69. A pillar of salt

The mood had lightened in the room. I had picked up my notebook again, just as The Motherfucking Supreme Being said, “Please pass the bottle.”

It felt safe to continue. “So your angels went to Sodom to visit Lot. What happened next?”

“I had told them to keep a low profile. Their cover story was that they were students on their spring break, and just looking to rent a room for a few days. Lot was okay with that, so they stayed with him for a few days, ate with him, just hung around. As it turned out, Lot was a bit of an entrepreneur. Along with renting out rooms to out-of-towners once in a while, our friend was also running a … um … house of ill repute.”

“Lot was a pimp?”

“Well, he didn’t like that word, of course. He had some sort of euphemism: ‘Coordinator of Amorous Leisure’, or some such shit. But yeah, he was a pimp. Ran a mostly clean house. In ordinary times, the women who worked for him felt pretty safe. Anyhow, a group of his regulars came in, saw my angels hanging around, and asked Lot how much it would cost to KNOW them.”

I opened my Elvis bible where I had folded down the page. “It says here that in order to save his guests, Lot offered up his two virgin daughters to the strangers instead.”

The Lord of Light rolled his eyes. “He used that same line all the time. ‘These are my virgin daughters. They cost EXTRA.’ Never believe a pimp when he tells you that.”

I closed my bible, motioned for the bottle, and Yahweh refilled my glass. “Noted.”

He continued. “So the clients were quite happy to part with some money and partake of Lot’s ‘daughters’. My angels finally figured out what was going on – not the brightest sticks in the mud – and decided there were truly no righteouses…” (God looked at me defiantly) “…to be found.”

“So just like that? They judged two cities full of people based on the actions of the residents and patrons of a whorehouse?”

“Yeah. They made it sound a little more thorough in their report, but basically that was it. They were, however, grateful that Lot hadn’t sold their asses, so they told him and his wife to come with them as they fled the city. They sent off a message to Lambaste to go ahead with the destruction of the cities.”

I had to hazard a guess. “And Lambaste is the manager of the Department of Pious Anger and Hairpieces?”

Om looked at me like I was an idiot. “That would be ridiculous. Lambaste’s department is Brimstone, Fire, and Table Seasoning.”

I thought for a second. “Table seasoning: Lot’s wife was turned into a pillar of SALT when she looked back, as they fled the city.”

“Lambaste decided to keep this whole event in his bailiwick, instead of involving any other managers.”

“You don’t think that’s a kind of severe punishment for just looking behind her?”

“Actually I think it’s very severe. I told Lambaste that at his next performance review. As a matter of fact, if you live in a town called Sodom, it really makes sense that you might look out behind you from time to time.”

“Please pass the bottle.”