Consider my options at the time: The demand for hand-cut small batch snuff just wasn’t as great as any of us thought. So many of us watched our dreams die in that shift in the marketplace. My years as a journeyman cracker salter were adding up to nothing, too, thanks to our poorly organized union. I was broke. My family had disowned me. My car had 4 bald tires and only about another 20 miles left of gas in it. All signs were pointing to one direction: It was time for me to settle down and join a suicide cult.

Honestly, joining a suicide cult was the best decision I ever made. I wasn’t to keen on the “killing yourself” part, but the warmth, sharing, and love I felt from the other members of the cult more than made up for my fears. I considered suicide like Christmas Brussels sprouts: an unpleasant part of an otherwise perfect meal. I figured when it was time to join the Mothership, I’d close my eyes, take a mouthful of cranberry sauce and then chew my sprouts as fast as I could. By sprouts, I mean suicide; it’s a metaphor. Sorry if that’s confusing.

To be fair, we weren’t just a suicide cult. We had to do something to support ourselves until the Ascension, so our leaders, AlArp and SuSu, kept us busy in a number of enterprises. At first, I was put to work as an elevator inspector; they had recently won a contract from the county, but since the county was mostly rural, there were only 6 elevators to inspect. Three days later I was transferred to the web design department. It was a good move, because climbing an elevator shaft in my formal robe, sash and tunic was dangerous and awkward.

I was overwhelmed learning everything I could about animated gifs, blinking text, and all the wonderful fractal and fire-effects plug-ins that Photoshop had to offer. My main job was creating backgrounds for the websites we designed, and I was constantly pressured to make them as busy as possible.

AlArp was good-natured, easygoing, but sometimes forgetful. SuSu, his wife, was nice, but she could get real emotional and flip out over the smallest things. When she first saw the dancing hamster website, she was crushed. She said that we were losing our competitive edge, and that we needed more big ideas.

It wasn’t all pleasant. The web design department was run by Ben and Cyril, who constantly argued.

“Picard would totally kick Kirk’s ass. He wouldn’t be wasting his time chasing alien girls. All business, all ass-kicking.”

“Pu-lease remove your +2 ring of stupidity. Kirk, with one hand tied behind his back.”

“If it’s a ring of stupidity, how can it be ‘+2’? That just doesn’t make sense.”

“It is feudal talking to you. Feudal!”

“Um, futile, Ben. Futile.”

“Men, men, I can’t take it anymore! Your constant bickering is disturbing my meditations! The Mothership will never come now!”

“Sorry, SuSu.”

Every morning the entire cult met in the Chamber of Communication to receive a message from AlArp. The message was followed by 15 minutes of strobelights while SuSu played on the black keys of a Yamaha portable keyboard set to a haunting, airy strings and bells patch. AlArp sang along in the language of Space Angels.

At times it was tough to listen to, I admit. But I was given every assurance that when the Space Angels of the Mothership sang, it would be transcendent. AlArp and SuSu were trying to recreate something they heard in a distant, long-repressed memory.

Ben and Cyril, in one of their rare moments when they got along, bought a Guinea Pig and agreed to take care of him together. They named him Barry, and he thrived while Ben and Cyril got along. That didn’t last long, though.

I happened to walk past Barry’s cage late one night when I heard this low groaning voice: “…bourbon, please, bourbon…” His water bottle was empty, and he looked just awful. I ran and filled his water bottle and brought the tube to his mouth. “Bourbon, dammit. Aw hell, thanks kid. Don’t look so scared; you did good.”

“You can talk!”

“Yeah, kid, so can you. It’s a flippin’ miracle, I tell ya. You know if your jaw goes any more slack a taxi’ll mistake you for the Holland Tunnel. Zing! Seriously, got anything to drink here? I’d kill for a Bourbon on the rocks right about now.”

“I’m sorry. I’ve never met a talking guinea pig before.”

