The Final Testament - Volume 11

The Final Testament - Volume 11

Saturday, July 31, 2021

Who will win the battle for fast-food supremacy in Heaven? Will Eazy-E and Carrie Fisher take a bribe?  What will Vicente name his car? Find the answers in this exciting issue of the Epic Short Stories.

The Epic Short Story The Final Testament - Volume 11

Trigger Warning: Epics are not good reading for religious zealots, especially Christians, sexually uptight pricks, or stupid people.

*All books in the Epic Short Story Series contain adult content.

The Epic Short Stories are satirical, sometimes raunchy narratives poking fun at religion, entertainment, and society. Written originally as a concept for animation, the Epics soon developed into tiny fiction installments made available on KDP.

Chapter 1. Mao Zedongs

Cleaning the car before work distracted me from the daunting task of reporting earth and Heaven’s news. Dabbing some wax smudges from the hood stirred thoughts of possible names for the car, which Stephen Hawking claimed needed a name for being so awesome, but nothing seemed to work.

“Hey, Vicente, can we talk to you?” Carrie Fisher’s voice turned my stare from the car to her and Eazy-E walking up the driveway.

I pointed to the car. “Sure. Hey, what do you guys think I should name my car?”

“Do you have a name in mind?” Carrie stared at the car as Eazy walked around the vehicle.

“I considered “Tia” after “Tia Ling,” but that just doesn’t seem to fit the car.”

Carrie and Eazy stared at the vehicle a moment, then Eazy looked up. “I’d think about it. It’s a nice ride and needs a good name.”

I nodded, not understanding him. “What are you two doing?”

Carrie pointed her thumb to Eazy. “We heard you needed help at the newspaper, and we want to be reporters.”

“Oh yeah, what are your qualifications?”

“I am good at getting the scoop on stories, and Eazy is ruthless when it comes to getting the truth.”

Eazy walked around the car. “Fuckin right. Scoop an I go hard for the news.”

“What did he say, Carrie?” I asked in confusion.

Carrie tilted her head at him. “Eazy affirmed my description of our qualifications and said we fight for the truth. Also, call me Scoop.”

I said, “I don’t know. I want to hire you both, but I can’t drive any more reporters in my Camaro. I just don’t have the time.”

Eazy jerked his thumb to a car parked on the street. “Man, don’t be stupid. We cruisin in the six-four. We don’t need your cracker-ass Camaro.”

“What did he say?” I looked at Carrie.

Carrie pointed to the shiny, black, 1964 Chevy Impala. “He said we don’t need your Caucasian Camaro because he has the six-four.”

I stared at the six-four. “God sent me a miracle. Yes! Scoop and Eazy, you’re hired.”

◆◆◆

Scoop and Eazy drove around Heaven looking for a story when they saw construction crew erecting a tall sign, “Mao Zedong’s.” Eazy frowned. “Damn, look at that shit. Can you believe they built another one of those places?”

Scoop replied, “You know that’s like the twentieth place they opened this month.”

Eazy said, “I know, and look over there at the Chicken & Trout. They going out of business.”

Scoop said, “Hey, I smell a story. Let’s talk to the Chicken & Trout owner.”

Eazy pulled into the Chicken & Trout parking lot as a slender, elderly black man locked the front door showing a closed-for-business sign. Exiting the six-four, Carrie and Eazy approached the gentleman with Eazy pointing at the store. “Sir, what the fuck is going on? Why you closin’? I was just here last week, and you had all kinds of business?”

The owner shook his head. “Oh, son, you just don’t know. They opened that Mao’s, and on the second day, all my customers disappeared. Even the loyal ones left me, like Gandhi and all those trout-eaten Hindus.”

As the owner walked away, Scoop turned to Eazy. “Have you eaten at Mao Zedong’s?”

“Nah, I heard that fast food shit was bad for you.”

Scoop pointed down the street. “Maybe we should try it out and see what all the fuss is about?”

“Alright. I hope we don’t sick.” Eazy opened the door to the six-four.

Carrie slid into the passenger seat. “What’s the worst that can happen? You’re already dead.”

“True.” Eazy nodded and drove a short distance and pulled in front of Mao Zedong’s, where the smell of cheap Chinese food coupled with shit made them gag as they exited the car. Carrie's hand covered her nose and mouth. “Yuck! This place smells terrible.”

Eazy waved his hand in front of his face. “Yo! It’s like a motherfucker made shit salad and let it go bad.”

As they entered the restaurant, patrons moved about and conversed at tables, smiling and jamming food into their mouths. Scoop said, “Jesus, these people must have never eaten good food.”

Eazy tapped Scoop’s shoulder, pointing to the restrooms where the awful smell concentrated, and a line of people waited as screams of ecstasy echoed from the stalls, “Oh lord! That’s it! Yes! Jesus, I am splitting apart! It burns so good!”

Eazy pulled Scoop by the hand, saying, “Oh no. We gotta get the fuck outta here.”

Just as they turned to exit, a plump Chinese man stepped in front of them with “Mao Zedong” written on his name tag. “What? You leave without eating? Can’t have that; you need a to have a plate of General Tso’s Chicken.”

“Nah, that’s all right, man. We pass.” Eazy held his hand up.

Mao turned to Carrie. “What did he say?”

Scoop translated, “Nah, that’s all right, man. We pass.”

“No, no! No pass.” Mao screamed at the workers beyond the counter, “Hey, get these people some chicken! Everybody must eat equally no matter the cost! Everyone share in the chicken or be reformed through labor! See, when everyone work for the good of the people, everyone eat!”

