Jesus, Super Fetus in The Devil Went Down to Georgia
by Robert Bowen
It was the
kind of night that cliche horror directors dreamed of. Dark and wet like
a freshly extinguished burn victim. The clock on the wall was nearing
11, and Jesus, Super Fetus, Aborted Hero of the Second Coming Detective
Agency had just called it a night. The familiar closing ritual already
in progress. As he finished off the contents of the glass and set it
clumsily next to the bottle that would soon be refilling it, the phone
rang...and with it came a feeling.
Even though the abortion left Jesus’ five major senses stunted and
underdeveloped, his sixth sense sprouted strongly like it was injected
with Miracle Gro. Which it may very well have been, given the restricted
access to safe abortions that gripped the nation in 2022 causing his
mother to try a number of unsuccessful means to bring her unwanted
pregnancy to an early end.
A second ring from the telephone smashed through the propaganda
stirring in his mind. ‘No time for morality messages’ Jesus thought as
he reached the phone, trying hard to ignore the feeling of doom and
gloom that burned in his gut like the burritos he regularly punished
himself with from Sam & Ella’s Lunch Truck.
His hand hung hesitantly over the phone’s receiver, the proverbial
devil on his shoulder winning the argument with its calls for after
hours apathy...but the feeling. He just had to know if he was right. And
As he picked up the phone and placed it to his ear, the eager voice
on the other end stinging with panic didn’t even wait for a greeting of
any kind before it rang out.
“The devil went down to Georgia!!”,
the voiced spat before drawing a deep breath that showed the person it
belonged to was completely out of air. “I repeat, the devil went down to
There it was. The one coded message Jesus had earnestly hoped he’d
never hear after it had been decided on years before. The one whose very
utterance changes everything. The nervous voice desperately spoke
“Jesus, are you there?! I say again, the devil went down to Georgia!”
good eye drifted to the window as a bolt of lightning shot across the
sky like the UFO’s and the truth he knew was out there. The rain slapped
against the window like a wave seeming angry at the shoreline.
“This account’s voicemail box is full.” Jesus robotically replied.
hung up the phone, grabbing up the bottle and tipping it with reckless
abandon towards his glass. The caller’s words echoed in his head, “The
devil went down to Georgia!!” He swallowed hard as the whiskey’s burn
joined the one in his belly.
“Too bad it’s fucking raining,” Jesus said in to the empty room, “I don’t do shit in the rain.”