Page 64 of Lost Souls

“No soul!” I snort.

“Straight to hell!” cries Lyle, the tears rolling down his immaculately sculpted cheeks.

Of course, by this time, Big Louie has had enough. After all, we’re interrupting his business. It’s a workday and time is money. I understand this.

“You two freaks,” he growls, which actually is still quite alarming, despite the higher pitch. “Freeze!” He points his gun at both of us, which isn’t too tricky, as we remain quite huddled.

“No, friend, you freeze,” I reply, quick as a flash. And let’s just say icicles instantly hang from his cute little nose and the guy isn’t going anywhere in a hurry. I don’t do this sort of thing often – hey, I’m basically just a civil servant – but it’s good to have a trick or three up your sleeve. This time, Lyle and I give each other a special high five. “I got that fromBatman Returnsthe video,” I tell him. “Well, he doesn’t ‘return the video’, that’d be pretty damn boring.” There I go again. Me and myapercus.

“Excuse me,” says Noreen Millburn, putting her hand up, which isn’t really necessary but appreciated all the same. “Would somebody please mind explaining? This is my first time in North America.”

Arnie turns to Lyle with an important question. “You’re not… Satan?”

“Afraid not, Arnie,” Lyle giggles, “I do a good Satan though.”

“And a terrific Liza Minnelli!” I add, because I believe in credit where it’s due. “Okay. Denouement time. The ‘lost soul’ scenario – y’know, bad day in the sorting office, baby boom, uh oh, where’s his soul? Oopsy! It’s… well, I kid you not, it’s bullshit.”

“Excuse me?” Arnie gasps. “It’swhat?!”

“Bullshit, Arnie,” explains Noreen. “It’s what bulls—”

“Iknowwhat it is, Noreen.” The poor man looks so bewildered. “Ambrose, I thought you people forgot to give me a soul.”

“As if!” I tell him, with a rather appealing smile. “You’ve had one all the time, kiddo! Not a biggie, granted. But the little dude’s in there somewhere, you silly sleazeball.”

“Yeah?” Arnie points towards Noreen, who has no idea what’s going on. And remember, we’re still in the midst of a perfect storm here. Thunder, lightning, tossing. The works. “Well, what about goody two-souls? Saint Noreen.”

I let Lyle take up the slack, now that he’s managed to dial down the hysterical laughter. “Oh, nutty Noreen here,” he says in that to-die-for voice. “Nutty butbeautifulNoreen, she has got a great big gorgeous soul. Widescreen, Dolby, the full monty, the big kahuna. But trust me, Arnie, it’s still just a single.”

Noreen’s face is a picture. Well, even more of a picture. “Excuse me, Lyle,” she says, again with the raised hand (what is this – third grade?). “But who exactlyareyou?”

“Well… I suppose you could call me –the Ark Angel!” Now he’s laughing so much, he’s got stuff coming out his nose, which only he can make look cool. “I am so sorry, Noreen, I truly apologise, but this guy, this Ambrose, he always makes me crack up. It’s what makes the job bearable. I mean, it’s not like there’s a salary.” He gives her the softest, kindest, most unsatanic smile. “Okay. Truth time. I’m just a simple clerk, Noreen. In the depot. Like Amby here. Logging souls in, logging souls out. In and out. In and out. They don’t call it eternity for nothing.”

“We got bored,” I add. “Hey, we’re only flesh and blood.”

“No, we’re not,” says Lyle. Such a pedant.

Time for backstory. The real one. No more unreliable narrator stuff, which I have to tell you again, in case you feel just a tad duped, is an acknowledged literary device. I got it from Agatha Christie herself. A real lady. You can imagine how thrilledsheis to be with dead people 24/7.

“So, one day,” I explain, “when we were particularly bored—”

“Bored to death,” contributes Lyle.

“Was I expositing?” I chide him. “So, one day – one very tedious day – we decided to set ourselves a challenge.”

“What sort of challenge?” asks Arnie.

Fair question.

“The very hardest ever devised,” I tell him. “To see if we could hook up the two least likely people in the whole entire universe. The vilest, scuzziest, sleaziest, most unedifying man…”

“That’s you, Arnie,” adds Noreen, helpfully.

“And the sweetest, kindest, dearest woman,” says Lyle.

“Ain’t that the truth,” says Arnie, looking over at Noreen with a look I’ve hitherto never seen on his face but always been hoping against hope I just might.

“We simply wanted to see, with all the obstacles and challenges and setbacks we could throw in your way, if you two poles apart could ever fall in love,” I conclude.