Jericque

Whatever I could have heard
mattered not, not anymore.
Does it matter, then, that I
now heard a knock at the door?
A man with his hat in hand,
he asked if I had a bed.
"Yes," I answered, "So use it.
But do not think I thee wed."
I didn't know he'd a dog,
but I welcomed the mutt, too.
As he wrapped his arms 'round me,
he said, "Call me Jericque."
"Damn sight better if you do,"
I said, leading him inside.
Jericque took chair to sit.
The dog found corner to hide.
"His name's old Sal Jenkinson,
and mine is Jericque Maggs.
I left my home this morning
but forgot to pack my bags."
So, pouring him some whiskey,
which I kept around the place,
I asked him where he came from.
He'd a blank look on his face.
"Lady, you don't want to know.
Spectacles can't see that far."
Then he glanced down the hallway;
I had left the door ajar.
And in a chivalrous way,
he stood, polite as could be.
He just went and slammed it shut,
took one step closer to me.
He'd shut out the whole world now,
just him, Sal, and me leaving.
I got scared thoughtless as he
started saying crazy things.
"Don't fret now," he said calmly,
"this is just a business chat."
But if we were both talking,
why was I not talking back?
"An attraction's comin' soon,
and you done got chose, as well.
The papers all in order.
You're allowed to live in Hell."
Jericque?! The devil?! God...
"Grim Reaper, actually."
Now I knew why Sal was there...
"Grim Dog," he said cleverly.
"Most people don't accept it,
but you done pretty damn well.
Most people just can't grasp it,
that they're going straight to Hell."
As Jericque grabbed my hand,
he lead me to my basement.
The steps were very dark now;
not a single one seemed lit.
I asked him what I did wrong,
and then I began to cry.
I dropped to my knees, shouting,
"God, why do I got to die?"
As he yanked me down farther,
he scratched my name off a list.
"When will you people realize
that God will never exist?"