“Yeah, well, me neither. It makes dating tough, I tell ya. I meet a nice girl, we groom each other, eat some pellets. That’s it. Bor-ing. Listen, kid, get me out of here. I’m sick of those two cake eaters.”

I was sickened by Ben and Cyril’s shabby treatment of Barry, and I resolved to do all I could for the guinea pig. I sneaked him into my room. He would sleep all day hidden under my bed while I was at work, then we’d talk and play cards until bed time, then he’d read and do crosswords while I slept.

“I tell ya, kid, it’s a bitch being crepuscular. Did you get me some bourbon?”

“The White Hen only had scotch. But I found some vermouth and maraschino cherries.”

“Looks like I’m drinking Rob Roys for the duration. Swell.”

When Barry got drunk, he sometimes got mean. Most of his rage focused on his negligent owners.

“Let me tell you about those two light in the loafers funnyboys. Christ if they would just shut up with the stupid Kirk this, Spock that, Klingon linguistics. They spent two days arguing about how Lord of the Rings would have ended differently if Frodo had access to an F-16. Two whole days sweating about how modern aviation would change the balance of power in Middle fucking Earth.” His face and paws were pink with cherry juice.

“Barry, I’ve got to sleep now.”

It was on a Saturday morning that I first noticed Carolina. I had just gotten my allowance and was about to get on the minivan to go to the mall. Unfortunately, I had to ride with Ben and Cyril.

“I call shotgun.”

“Ben, no way, man. I get to ride shotgun. You did last Saturday, and Saturday before that.”

“Well, yeah-uh. ‘Cause I called it, Cereal. That’s how it works. Oh my God, Cereal! Cereal! Call the burn unit, man.”

“AlArp, Ben keeps getting to ride shotgun.”

“Shotgun, Cyril? Is that anything like padiddle? You kids know what padiddle is?”

The last one on the van was Carolina. Because of Ben and Cyril’s slug-bug game, I didn’t notice her until we were actually at the Plaza del Lago Shopping Center. I couldn’t even bring myself to say hi.

I spent most of my allowance was spent on liquor for Barry; I had enough left for a pretzel and Mr. Pibb from Hot Sam. I sat in the food court and watched her, in her formal robe, drift from Claire’s Boutique to the Limited to the Orange Julius to two tables away from me. “Hi.”

“Um, hi.”

“You’re in web design?”

“Hey, kid, you see my lighter? Never mind, found it.” Barry’s head popped out from a pile of bedding with a lit cigarette in his mouth.

“You smoke? Where’d you get that?”

“Look, kid, there’s a lot about me you don’t know. Judging by the stupid look on your face we should probably leave it that way. I’m kidding kid you look great. So, what’s up?”

“I met a girl. I’m in love.”

“Kid, that’s great. Nice pins? Big cans? Freaky in the sack? What’s the payoff?”

“I don’t know. I just met her.”

“And you didn’t notice her cans?”

“It was through Ben and Cyril’s youthful exuberance that I was reminded of padiddle, brothers and sisters. We all know what padiddle is, right? We’re always looking for an excuse to kiss our sweeties, and what better excuse than a car with a broken headlight.

“But what will become of padiddle after our Ascension? There will be no broken headlights, because there will be only one Light, an all-encompassing embracing radiance and perfection. And there will be no need to kiss our sweeties, for we will be one with them.

“SuSu, time for a song. ‘Make Haste, oh Glorious Comet’.”

“AlArp?”

“Come in, brother, come in.”

“I need some advice. There’s this girl…”

“See what SuSu got me? It looks like an ordinary mounted fish on a plaque, right? But, you hit this button, and the fish starts moving and sings. I nearly had a heart attack the first time I saw it! And it’s this song about 'take me to the river,' and it’s a fish. Clever."

“Yeah, AlArp, pretty neat…”

“I can’t believe they wrote a whole song just for this toy.”

“Actually, it was a hit for Al Green in ‘74.”

“Al Green? Did he like fish?”

The following week I resolved to say something to Carolina. On Saturday, I followed her from store to store. At Claire’s Boutique I finally approached her.

