The Commission (weekend freewrite)

‘Can I change the three big lies with seven smaller ones, d’you think?’
The man tutted. Ray hated it when other people did that, but since this wasn’t any ordinary man, he wisely decided he could make an exception. I mean, it wasn’t like he wanted to have to do four big lies now, was it?
‘’Fraid not. Awfully sorry about this. We normally have discounts on these things, but… you know, it’s August and all and business is bad enough as it is. Wish I could help you, I really do.’
‘’S alright… I just… could I have a bit of time to, you know, think about them?’
‘Oh sure, sure. Take your time, luv.’

Oh great, he was one of those people who said ‘luv’. Smashing. Really, it was just Ray’s luck.

_source

‘Just fill this out and wait over there. ‘S prolly going to be a little, so you have a bit of time to think things through.’

He smiled and the worst part was, it wasn’t even fake. Who smiled like that anymore? With all their bleedin’ teeth in it? Pearly-whites, like he was trying to prove something. Ray hated him already, but he couldn’t outright show it, could he? No, that might count towards his overall score and he didn’t want any more to pay. Bad enough as it was.

Wish I could help you, I really do… Wanker.

The man at the desk shot him a look and a tight-mouth, which beat the smile by quite a long shot, but probably also meant ‘I can hear you’. Shit. This was probably going on Ray’s file as well. Ray gave one of his most reassuring smiles – not pearly, not in the slightest. His mum said it was the nicotine, but he was convinced it was actually the air-conditioning. I mean, he didn’t use to have yellow teeth when he first moved into the building. That was seven years ago, sure, but you know how it is, they chip away at ya, little by little.
Anyway, didn’t matter. Wasn’t like he was going to die from lung cancer now, was it? Or air conditioning.

Let’s see.
Name. Well, should know that already, shouldn’t they? And he still had to think up some lies. Had to give them something. Suppose they’d know if he lied. I mean, it was what they did, wasn’t it?

‘Mr Young?’

Fuck, that little shit did this on purpose.

Ray held up the form, exasperated. ‘But I haven’t even had time to fill this in...’

‘I’m sorry, sir. But when your time is up, it’s up.’

Yeah well, I could make it your time pretty soon, how about it?

‘But what about the lies?’ Ray hissed, leaving the form on the desk.

‘Right through here, sir.’

‘Next week, our daughter is moving, I am almost ready to admit defeat. I mean honestly, you’d think after fifteen years of living on her own she’d know better, wouldn’t ya? But she doesn’t. I’ve told her time and again, sweetie, if you’re gonna live there, you might as well slap on a price tag on your forehead and get your tits out. Always balks. Always claims I exaggerate, that I –’

The short man stopped suddenly and looked to where Raymond Young was standing.

‘I’m sorry, they told me to come in.’

‘Yes, yes,’ the short man waved a hand. It wasn’t his fault. He tried to seem benevolent. It was just, he wasn’t doing a very good job of it.
Ray knew from the get-go he’d be the hardest sell. The other two women – one with prim white hair and the other… well, it was looking at women like that other that got Ray in trouble with the Commission in the first place.
So, she was out and the second, Ray was fairly certain, was wearing a piece. After brief consideration, he turned back to the short fat man and beamed his most charming smile.
‘You talk to your daughter? That’s...uhm, remarkable.’

It was downright creepy, that’s what it was.

The short fat man who seemed by all accounts to be in charge of the Commission smiled, as if to say ‘well, you’re thick, aren’t you?’ and corrected him. He seemed like the sort of person who loves correcting people.
‘No. I used to tell Janine that. After all, ‘s not my fault she doesn’t listen. Anyway, no, I don’t communicate with my daughter, not since I was… appointed Head of the Commission.’

Yep, there it was. Fairly certain that this appointment included, at least at some point, the demise of the appointee, Ray mumbled an ‘I see’ and sat down on the only available chair.

It was hard. Chairs in Heaven were hard, fancy that. Suppose it was just for hearings, to cramp the sins outta ya.

‘So, Mr… Young, is it?’

‘Well, not anymore.’

The joke had always gone down a treat with the girls in Accounting. Not so much with Mr. Head, who just blinked twice and shook his head a little, as if he was really quite disappointed in Ray.

‘Right, Mr, uhm, Raymond. You are here today because…’

‘Because I’d like to get in, you know, up here instead of down there?’

‘Ah yes, Mr Young, but you were already sent,’ Mrs. Toupee hesitated, ‘down there. It is where you belong. So, why do you feel the Commission should overrule that?’

‘Right. I… I just feel I’d fit in better, up here.’

_source

‘Not in the slightest, Ray. Our data shows you’d do marvelously down there. Go down a treat, as they say. All your friends are there and I’m sure they’d all be positively thrilled to see you again.’

Ray – who very much doubted his friends would be positively anything – took a moment to look at the bombshell. Miss Tits, as he liked to think of her, whose voice had surprised him. He’d expected a sort-of luxurious-sultry tone, like the voices he sometimes phoned up late at night to sing him a lullaby. But she wasn’t like that. Tits was cold, almost… congenital.

