Book of Jim: Agnostic Parables and Dick Jokes from Lucifer's Paradise

151 Pages·2015·2.394 MB·English

by  Adam Spielman

Praising Jim
“It’s as if Douglas Adams wrote an episode of South Park while under the influence of psychotics.”
- Anonymous
“By far my favorite short story series on the internet.”
- Bryn
“Duuude . . .”
- Anonymous
“Such incredible stories! I read them all in one night, without putting down my phone!”
- Natasha
“The Jim stories are an adult form of a Calvin and Hobbes comic. They all espouse a kind of
thought, a thought that isn’t pushed on you. You’re free to think about it, or just enjoy the absurdity at
face value.”
- /u/kawarazu
Also by Adam Spielman
Jarmo

Book of Jim: Agnostic Parables and Dick Jokes from Lucifer’s Paradise, is a work of fiction. Names,
places, and characters are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author
has neither seen Paradise nor spoken with the dead celebrities that inhabit it, and furthermore
confesses that the place probably doesn’t even exist and the Book of Jim is a lie.
Copyright © 2014 by Adam Spielman
Al rights reserved.
Cover art and illustrations copyright © 2014 by Pat Jensen.
ISBN: 978-1508895275
www.drowningdream.wordpress.com/jim
for my parents –
who made me
and thanks to:
fangso and haines and dan and jon,
creators of the most epic fifteen minutes of film ever produced
the /r/writingprompts community on reddit,
for the endless entertainment, ideas, and the occasional upvote
whoever the hell you are (yes – YOU)
because you’re here – and you could be reading Gaiman or getting laid
“If you want to make an apple pie from scratch, you must first invent the
universe.”
– Carl Sagan
I
1
Jim ate the pizza, and it was good. There was pepperoni on the pizza, and sausage, and there were
also bits of bacon. There weren’t any green olives. The cheese was greasy, the crust was thick, and
the sauce was red.
He turned and beheld the angel.
“So I’m really dead,” he said.
“You’re really dead,” the angel said.
Jim chewed the pizza. There was also beer and he drank from the bottle and washed the pizza from
his mouth with the beer.
“That’s good beer.”
“It’s the best beer.”
He looked at the image of his body upon the road, the last angle of his limbs. He thought about the
darkness in the sky and its weight against his open eyes.
“So, am I a soul?” he said.
“Sure,” the angel said.
“Sure?”
“Sure, you’re a soul. Why do I care what you call it?”
Jim chewed some more pizza and drank some more beer, for the beer and the pizza were good. He
beheld the angel once more. It was a shiny angel, white with wings and a halo and the halo was gold.
“I don’t even believe in angels,” Jim said.
“Fuck you,” the angel said.
Jim opened his mouth to speak, and then he closed it. He did this three times.
“Well, what I meant was, I didn’t used to. Believe in angels.”
“Fuck you, too.”
“What?”
“Fuck who you are, and fuck who you were. I don’t see any difference.”
The road was empty and death came easy. The angel had come out of the trees by the road and
touched him on the shoulder. The touch had not been gentle. Nor had it been unkind. It was the firm
hand of eternity.
“So what happens now?”
“You have to finish the pizza. And the beer. And then I will take you to paradise.”
“I got into Paradise?”
The angel touched him again with the firm hand of eternity.
“So your life was pointless. And pathetic. Don’t worry about it. Paradise is kind of awesome.”
Jim finished the pizza and the beer and the angel ascended and Jim followed.
2
The table was laid out with all the things that Jim loved. There were chicken wings, club sandwiches,
little wieners wrapped in bacon, chili fries, and the nachos were deluxe. There was also whiskey and
beer.
Above the table there was a swing upon which a woman swung. And she was a beautiful woman,
naked and smiling. Jim looked upon her and ate.