The god of love will see.., p.1
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       The God of Love Will See You Now, p.1
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           Anthony Schmitz
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The God of Love Will See You Now


  The God of Love

  Will See You Now

  By Anthony Schmitz

  Copyright 2013 Anthony Schmitz

  Thank you for your support.

  Table of Contents

  Seven Facts Concerning the God of Love

  Abandon

  The God of Love Gives the Dial a Twist

  Revenge

  The God of Love Says It's on the House

  Constancy

  The God of Love Meets His Match

  Seven Facts Concerning the God of Love

  1. The God of Love has no recollection of a childhood.

  2. The God of Love's earliest memory is of La Traviata's Venice premiere, in which the overstuffed but aptly named Fanny Salvini-Donatelli filled the lead role of a dying consumptive. The God of Love left the theater with the understanding that love is beautiful, tragic and ridiculous.

  3. Despite tireless effort, the God of Love is incapable of fathering children.

  4. The God of Love appears at first glance to be about 40-years old, but is commonly considered to be older or younger, depending on the beholder's desires.

  5. Having provided the God of Love with his title, the Higher Powers issued no further instructions.

  6. The God of Love has lived in 23 countries and speaks the local language fluently upon arrival.

  7. The God of Love hopes that he is not immortal.

  Abandon

  The God of Love Gives the Dial a Twist

  "Shirley, I am going to tell you something now."

  "Go ahead, Vic. It ain't like you're competing with the radio. Ain't like you're competing with anything except the wind."

  "These are not the best of times. I admit that, Shirley."

  "You ain't doing so much worse than the other characters here."

  "The other men in this camp are not the God of Love."

  "You don't mind my asking, who around here is the God of Love?"

  "I am surprised you would ask."

  "Excuse me now, Vic. But here are a few things I do not believe about the God of Love. I do not believe the God of Love has a bedroom that is also his kitchen and parlor. I do not believe the God of Love sleeps on a mattress stuffed with bed bugs. I do not believe the God of Love has a slop bucket in the corner instead of an actual bathroom. I do not believe the God of Love lives in a Hooverville with dust blowing through all the many crannies."

  "Shirley, my dear, the gods move in mysterious ways. I got nothing more to say about that."

  "Vic, excuse me now for my language. But the gods are not that goddamn mysterious."

  "Answer me this. Do you think everything that goes on in this shack is … normal?"

  "I could use some normal."

  "I am talking about our marital relations."

  "I'm giving it to you straight now, Vic, since you're pushing me. It ain't like you got two dicks, if you know what I mean. Excuse my language again."

  "You are a tough nut, woman. You are forcing me to prove my point."

  “You go ahead, do what you got to do, Mr. Victor Valentine. I’m not saying you’re deficient, I’m just saying you have not necessarily reached the God of Love level in my mind. Whatever that may be.”

  “You are driving me to this. I am hitching another horse to the plow, so to speak. I hope no one gets hurt.”

  “I don’t suspect many girls ever got hurt by big talk.”

  She whisked off her flannel nightgown and tossed it to the dirt floor.

  “I’m giving my dial a turn, Shirl. Don’t say you didn’t ask for it.”

  “Dial away, fool.”

  "Maybe my stock certificates are good for nothing but lighting fires. Maybe my Ford is broke down and dead. But in this bed I am a millionaire. I tell you, these bedbugs are about to jump ship and run for cover. The dust itself is going to grow legs and hustle out that door. I hope the cardboard on the walls does not start on fire."

  "Ain't you one for talk?"

  "I am warning you for the last time. I am about to put my tongue here, and my big toe there, and I will twirl my pinky this way and my thumb that way and if you are lucky you will continue breathing."

  During the next hour or so certain things occurred. Water in the tea kettle boiled though there was no fire under it. The alarm clock went off. A water glass shattered. The God of Love himself passed into unconsciousness. When he awoke, his ear felt like it had been bitten off. He touched it and his hand came away sticky. Shirley was face down on the mattress, her arms stretched out as if she had been tossed from an airplane.

  “Shirley. Shirley.”

  "Uunnhhh."

  "Say something."

  "Is that you, Victor?"

  “Baby, do I need to give the dial another crank? Or are you ready to believe?”

  “How much more you got?”

  “I don’t believe I’m at ten, and my dial goes up past twenty.”

  She reached around, grabbed him and squeezed.

  “Victor, I am not saying that you are surely, one-hundred percent certain, guaranteed-or-your-money-back, the God of Love. Maybe for instance there is some kind of special pecker powder you’re dusting on when I ain’t looking. But I do got to admit there is a possibility you got some extra-mortal thing going on.

  "Nonetheless, you ought to explain to me, Vic, if you are the God of Love, why we live in this shithole like the poor people we are without two pennies to rub together and no prospect whatsoever for the future?”

  “Damn, woman, I’m the God of Love. I am not the God of Wealth. I am not the God of Gracious Living."

  "You know them?"

  "You do not want to meet those boys."

  "How do you know I don't?"

 
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