Carrie said, “Look, we are reporters from the Final Testament, and something is wrong with your food. What is making these people shit like that and scream?”

“What you mean?”

At that moment, Gandhi ran between Mao and Scoop and Eazy, racing to the bathroom. “Code brown! Make a fucking hole, people!” Within seconds, thunderous flatulence expelled from Gandhi’s body, rushing a thick smell with an aftertaste making Scoop and Eazy gag harder and turn green. Mao smiled and said, “You see. Another satisfied customer.”

“What?” Eazy yelled through his coughing and gagging.

Mao yelled over his shoulder, “Hey Gandhi, you like a the Kung Pau chicken, yes?”

Gandhi’s voice called from the bathroom, “Oh yeah, Mao! Oh Christ, here comes another turd of endless joy!”

“You see! Everybody happy with Mao. Now you reporters, you get special treatment. I give you free lunch for eternity. Just you write me up a nice article. Here have a some General Tso’s Chicken,” said Mao.

“Nah, man, we ain’t down for that corrupt shit,” replied Eazy.

Scoop shook her head. “Yeah, we’re leaving, but we’re going to be investigating your places.”

Mao held out a doggie bag loaded with egg rolls. “I understand. You, please take these egg rolls, please.”

Scoop grabbed the egg rolls, and they headed back to the Final Testament.

◆◆◆

Scoop and Eazy drove around Heaven looking for a story when they saw construction crew erecting a tall sign, “Mao Zedong’s.” Eazy frowned. “Damn, look at that shit. Can you believe they built another one of those places?”

Scoop replied, “You know that’s like the twentieth place they opened this month.”

Eazy said, “I know, and look over there at the Chicken & Trout. They going out of business.”

Scoop said, “Hey, I smell a story. Let’s talk to the Chicken & Trout owner.”

Eazy pulled into the Chicken & Trout parking lot as a slender, elderly black man locked the front door showing a closed-for-business sign. Exiting the six-four, Carrie and Eazy approached the gentleman with Eazy pointing at the store. “Sir, what the fuck is going on? Why you closin’? I was just here last week, and you had all kinds of business?”

The owner shook his head. “Oh, son, you just don’t know. They opened that Mao’s, and on the second day, all my customers disappeared. Even the loyal ones left me, like Gandhi and all those trout-eaten Hindus.”

As the owner walked away, Scoop turned to Eazy. “Have you eaten at Mao Zedong’s?”

“Nah, I heard that fast food shit was bad for you,” Eazy replied.

Scoop pointed down the street. “Maybe we should try it out and see what all the fuss is about?”

“Alright. I hope we don’t sick.” Eazy opened the door to the six-four.

Carrie slid into the passenger seat. “What’s the worst that can happen? You’re already dead.”

“True.” Eazy nodded and drove a short distance and pulled in front of Mao Zedong’s, where the smell of cheap Chinese food coupled with shit made them gag as they exited the car. Carrie's hand covered her nose and mouth. “Yuck! This place smells terrible.”

Eazy waved his hand in front of his face. “Yo! It’s like a motherfucker made shit salad and let it go bad.”

As they entered the restaurant, patrons moved about and conversed at tables, smiling and jamming food into their mouths. Scoop said, “Jesus, these people must have never eaten good food.”

Eazy tapped Scoop’s shoulder, pointing to the restrooms where the awful smell concentrated, and a line of people waited as screams of ecstasy echoed from the stalls, “Oh lord! That’s it! Yes! Jesus, I am splitting apart in the ass! Fire in my hole, motherfuckers!”

Eazy pulled Scoop by the hand, saying, “Oh no. We gotta get the fuck outta here.”

Just as they turned to exit, a plump Chinese man stepped in front of them with “Mao Zedong” written on his name tag. “What? You leave without eating? Can’t have that; you need a to have a plate of General Tso’s Chicken.”

“Nah, that’s all right, man. We pass.” Eazy held his hand up.

Mao turned to Carrie. “What did he say?”

Scoop translated, “Nah, that’s all right, man. We pass.”

“No, no! No pass.” Mao screamed at the workers beyond the counter, “Hey, get these people some chicken! Everybody must eat equally no matter the cost! Everyone share in the chicken or be reformed through labor! See, when everyone work for the good of the people, everyone eat!”

Carrie said, “Look, we are reporters from the Final Testament, and something is wrong with your food. What is making these people shit like that and scream?”

“What you mean?”

At that moment, Gandhi ran between Mao and Scoop and Eazy, racing to the bathroom. “Code brown! Make a fucking hole, people!”

Gandhi raced into the bathroom, and in the next moment, thunderous flatulence expelled from his body, rushing a thick smell with an aftertaste making Scoop and Eazy gag harder and turn green. Mao smiled and said, “You see. Another satisfied customer.”

“What?” Eazy yelled through his coughing and gagging.

Mao yelled over his shoulder, “Hey Gandhi, you like a the Kung Pau chicken, yes?”

“Oh yeah, Mao! Oh Christ, here comes another turd of endless joy!”

“You see! Everybody happy with Mao. Now you reporters, you get special treatment. I give you free lunch for eternity. Just you write me up a nice article. Here have a some General Tso’s Chicken,” said Mao.

“Nah, man, we ain’t down for that corrupt shit,” replied Eazy.

Scoop shook her head. “Yeah, we’re leaving, but we’re going to be investigating your places.”

Mao held out a doggie bag loaded with egg rolls. “I understand. You, please take these egg rolls, please.”

Scoop grabbed the egg rolls, and they headed back to the Final Testament.

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