Pagan Place

Judas (not his real name) was the first to enter and he immediately felt the attention of both servers behind the counter and customers in line. The others in his group had fallen back, once again, he thought, trying to freeze him out. They slowly filed in; groups of two or three wearing robes, sandals, and beards, and soon all twelve stood implacably in line under a hail of gawks and whispers. Even the cooks in their filthy aprons wearing looks of dull Mcshock came out to watch. The lunch break hike up from the Earth Community theater hall where they held rehearsal for a production of Jesus Christ, Superstar had been the same. Cars slowed as the Apostles passed, a few honked or shouted, and pedestrians stopped to watch. Many of them, both cars and people, turned around to follow, and by the time the group reached their destiny they had a throng in tow.

The young woman in a cow suit put her sign down when they passed and placed her hooves on her hips. Mary managed a competing fast food chain restaurant and had taken on the bovine promotional task earlier that morning when Randy, once again, had failed to show up. She just knew that the manager of her competitor, also named Mary, was up to some gimmick, and it annoyed her now to see her own place passed over as more and more cars pulled in next door. The spectacle had grown larger every day and was beginning to affect her daily customer count.

None of the other Apostles joined Judas in line so he moved into one where Peter was already placing an order. Peter stared hard at the floor as if he wanted to sink into it, and when the counter clerk asked for his order, he mumbled something unintelligible.

"I'm sorry, sir, could you repeat that? It's just a little noisy in here with all the excitement you and your friends brought in."

"They're not my friends", Peter whispered.

"I'm sorry?"

Behind him in line, Judas heard John tell Thomas that Christ's Subaru had just pulled into the parking lot, and when Thomas went to the window to check, Judas stepped up and took his place in line.

Peter repeated to the girl behind the counter, "They are not my friends - I don't know them."

She cackled and winked at the boy attending the next register. "Yeah, right."

Peter, annoyed now, raised his voice. "Look, for the third time, I don't know them."

As their orders came up, The Apostles retired to a large table reserved for them just in front of the Playland. When his own order was up, Judas reached into the pocket of his robe to pay, but felt only change. He turned a pleading look to James.
"I've only got silver - can you cover me?"

James thrust him a five but did not make eye contact. It had been like this since Luke caught him with a Bible on the back porch of their rented three-story dilapidated wood frame two weeks earlier. The twelve of them lived there with another group of males and females numbering as many as twenty at times and shrinking to as few as three or four when rent day approached. They claimed to be neo-pagans, and no week passed without a celebration of some religious festival or rite that invariably ended in orgy. The inhabitants of the house moved freely between transitory romantic liaisons, restricted not by gender or number, but only by statistical laws of permutations and the whimsical sanction of JC Weeks, their informal and undisputed tribal chieftain. The lease was in JC's name and his family owned the Earth, so he cast all parts, both at home and at the Earth. JC always played lead.

The family enjoyed lives free of responsibilities and moral encumbrances endemic to more traditional religions. Several months earlier, however, Judas (not his real name) awoke one morning after the last day of the Sirius Rising festival to find a whiskered, pink-nosed emptiness gnawing at the edges of his Id. It grew over time into a ravenous despair that prompted Judas (not his real name) to withdraw from the debauchery. He tried to talk to the others about it - to incite some higher thinking - but that only deepened his isolation.

Outside, more cars pulled in and Mary snorted and stomped, her frustration growing until she finally decided to take action. She walked next door, propped her sign against the glass vestibule, and went in. The place was so packed that it was hard to move about, but she spotted the epicenter right away. The Apostles were seated a table in the back, arranged as in da Vinci's Last Supper, munching on burgers and fries and slurping sodas while a gaggle of customers snapped photos on camera phones. The seating gimmick was a JC idea intended to promote the show. Mary lowered her head and pushed through the herd until she stood in front of the group.

"Look guys," she bellowed, "that beef is no good for you. Doesn't do me any good either. Come on over next door and have some nice, healthy chicken - my treat."

Judas nodded and said, "Hey, the cow makes a good offer."

Luke shook his head. "I don't know - I'm not much into chicken. There's a reason we walk past your place. Get it - pasture place." He laughed once, alone, and silence ensued. "Anyway, we only get a half hour. Wonder what JC would do?"

Mary countered, "Hey, no worry. I'll get your order up pronto." She turned to the others. "You know those burgers will just sit and fester in your gut. Besides, that's my body you eat." She held out her arms that they might behold her bovinity.

Meanwhile, JC sliced through the cheering mob and made his way to the table, but found that Mary blocked the only remaining seat.

"Excuse me, but I believe that's my seat, could I ask you to please get thee behind me?"

"I was just explaining to your friends how they are trashing their health." She held a hoof to her mouth and whispered, "What's wrong with these guys. They just sit here like zombies."

He nodded. "Yeah, you'll have to forgive them. They're not too bright, but they are a loyal band of miscreants - mostly anyway, and besides, they're all I've got."

Mary stamped and turned back to the table. "Okay, you all kill yourselves if you want to, but if you ever come to your senses, think about me when you eat and drink. I warned you."

She turned on her hooves and disappeared into the crowd. JC shouted after her that several of them were partial to fish, but it was too late. He turned back to his followers.

"Now that was one mad cow."

A young woman broke through the crowd and put an arm around JC. He introduced her as Mary, manager of the restaurant. Judas knew the face but couldn't place it.

"Did you tell them yet?" she asked.

JC shuffled his feet and looked down, then up again.
"Look, there are going to be a couple of casting changes. I've got a little situation and I'll have to miss the Friday and Saturday production. Busted for possession last year and I've got to do the community service thing this weekend. I should be back for the Sunday matinee".

Thomas whispered to Peter, "Sure, I'll believe that when I see it."

That girl - it was the new one he'd seen at the house, giving JC a pedicure. Seeing her in clothes had thrown him off.

Judas asked, "What else? You said a couple of changes."

JC grimaced and said, "Yeah, I've been meaning to talk to you about that. I think maybe it would be better if Mary does the Judas role. She's got a little more experience, and honestly, a better voice."

The words brought a sudden chill that froze all sound and motion. Judas felt his cheeks blaze.

"I don't believe it. You're seriously gonna flush me - just like that." He glared at Mary and said, "And I don't suppose this has anything to do with her company sponsoring the play?"

"Now look, "JC protested, "This is for the good of the production, it's not just about any one of us."

"Forget you, you snake! I'm going next door" Judas (not his real name) shouted, and stomped off into the crowd.

JC watched him go, then turned back to his followers and spread his arms wide. "Oh well, not a happy meal for him." He grinned and added, "Dibs on his burger".