The beginning
What most religions don't talk about is the place where your soul goes to be judged, after you die, when you did meet the requirements for Heaven or Hell. It's not like anyone came back and talked about it.
You may be surprised to find out that this place is in fact located on Earth. It's not one of those places that is deceased only. Living people do visit. That's how God planned it. Let's make a place where people have one last night to tip the balance of all of their actions. Let's make them interact with the living, but strip them of their memories so they don't end up cheating.
You may ask yourself if you, by any chance, had a drink with God himself. Unfortunately the answer would have to be no. One, He does not drink and two, He usually bartends in this bar called the Last Salvation. It doesn't have a fixed address, but people usually describe it as being "around the corner". Someone once told me Emily goes there on her days off, but I don't know how much you can trust demon gossip.
If you're a mortal, the closest you can get to drinking with divinity is doing shots with Lucifer or grabbing a beer at the bar next to Archangel Michael. Gabriel usually drinks tea or soda. The place is designed in such a way that you can't tell the difference between dead and living. Remember that beautiful girl with those gorgeous eyes you approached that night? You tried a corny pick-up line, she laughed, you sat next to each other, you danced and at the end of the night she said she will meet with you the next day, at the same place and time, but didn't come? Sorry to break it to you, but most likely she was dead. Or she was just visiting town and just wanted to have one special night. What about the drunk guy that sat next to the piano player that Wednesday night when you just wanted to drink your sorrows away? He mesmerized you with his voice and energetic play on the ivory keys, you forgot what was bothering you. He was dead and thanks to you he got into Heaven.
There is one person that can tell the difference. The angels call him an anomaly, the demons call him a cheater. God doesn't mind his existence and Lucifer thinks he's a pain in his ass. The rest of us call him the immortal. Funny enough, he did work there for a while before moving to a new place.
As you can see this is the kind of place where magical things can really happen, even if the place is run by humans. The current management doesn't know about the true purpose. The only one who knew was the first owner, aka me.
I wasn't the religious type. I went to church until my twenties, mostly because my mom made me go. I didn't do bad things, but I wasn't a saint. I was somewhere in the middle.
I still remember the day God approached me for the idea of building this place. I was down on my dumps. No job, no money and almost homeless. I was reading a newspaper, hoping to find a job and He came to me on the street and asked me if I wanted to run a club. At first I thought it was a joke, but I was desperate and I didn't have nothing to lose. He invited me to eat lunch at a dinner. He was paying. He explained everything He wanted to with the place. I made God laugh when I didn't ask for divine proof when accepting his offer.
Time passed and I became the owner of a jazz club called the Royal Yellow Duck.
You may be surprised to find out that this place is in fact located on Earth. It's not one of those places that is deceased only. Living people do visit. That's how God planned it. Let's make a place where people have one last night to tip the balance of all of their actions. Let's make them interact with the living, but strip them of their memories so they don't end up cheating.
You may ask yourself if you, by any chance, had a drink with God himself. Unfortunately the answer would have to be no. One, He does not drink and two, He usually bartends in this bar called the Last Salvation. It doesn't have a fixed address, but people usually describe it as being "around the corner". Someone once told me Emily goes there on her days off, but I don't know how much you can trust demon gossip.
If you're a mortal, the closest you can get to drinking with divinity is doing shots with Lucifer or grabbing a beer at the bar next to Archangel Michael. Gabriel usually drinks tea or soda. The place is designed in such a way that you can't tell the difference between dead and living. Remember that beautiful girl with those gorgeous eyes you approached that night? You tried a corny pick-up line, she laughed, you sat next to each other, you danced and at the end of the night she said she will meet with you the next day, at the same place and time, but didn't come? Sorry to break it to you, but most likely she was dead. Or she was just visiting town and just wanted to have one special night. What about the drunk guy that sat next to the piano player that Wednesday night when you just wanted to drink your sorrows away? He mesmerized you with his voice and energetic play on the ivory keys, you forgot what was bothering you. He was dead and thanks to you he got into Heaven.
There is one person that can tell the difference. The angels call him an anomaly, the demons call him a cheater. God doesn't mind his existence and Lucifer thinks he's a pain in his ass. The rest of us call him the immortal. Funny enough, he did work there for a while before moving to a new place.
As you can see this is the kind of place where magical things can really happen, even if the place is run by humans. The current management doesn't know about the true purpose. The only one who knew was the first owner, aka me.
I wasn't the religious type. I went to church until my twenties, mostly because my mom made me go. I didn't do bad things, but I wasn't a saint. I was somewhere in the middle.
I still remember the day God approached me for the idea of building this place. I was down on my dumps. No job, no money and almost homeless. I was reading a newspaper, hoping to find a job and He came to me on the street and asked me if I wanted to run a club. At first I thought it was a joke, but I was desperate and I didn't have nothing to lose. He invited me to eat lunch at a dinner. He was paying. He explained everything He wanted to with the place. I made God laugh when I didn't ask for divine proof when accepting his offer.
Time passed and I became the owner of a jazz club called the Royal Yellow Duck.
Comments
Post a Comment