Spreading the Word

A short story by

Peter Rigby

[with apologies to Saki.]

Clovis adjusted a knee, nodded contentedly at his reflection in the window, and relaxed. Time passed. He began to fidget. Where was Reggie? Someone had to admire his handiwork. It took skill to arrange oneself artistically on a sunlounger.

The whine of a vehicle crawling up the steep drive sounded promising. Raising himself on an elbow he watched a late model car turn in under the trees and fall silent, leaving the humid air to throb once more with the raucous stridor of a million Cicadas.

"Reggie," he called to a rustle in the shrubbery beside the verandah, "we have visitors. Stop massacring those plants and go make them welcome."

A few minutes later, virility artlessly accentuated by torn-off jeans and heavy work boots, Reginald was trailed onto the verandah by a middle-aged, portly gentleman in a wide-brimmed straw hat, grey suit, white shirt and dark tie. Mauve and white trainers on tiny feet rendered the vision ridiculous rather than eccentric. Panting audibly, the man gazed back towards his car while dabbing his forehead with an already damp handkerchief.

Overweight and fallen arches, Clovis surmised. Wonder what’s in the briefcase he’s clutching to his flabby bosom. The flat-footed man’s companion was a more cheerful sight — dark, slim, handsome and hatless, a youth in white cotton slacks and open-necked shirt.

Reginald waved the guests to low wicker chairs. Before they could sit, however, a discreet cough from the shadows made them jump. As sun-blinded eyes adjusted to the gloom, Clovis was revealed, still exquisitely arranged but now sporting a chaste wisp of turquoise silk.

"Lovely weather," he murmured, lavishing a smile on the startled youth. "Are you selling something?"

"No… no… we’re…"

"We’re not selling anything — we’re giving it away!" flatfoot interrupted, eyes studiously avoiding his host’s flimsy attire as he lowered himself into his chair.

"Why? Isn’t it any good?"

"On the contrary! It is the greatest gift offered to mankind."

"My mother told me never to accept gifts from older men," Reggie frowned. "They always want something in exchange."

The youth turned his head away to conceal a grin.

"I am referring to the gift of joy one experiences when one truly knows and lives with God."

"That must be you," smiled Clovis to the handsome adolescent. "You’re like a young god.’

"No… I’m only William."

"Well, Only-William, I’m Clovis and this is Reggie. Do you live with God, William?"

"No… I… I live with Dad." He nodded towards the older man.

"Your mother must be good looking?"

"Why?"

Clovis winked and flicked an eye in the direction of the father.

William was suddenly afflicted with a bout of coughing.

"My name is Henry Shatter," the homely and sweating father announced brusquely, "and we are here to offer you everlasting happiness."

"How nice of you, Henry."

....................

"Now, let’s see if I’ve understood everything," Clovis recapitulated. "When God’s sick of watching us muck everything up, he’ll re-build the world and let us live in peace, love, health and harmony with everyone and everything for ever and ever — on condition that we join your gang."

"Our congregation! But yes, in essence that's correct."

"Imagine, Reggie, you and me — lovers for eternity."

Reginald’s expression was enigmatic.

Henry turned an unattractive shade of grey. "No, no! There will be none of that!"

"What?"

"Sodom and Gomorrah!"

"Blessed if I know them."

"Cities of evil punished by God!"

Clovis leaned forward and patted the old man’s knee. "No worries, Henry, we’re not evil. You’d be hard put to find anyone more law-abiding and honest than us. Isn’t that so, Reggie?"

Reginald rumbled assent.

"I am referring to homosexuality!" shouted a thoroughly aroused Henry. "It is against God’s law!"

"Goodness! Then why did he make us like this?"

"To test you. To see if you could overcome your affliction and be worthy of his love."

"I don’t feel afflicted."

"God sends troubles to test our worth."

"Like plagues, pestilence, war and death?" Clovis smiled brightly.

"Yes."

The smile dissolved into a frown. "Are you sure he’s a loving god, Henry? Maiming, laming, murdering and spreading dread-diseases - just to test us? To see if we are worthy of his love?"

"You've misunderstood…."

"Did you hear that, Reggie. God sits up in heaven organising his own ‘snuff-movies’." Clovis turned to a drop-jawed William. "Doesn’t it strike you as the teeniest little bit perverted, Only-William?"

"I… don’t think it is meant to be..."

"We are not here to question God’s works!" thundered Henry. "The bible says that homosexuals may never go to heaven."

"Homosexual is an adjective, not a noun, Henry, and it carries such a lot of baggage. Reggie and I are same-sex-oriented men.’ He smiled winningly. ‘And remarkably fine specimens — don’t you agree?" He stretched languidly causing the wisp of blue silk to tremble precariously. ‘Without wishing to be pedantic, Henry, a statement that begins ‘Homosexuals are…’ will be both false and meaningless."

"It won’t."

"Are you the same as all heterosexual men?"

"Of course I am!"

"Most murderers and child molesters are heterosexual."

"Well... yes."

"That one word, heterosexual. Does it adequately describe you, Henry Shatter?"

"God hates the sin, but loves the sinner."

"Parried like a politician. So, you love me, but hate what you think I do?"

"Yes."

"What do I do?"

"Homosexuals are doomed to unhappiness because they reject god’s law, coerce young boys into their foul practices, undermine family values, indulge in promiscuous sex with multiple partners... like…like…dogs!’ Henry glared at his silent hosts, paused indecisively, then, drawing strength from faces which were the picture of concentrated interest and credulity, he dared the final lunge — "and then God punishes them with AIDS."

