re thinking, that’s just christianity, you know, but it was still funny, dude!” Z laughed, handcuffs and metal objects clinking on his leather jacket. I decided not to mention that Christianity was by far not the only religion where a monotheistic god had cursed the lord of the underworld, and instead chuckled with him. As Z doubled over in laughter, I watched carefully to make sure any aces didn’t fall out of either sleeve that we might need later.

---

Right before pushing the doorbell, Z gave me a friendly pep talk. “Let me do the talking. No ass-kissing, or we could end up tortured for eternity, alright? Sometimes you need to grow a fucking pair, and right now is seriously not the time for, like, ‘emo/hippie,’ trial and error shit, capiche?” I found his use of gestured quotation marks around ‘emo’ and ‘hippie’ amusing. I decided to heed his advice and flip him the bird. Z nodded approvingly. “Heh, nice, but still, watch and learn.” He pushed the doorbell.

A tubby demon in a waistcoat opened the door, and silently stood back. I figured he was in an awkward position. Z was a sex-worker, and thus technically, socially, the lowest of the low, but he was incredibly powerful and mind-bogglingly wealthy. I was a quarry worker, and probably didn’t even register. The doorman probably had no idea what to say.

Z didn’t hesitate. As soon as the door was shut behind us, he turned to the poor doorman, who looked a bit like a frog to me. “We’re here to see the big man. If it’ll take more than five minutes to get him, any of the ladies of the house will do. We’re in a hurry. Before you go, get an ashtray, or it goes on the carpet.” The doorman smoothly retrieved a crystal ashtray from a side table drawer and silently trundled off down the hall.

Z lit a cigarette. “So, I can fill you in on the details later. But I’m guessing you know that Gwyn’s headed out with that fairy-looking fella?” I nodded, hoping Z never took it upon himself to call Andy that to his face.

“Well…” For the first time, I saw some other part of Z, buried so deep, it could only be seen at just the right angle. “My best friend, Drake, is the one that broke her heart so badly, that last time. She’s so fucked up from it, I mean, you’ve seen it, yeah?” I nodded.

That was an understatement. Gwyn had never dealt well with getting dumped, and it seemed to happen to her pretty chronically. I had honestly thought that Drake leaving her was going to kill her, and been really proud of her when she pulled through. I had never met Drake, I'd been long dead, but I'll never forget the times Gwyn would cry and tell me she wished I was there, that she missed me, she still does it... Shit! I snapped out of my reflection to focus on what Z was saying.

“I feel like I should have been there, I mean, Drake’s my friend, he’s my water-brother, if I had been there, I feel like maybe she would have listened when I told her it wasn’t her, that she’s not a bad person. But I shot myself before... And we hadn’t been talking… Uh…”

Suddenly, the window snapped shut. “So, anyway, I figure, you and I should go tag along and make sure nothing super fucked goes down with this fucking rock star motherfucker. If he’s a bad guy, I’ll waste him. If someone tries to hurt Gwyn, we’ll stop them. Plus, If there are naked chicks, I’ll beat off.” I made a face, horrified. I couldn’t stop myself. Kill Andy!?!

Z made a conciliatory gesture. “Dude, dude, no worries! You can totally beat off too. You know, uh, separately.” He chortled. “Or, fuck, around, if you must, naked dudes. Look, I know I give you shit, but it’s cool, just keep your damned dick away from me, ok? I only like women, girls, I like tits, you know, vagina…” He paused, seeing I was not entirely placated.

“Oh, no-no-no, I’m not, it’s not like that! I don’t, dude, no! Gwyn, eeew! I mean, I care about her like, I mean, I never had a sister, but, um, maybe like that? Plus, I mean, she’s fat, you know? I mean, she’s not repulsively hideous, like, with drool, or stinky, or anything, but, I don’t want to stick my dick in that. Especially, I can’t fucking STAND the noise she makes during sex, I can’t fucking stand it, she’s so loud, no one needs to be that loud, it’s disgusting!” Z cleared his throat, briefly distracted, clearly thinking about something else.

“Um, anyway, so, I don’t think about her like that, no worries dude, ok? I thought you’d want to come along, be, like, my right-hand man, like, point guard.” Z grinned brightly at me, in his mind, all problems solved.

I actually couldn’t help but smile back. Z was a horrible bastard. But I guessed he had some kind of weird, selective capacity for empathy, or he wouldn’t be doing this. “Alright, you crazy fucker, but if we’re going on some insane quest to try and do our best to protect Gwyn, there’s some shit I’d like you to know about me.”

Z gestured to continue. “First, I have a name, and it’s Owen. Second, I’m not gay, I’m bisexual, just for the sake of reference. Third, if you want me to come with you, you can’t use homophobic slurs like ‘faggot’ and ‘fairy.’” I used Z’s little hand-gestured quotation marks for emphasis.

“The only bigoted remarks I will tolerate out of the mouths of regular companions are ones that are being used for reclamation. So, you can use, ‘cracker,’ or, ‘white boy,’ Z, if you feel it empowers you. But no slurs about sexuality, religion, fucking whatever. I will give you slack on saying something is, ‘retarded,’ because, with this shit, you really have to take baby steps, but we will work up to that. Dig?”

Z’s eyebrows went up, and he took a long drag of his cigarette. “I can fucking curse, right?” I nodded. “Oh, fuck, you fucking had me by the balls, shit, I thought I was on my own for a minute, like you were some kind of fucking monk-motherfucker! I was like, how the fuck did Gwyn put up with this dude? But no, you’re just like her, Owen, all lovey-dovey, ugh, shit! Fine, I’ll try, but seriously, you need to cut me some slack if I’m excited or, you know, something’s going down. For example, right now. Let’s start after we leave, mm?” I nodded- fair enough. Z stubbed his cigarette out as the doorman approached, motioning us to follow him down the hall.

Notes

QOTD: ever been to the underworld/had a near-death experience/anything crazy like that?

nope.

i believe in physics, i think that the smallest particles are compressed energy. so it's not impossible that something like a 'soul' or whatever could just be a signature, like a resonance of energy. i've performed and been present for many euthanasias many, many times and felt changes in energies, especially when i was very connected with the pet. i feel this is most tangible if you have a pet that's suffering a great deal and you euthanize, you can feel the relief/absence of suffering in the room once they are gone.

i'd say the closest thing i've had happen was, a few times, i've been sitting on my bed, after both of my cats had been euthanized, and i both heard and felt (as in the bed dipped) one jump up on the bed. i cried i was so happy. i said that the energy of any lost cat was welcome to find a place to sleep at my house, but i was especially glad to have any of mine visit, if they felt like it, as i missed them.

in terms of near-death, i mean, i've totally nearly been hit by a car, but nothing metaphysical.