“Brother Neil, I’m surprised to see you in such a feminine store? Shouldn’t you be shopping for sporting goods?”

“Oh, I, I, wanted to find some place to sublimate my masculinity. I figured…”

“Brother Neil, such self-denial will be much admired on the Mothership.”

“Yeah, yeah, the Mothership. Right. Listen, Carolina, I wanted to…”

“Hoops or pendants? For the Ascension, what do you think?”

“Umm…”

“Oh my God, Bonnie Bell lip gloss! Dr. Pepper!”

“Carolina, I was wondering…"

“Oh God, my best friend Carol Betterman and I we had this stuff and we thought we were so grown up and we got our ears pierced, too but I had to hide it from my mom…”

“Carolina, please, I like to ask you…”

“…and then I left the lip gloss in my jeans and it got run through the laundry and mom’s clothes all smelled like Dr. Pepper. Oh, she was mad!”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Certainly, Brother Neil. Is it about AlArp’s message to us today? I’m thrilled that Ascension Day is approaching.”

“No, Carolina, actually…”

“Is it about the new animated gifs you’re working on? I’m excited to see them.”

“Thanks, but no. Carolina, I wanted to…”

“I can’t decide. Orange Julius or a Hot Sam pretzel? I don’t have enough money for both. Brother Neil…”

“Please, just call me Neil. I was hoping that we…”

“Do you not wish to be my Brother in Space?”

“It’s not that. Actually I’d like…”

“But we shall all be Brothers and Sisters in Space.”

“Sure, sure, but in the meantime, I was wondering if we could go out.”

“To another mall?”

“No, a date.”

“Hey kid, thanks for getting me my magazines.” Barry paced across the pages of Penthouse Forum, reading a line with each pass. “So kid, what happened then with this dame of yours?”

“She got all nervous and stuff. Barry, man, I screwed up with her. What do I do now?”

“Well, first we gotta find a couple of floozies, some flight attendants or something. There’s a bar by the airport.”

“Barry! No floozies.”

“It’ll take your mind off things real quick, kid. I read about flight attendants all the time in this magazine. They’ll make a man out of you.”

“Look, kid, you’ve got to try again. Do you know what she likes?”

“She likes Star Trek.”

“Jesus H. Christ, everybody likes here Star Trek. That’s why you’re all so goofy. That’s a no-go. What else?”

“Well, specifically Deep Space Nine, but I missed a bunch of early episodes, so…”

“I said, what else? Dinner out? Dancing? Movie? Anything?”

“Well, Pretzels from Hot Sam and Orange Julius.”

“Hot Sam? Holy hell. Wow, this broad is all class. I give up. Look at it this way. You’re miserable now; you’ll be miserable with her, sounds like. That’s the best I got.

“Thank you, SuSu, for that beautiful space hymnal. As beautiful as it was, people, I assure you: it is a poor reflection of the true music of the Space Angels. Now, brothers and sisters, I fear that my talk of padiddle and other harmless, youthful transgressions have perhaps inspired some behavior rather contradictory to the principles of the Superself. Since we are one, and such transgressions by the individual are share by the entire group, the only solution is all of us, myself included, to subject ourselves to the cleansing force of the strobelights for the remainder of the morning.”

Things were awkward. Carolina was avoiding me, and other people in the cult were acting strange with me. One after another would cut their conversations short with me and hurry off. Barry said it was because I was the worst loser wuss among loser wusses. Later he insisted he was kidding and assured me that I was “a good kid.”

“It’s like Sunday morning in Utah here all the friggin’ time. No wonder you can’t get get any.”

When AlArp sent me out for an elevator inspection, I was happy just to get out of that place for few hours.

The inspection was routine. Everything was in order, Variances from deck of the elevator to the thresholds of each floor were no more than half an inch. I was invited to have lunch at the restaurant on the first floor with the building supervisor. I was hungry and had spent my allowance already on bourbon and porno magazines for Barry. So I accepted.