"Does that describe us, Reggie?" murmured Clovis after a respectable pause.

"Nope! Always preferred it from the front, myself. Never cared for the ‘doggy’ position. Like to see who’s doing what to whom."

A thoughtful silence followed this revelation.

"You will never attain eternal life and happiness unless you renounce your evil ways and beg God’s forgiveness," Henry asserted with only slightly less conviction.

"Oh, Reggie, I can’t go to heaven! " Clovis wailed whipping off the tiny bit of silk and dabbing at his eyes. "It’s unfair, Henry. You must have misunderstood God’s intentions."

Henry shrivelled back into his seat. William slithered forward.

"Cover yourself!" Henry ordered. "God hates perverts!"

"Oh, but so do I! We only indulge in good clean fun, don’t we, Reggie?"

"Sexual congress with another man is unnatural!"

"It’s perfectly natural for me! Don’t forget Christians were stoning left-handed people not so long ago and burning women who spoke in church."

"Sex between men is wrong!"

"Poor Henry. You’re obsessed with sex! Don’t you know the Bible has no sexual ethic? But it does have a ‘love’ ethic. What do you mean when you say you ‘love’ me, Henry?"

"I love you as Jesus loves – in purity."

"According to Luke, Jesus enjoined us ‘to judge for ourselves what is right."

"You think that you, a sinner, can ever know God’s intentions?"

"Know thy enemy, Henry."

"God’s purpose for sexual union is children."

"Is William your youngest?"

"Yes."

Clovis turned his brilliant smile on William. "How old are you, William?"

"Nineteen."

"Then, Henry," gasped Clovis in horror, "you haven’t had sex for over nineteen years! Poor darling!"

Henry’s eyes glazed. "William! We are going."

"But, you can’t go! You came to save us!"

"You must want to be saved."

"I do!" cried Clovis, leaping to his feet. "I do! I do!"

Henry struggled to his feet.

"I insist you save me," ordered Clovis petulantly, placing both hands on Henry’s shoulders and pressing him firmly back into the chair. "Especially since you have accepted our hospitality." Positioned directly in front of the older man, hands on slim, evenly bronzed hips, Clovis stared sorrowfully at the averted eyes of his guest. "Do you realise, Henry, that hundreds of people regularly pay a great deal of money to see me like this, and you are turning away your gaze? What on earth’s the matter with you? Don’t you like God’s handiwork?"

"You have sold yourself to the devil and are perverting God’s plan. A good man would cover his unclean parts."

"Speak for yourself! I showered minutes before you arrived. You despise God’s handiwork and are obsessed by sex, whereas I am content with the life God gave me."

"You twist my meaning. God doesn’t hate you, he hates your actions."

"I am my actions, just as you are yours."

"No! You can be changed. You can become like me, pure in mind and body."

"Quite frankly, the offer doesn’t appeal. I think I enjoy this world rather more than you and certainly do less harm to my fellow men."

"How dare you!"

"How dare you? Your assertion that my life is evil, is an attempt to destroy my self-respect, contentment and love of life!" Clovis' voice had attained the cutting edge of a practised tub-thumper. In vain did Henry plug his ears. "Everyone is different. You surely didn’t choose to be a creepy little maggot. Reggie didn’t choose to be a gorgeous hunk and William was born cute, curious and lively. Unless you accept people as they are you are doomed to die as you live - a moral and mental cripple." Clovis paused for effect, threw himself onto the divan in a pose evoking Michelangelo’s Adam receiving the gift of life, and beamed a winning smile. "No offence, Henry, but I hope you rot in hell for a thousand years for every young man who kills himself because of your mind-poisoning lies and malignant dissemination of guilt." Clovis sighed sorrowfully into the ensuing silence and, with a sensuous stroke of flanks and a fluttering of lashes at William, threw back his head, the better to expose a fine neck.

Henry, as thick-skinned as the next salesman, took up the gauntlet. "Guilt is it? The guilt is in wrong action! I point out the action to allow the sinner to meet God!"

"Let God tell me himself."

"I am his messenger."

"If God is infinitely smart, then he would choose someone infinitely more attractive than you as his messenger."

"St. Paul, in his letters to the Romans..."

"According to Gore Vidal, St Paul was bonking Timothy and, preferring his young men cut, had him circumcised. A dangerous operation at that age. He made him Bishop of Antioch as a reward. No! Don’t interrupt!"

Henry subsided in dismay as his inquisitor stood again and leaned over him.

"Even you, Henry, must know that the Bible’s a tendentious translation from Greek and Hebrew texts, hearsay and gossip. Prurient bigots like you, no longer able to rail against women and other races, have turned your persecutory talents to sexual orientation, rendering millions miserable and causing thousands of young men to suicide."

Henry surged forward; knocked Clovis back onto the divan, grabbed his son’s wrist and hauled him off the balcony along the leaf-strewn path to his car.

"Oh well, can’t convert ’em all," sighed Clovis philosophically. "Pity about William, though."

"Henry left his bag."

William ran back and, smiling shyly, bravely faced Clovis who was standing at the bottom of the steps with the briefcase.

"One day you may want to talk to someone," Clovis murmured, slipping a card into William’s hand. "That’s our address and phone number. We’d be delighted to see you – any time at all."

William accepted the briefcase, touched both Clovis and Reginald on the fingers, then raced lightly back to the messenger of God’s mercy and grace.