Summary: A one-off snippet from my Lucifer/Michael mystery murder novel, Doll Parts. This is a snippet meant to reflect on the brutality of the American empire.
AMERICA! The year is 2025 1984 1949. World War II ended on September 2nd, 1945, when Japan signed the peace treaty on the USS Missouri, though if you ask somebody who lived in Hiroshima, they’d tell you the war ended on August 6th, 1945, when a group of intelligent yet amoral bastards decided to make your loved ones a guinea pig experiment. A lot – and let’s be clear, a lot – of people died in that moment, that singular ‘bang’ of wiped off of the face of Planet Earth thanks to the technology of nuclear fission.
“Eighty thousand people, Lucifer.”
Michael begins, his gaze affixed to the massive drive-in screen. At this time, in this place, taking your car and parking it in a lot was a popular way to get some entertainment in. After all, not many people owned a television – just shy of one percent at this point had those adorable, portable screens sitting on a table, a counter, God, imagine it! Screens, flickering right in front of your face, don’t you like technology? Don’t you like it? Don’t you –
“Eighty thousand people were wiped out in an instant.”
Michael, who is the blonde bombshell all aspire for goes on. “It just happened four years ago, but we act like it was a whole lifetime beyond that.”
Silence. Well, sort of. The movie playing on the giant, cloth-covered screen is called Adam’s Rib, a movie depicting a couple who are arguing over the fate of a woman’s soul after it seems like she killed her lover. At the moment, the infamous Morningstar with his lovely gal are posted up on the top of his Alfa Romero, the screen flickering, a scene? With the husband and wife pretending like they aren’t arguing against each other. In that moment of time, Michael is reciting – as I hope you see – facts about World War II, facts Lucifer is long familiar with since he had to grind it out through the Great Depression. He’s not sure why Michael wants to bring it up but he’s at least learned Michael is a talker, and he’s a talker too, so whatever, this movie isn’t the most exciting bullshit to cross his lawn.
“Eighty thousand people.”
Lucifer repeats now. He turns his head toward Michael and nods, places a hand on the blonde’s thigh. Michael makes a face that more or less says ‘what the fuck did we kill so many people for’? Lucifer then shakes his head because the answer – the real answer – is no reason. They died because somebody decided they should. Somebody had fun playing God. Somebody didn’t think about the lives that would be upended because hey, isn’t this cool?
“I know they left shadows after the fact.”
Lucifer goes on. He was the type who hated talking in the middle of a movie or a show or even a good book, but he’s learning Michael will talk, talk, talk, doesn’t matter what reason or why. And anyway, he can get always been suckered into a real good debate, lips curling into the hint of a smirk while his grip upon the blonde’s waist tightens. “Anybody within the immediate zone just got wiped. Ain’t no ifs, ands, or buts, baby. That’s what happens when bastards try to play God.”
Michael makes a face. Hard to see with the dim lighting of the movie, but Lucifer knows it even if he were deaf, blind, and struck silly: a pout. “Luce. . .it’s not a joke. All those people – “
“Yeah, trust me, I fuckin’ know it’s messed up man, but listen. . .these were the same people who thought it was cool enough to use slavery for the economy.”
He says in earnest now, head swiveling to look at Michael in full. The blonde who is the serial killer who is the Barbie understands he’s entered a debate he won’t win, so, he softens up his expression as he clutches Lucifer’s hand. “Not documented, like they should have been. I didn’t mean – “
No problem, Lucifer counters, smiling more as he yanks Michael closer. “No problem at all, sweetheart. I know you’ve seen your own horrors. I ain’t tryna be mean.”
But, and there’s always got to be a but when a mystery is involved, “almost four million people were enslaved by 1860. Just right here, in America. Hell, my grandma ain’t ‘round no more – may God rest her soul – but just so you really get it, she would’ve been one of them if she was born down South.”
(Now, if you could, with your modern day device, pause that moment. Remote out and all. Not that Lucifer gives a fuck if it could be paused because he wasn’t trying to hear it. He had those fleeting moments to be heard and Michael heard it, so, his lips curl into the hint of a smile as he lifts one of the blonde’s hands to his lips).
“Who made you sweet as pie, hm?”
Lucifer goes on now, smooching along tawny knuckles. “Cold as steel but you got yourself a heart of gold.”
Tha-thump, tha-thump. Michael would like to say – something. Will say, something? Doesn’t say anything. He just flusters some, laying down on the hood of the car in offering. Lucifer doesn’t need the offer but he does love it, because he loves Michael, because who else if not Michael? “Aw, don’t get all quiet an’ shy now with me. We’re ‘bout to get married. I literally fucked you in Chinatown. No reason to get demure.”
Shut up, Michael thinks. What he does is he adjusts more on the shiny hood of the Alfa Romero, legs out, cock, hardening. For the time, Michael is wearing what any gal of the era should: a tightly tucked white top that shows off his pecs with a long, pleated skirt, all red. Red, lately, had been his favorite color. “You like when I get demure though, don’t you?”
Yes, Lucifer says with a nod and the hint of a grin. Then, the takedown: he rolls atop Michael, groin to groin. Michael spreads it because he wants to, breathing hard, the heart tha-thumping again because isn’t that what a good woman does?
(In the background, the movie reaches its climax right as Michael is about to, his walls fluttering and clenching around Lucifer, the sound of a gunshot goes off. It turns out that silly comedy-romance ended in suicide. Imagine that: the man, who was trying to prove that the woman was cheating on her husband, got cheated on. By his wife, who decided to defend said woman. Imagine that, the gunshot, right as Lucifer pumps Michael deep with his load and whispers don’t ever let me catch you like that fucking woman in the movie or you’re dead.’)
Real Gods Require Blood 
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