The Decameron 2.0

Day 1.6 HEA Love - A BOTTLE OF JINN CliffJonesJr

"Sexy story, Seth." Dirk cracked open a beer and killed it in one swallow. He burped the alphabet and then the new national anthem, The Bars and Pipes. "Anyone wanna get brewed up? It'll be super-fun."

"Certainly, dear," Dora-Mae said, reaching for one, her old hands eager for alcohol.

Seth and Coltrane shook their heads together. "We're vegan."

"Hey, me, too!" Dirk pointed out that his cheddar-spinach-chocolate-chip-cookie beer was gluten-free and contained no known animal by-products.

"Well, maybe one..."

A jolt of lightning filled my noggin. I slapped my hand to my forehead. "No! No alcohol! It poisons the spirit of love!" Smacking away the beer cans from the gang's hands, I grabbed Dirk's rucksack of booze and tossed it through the waterfall.

Dirk raised an eyebrow. "Bro, you need to chillax and get crunk."

I pointed my finger at him. "JUDAS!" I bellowed, then scurried over to the waterfall to think.

From behind: "Well, that wasn't very dope."

Dope. Just a word, but it meant so much to me.

Once upon a time—before the Trumpocalypse had begun—I had been a boozehound, a drug fiend, and, yes, even a painted maypole on certain days of the week. But all that had changed when the Holy Spirit had spoken to me in the desert, in the form of a salamander who could recite scripture. It was at Burning Man 2015. I had just finished having my way with a couple SteamPunk girls, when I felt a burning sensation below the belt. I thought perhaps urinating out whatever was lodged in there would help matters. That was when I saw the salamander on the rock. It licked its eyeballs and proceeded to teach me the Truth, and even prophesied the coming apocalypse. Back then, I'd attributed the whole thing to the massive amounts of MDMA and peyote I'd ingested—but later on, when I started noticing the salamander's prophecy coming true...

I sighed. "There's a message with all these stories we're telling, gang," I said, still facing the waterfall.

"Wha—?" Dirk asked. "Speak up!"

"That even when faced with adversity, we can all pull through. We can become stronger, better people, and change this world of ours into something we can all be proud of. A world of love, a world of peace and art. A world without poverty or conflict. A world where the only disagreements over race are on The Amazing Race, courtesy of CBS." Turning to my gang, I asked them: "Are you with me?"

They all nodded.

Dirk came over and apologized. "Totes sorry for being, like, um, well, a Judas, bro. I didn't know alcohol was so bad. Like, I used to kill a few two-fours each Sunday with my dad when I was twelve, so, um, y'know."

"And now you know," I told him, walking him back to the group. "Why don't you tell a story, Dirk."

"Sure, bro! I call it

A BOTTLE OF JINN by CliffJonesJr

"Sorry, it's 9:01."

"Yeah? And what's that supposed to mean?"

"We're closed."

"Closed?" The tipsy-looking woman scowled and furrowed her brow, not believing what she'd heard. "The hell you are. Ring me up!"

Felix lightly closed his eyes and summoned the patience to explain once again: "It is unlawful in the state of Texas to sell liquor after 9:00 p.m."