The building supervisor asked me if I really wanted to go back to the cult. “You know, you could just go. You have that van. Any attempt to find you would draw unwanted attention to those freaks.”

When I returned, the whole house smelled like almonds. The lights were all out. The doors to the Chamber of Communication were closed, and Susu’s keyboard was playing louder than I ever heard it. Inside the Chamber, I realized what had happened.

“I thought the ascension was next week?”

“Sorry, Neil, but you were hitting on Ben’s girlfriend, so we decided to speed things up a bit.”

“Ben? I thought you and Cyril were… I can’t believe you fuckers ditched me!”

“Yeah. I really want you hanging around on the Mothership pawing at Carolina.”

Cyril croaked, “Ben, I call shotgun.”

“Hell no, Cyril. You can’t call shotgun on the Mothership.”

“I just did, motherfu…” Cyril made a final gurgling sound.

“AlArp, that’s not fair, is it? AlArp?” At the front of the Chamber, AlArp and SuSu were collapsed on the stage. Susu’s keyboard blasted away. The keys for a Csus7 taped down. Ben’s mouth filled with foam as he cursed Cyril’s name. “God damnit Cyril, not fair. AlArp, that’s not fair.”

I turned off the keyboard, and when my ears adjusted to the silence, I heard every croak, groan, sigh and gurgle from the people who were dying around me.

“Carolina, you too?”

“Ben was getting jealous.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were seeing Ben?”

“Oh, I guess I was liking all the attention. But you have to admit, it would be awkward on the Mothership.” Carolina grabbed my hand. “I haven’t much time. May the Superself be with you and guide you to the Mothership.”

“Yeah, well you guys kind of motherfucked me on that one. I mean, really, that’s low. Ditching me, really? I mean, come on…”

“Brother Neil, goodbye.”

With that, her mouth filled with foam. The smell of almonds and Dr. Pepper lip gloss overwhelmed.

“So, this is the one who caused all the storm in your heart, huh, kid? Wow, I can see why. Looks like a real sweetie. So many questions, kid, so few answers.”

“True, Barry.”

“Like, kid, um, how could you not notice those cans? I mean, Jesus, look at them! You can’t miss them, even on a corpse. It’s like they’re still alive. It’s amazing anyone ever made eye contact with this dame.”

“Barry, Stop it!”

“Oh, kid, I’m sorry. I see you’re upset and stuff. Let me get you a drink. Here, kid. Drink this down. Nice and easy.”

“You know what, kid? What you could do?”

“What?”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but, hey man, there she is. Now’s your chance. You know, while she’s still warm?”

“Barry, that’s disgusting.”

“Hey, at least one of you would be happy.”

“Barry!”

“I could leave the room for an hour or so, you know… all right, all right. I can see you’re really upset here, kid. Can I just take a peek?”

“No.”

“OK, then how about we write stuff on their faces? Where’s that Ben at? Cyril? Won’t miss those jackasses. Forgot to feed me for how long?”

“So, what are we going to do?”

“Kid, I don’t know about you, but I’m putting as much distance between me and this place as possible. It’s going to be trouble. Cops, detectives, reporters. I suggest you do the same.”

“Can’t I go with you?”

“Kid, you won’t like it. I’ve decided this whole language thing isn’t doing me any good. Time for me to build a nest, settle down and be a god damned normal guinea pig.”

“But Barry, you’re a miracle: a talking guinea pig.”

“Yeah, well, your friends here could talk, too. Where did it get them?

“Wow, kid. It’s a damn shame. She looked like a sweet kid. What a shame, um… Well, I’m off to score some pussy. Good luck with your life, kid.”

Barry’s cigarette fell out of his mouth as he dropped down to all-fours and shambled out the back door in into the tall grass. I followed him as far as the back yard fence, but he never once turned to look at me.

That was it. I loaded up the minivan with as much stuff as it would hold: computers, guitars, SuSu’s Yamaha keyboard. I pawned it all and drove east.