One shot dribble. I drop the F bomb several times. Well, it is Rocco.
Well that certainly ilustrates the diversity of the word
The room was pitch black. Had he been drinking again? Stupid question. Of course he had been drinking. Of course he had been at McGinty's with all the guys. Of course it was Wednesday which meant all shots were half price. But where was he now?
Am I in the fuckin' bath again?
Last time he had been in the bath he had woken up face down in a pool of his own vomit. At least he hoped it was his own vomit. He sniffed.
I don't smell vomit.
"Rocco." A deep voice came through the dark
"What? Who's fucking there?" Rocco shielded his eyes by the sudden bright light."Jesus!" He mumbled as the light was still bright in his eyes.
"No, Rocco. It's me, God."
The light dimmed down and in front of him stood a man with a beard and dressed in a white suit. Rocco burst out laughing.
"You – you're not God! Is this some kind of fucking joke? Did Doc put you up to this? Are you one of Connor or Murphy's friends from Ireland?" He pointed a finger accusingly at the man in front of him.
"You don't remember, do you Rocco? Let me give you a hint. Yakavetta."
"Yaka-" Rocco stopped and suddenly everything came back to him. The Russians, the killings, the breast grab and being shot in the chest. Rocco frantically felt his body for any signs that he was still bleeding. He looked down the front of his top and saw no wounds. "How did I end up here?" He looked around at what 'here' was – a vast empty white space with nothing and nobody but him and 'God'.
The man sin front of him hrugged. "You may have been a package boy all your life Rocco, but you proved yourself when you joined Connor and Murphy. I'm sorry I had to take you, but it needed to be done." Rocco stared at him.
"Needed to be done?" He repeated. "If you wanted so desperately to get me up here, why fucking shoot me in the first place, huh? Why couldn't I fucking die in my sleep? Quickly and painless instead of getting one right in the chest. Any idea of how much that hurts."
"So I've been told. But Fate chooses how you die, I just choose when and who. You can meet her later if you want."
"Oh yeah? Is the fucking Easter Bunny up here as well? Is the Tooth Fairy here? 'Cause I tell you what, I lost a tooth when I was seven and I never even got a nickel for it! Nothing!"
"I know. You fell over on your aunt's doorstop and loosened it. You crept downstairs later that night for a chocolate biscuit and when you bit into it, you took your tooth right out."
"It is you!" Rocco exclaimed. "Jesus, Murphy and Connor talk to you all the time but I never – I mean – I went to Sunday school but I never thought that you were real, you know?"
"I know you don't believe in me Rocco. But that doesn't mean I can't welcome you here. Besides, when Connor and Murphy come, they'll be wanting to see you."
"Wait, what? You're knocking them off too? They're on a mission for you, they said you fucking spoke to them!"
"I did, and they listened. They have to take this journey on their own, Rocco, follow in their father's footsteps. You were getting too involved, too close. It was better I took you sooner rather than later."
"You couldn't of taken me in my sleep? Getting shot hurts like a bitch y'know?" Rocco rubbed the spot where he had been shot, still not fully comprehending what was happening.
"S I have been told." God smiled. They both stood in silence for a few seconds.
"So what do I do now for the rest of eternity?" Rocco asked, not going to be happy if he would be stuck in this empty white room forever.
God laughed. "Anything you want, Rocco, this is your heaven."
"Can I have a Guiness?" Rocco didn't hesitate to ask.