Miss Tits cleared her throat. ‘I believe the word you’re thinking of is ‘congenial’ and it doesn’t mean what you think at all.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Ray said, getting up towards her. ‘I hope you won’t write this down, or...’

‘No, it’s quite alright, Mr. Young. What with all your ingenious abuse of Percy out there, we have more than what we need,’ Toupee said, throwing him a cold grin.

‘Right, shall we begin?’ the short-fat-man asked. ‘I believe Percy informed you on the proceedings of your hearing. You must confess to three big lies that you told during your lifetime. If the Commission is content with your confessions, then you may or may not be granted entry into the “up there”. Ready?’

Ray nodded. It was a lie; he wasn’t.

‘Well,’ Ray stuttered. ‘Boiling it all down, I did say one or two big ones, in my life.’

‘Three, Raymond. We need three big ones to consider granting you entry. Please carry on, we do not have all day.’

‘Well, technically, we do,’ Toupee murmured, but the short-fat-man made as if he hadn’t heard.

‘Right, the first one. Here goes.’
But before he could actually say it, he watched as Mrs Toupee’s toupee turned from white to a wispy black. Thinner, probably a lot closer to her actual hair. Strange, though, as it was not only growing on her head, but also on her jaw. And suddenly, it wasn’t Mrs Toupee at all, but Mr. Pew from second grade. Funny that, Ray hadn’t even settled on the first lie. It seemed something else would be choosing for him.

‘Yes, what is it, Young? I haven’t got all day.’

‘How’d you do that?’

‘Do what, Young? Is this another one of your little tricks? I warned both you and that Hedley boy, if I catch you messing around again.’

‘That’s really good, you know? You’re really quite like him. Well, I suppose you know, being who you are.’

Tits looked up absently from a stack of papers. ‘You’re wasting your time, Ray. You are, in fact, talking to Mr. Pew. Deceased 21.05.1983. And I’m sure you know better than I do that he does not enjoy wasting his time much.
‘Right. I’m sorry. Uhm, Mr Pew. I just… I wanted to tell you I lied. About the Carrolls boy. Vic. He didn’t throw your atlas out the window. I did.’

Well, him and Hedley really, but there was no point getting the old boy in trouble with the Commission as well, was it?

‘Actually, Mr Hedley passed earlier this year. Heart attack. 31.01.2019. And there’s not much trouble – he’s already down there. Didn’t even appeal. Frankly, I think he was glad.’

‘Oh. Right.’ Shut up. Focus now. ‘Anyway, Mr. Pew. I was always sorta sorry about that.’

‘Sorta?’

‘Sort of, sir. Sorry. You know, because you had his grandmother pay for the atlas. I felt bad about that, and I always said, if I could ever undo that, I would.’

Mr. Pew seemed to think about this for a second. ‘Thank you, Young.’

_source

‘That wasn’t so bad,’ Ray smiled, but didn’t have much time to gloat, because as soon as Mr Pew turned back into Mrs Toupee, the short fat man started looking… well, sorta like his Josie.

‘Joe...’

‘Don’t ‘Joe’ me.’

‘She’s dead?’ Ray asked, turning toward Miss Tits, who just shrugged.

‘I’m real sorry, Joe.’
‘What is this, Ray?’
‘Guess I gotta tell you something. Remember when I … well, when you thought… shit, this is harder than I thought.’

‘Ray,’ Miss Tits warned.
‘Right, sorry about that. Well, here’s the thing. Joe. Josie, baby. You know how I said, when you were…’
‘Pregnant,’ Miss Tits chimed in.
‘That. When you were pregnant and I said I wasn’t…’
‘Fucking other women?’
‘Yeah, that.’
‘You were.’
‘Yeah.’
‘I know.’
‘I’m sorry. And I was drinking. Most nights when I said I was late at work, I was down the pub. With a girl. Sometimes even two. Hell, Josie, I was at my fucking best. Shit, sorry. Again. Didn’t mean to. Please don’t mind that.’
‘I know. I always knew.’
‘You knew?’
‘Was that…?’
‘It was. What would’ve been the point having a baby with a man like you, Raymond Young?’
And before he could say anything else, she too disappeared and was replace by short-fat-man.

‘So, she came here, too?’ Ray asked, turning toward Tits. He’d grown a real easiness toward her, like they were partners in this. She was the good cop, or something.
‘No,’ Tits said simply. ‘She didn’t try either. Didn’t think she deserved to.’

But Ray was too busy to think about that, about his ex wife and her identity crises. Much like he’d been in life. He was struggling to figure out what the last one would be, sailing through all the mistakes and the little bits he sorta wished he’d done different.

Miss Tits stood up, smoothed her red skirt and smiled. She walked around the desk until she was face-to-face with Ray.
‘What’s this?’ he asked, as he recognized in her face features of his own.
‘What does it look like, Ray?’ she asked, her voice now more… masculine. Rougher. A voice he knew well. Perhaps too well.
‘This a joke?’
‘We don’t joke, Mr Young. The process shows what it shows. If it’s you that stands here, then perhaps you have something you need to admit to yourself.

At that moment, two things happened. At the exact time. One, Raymond Young knew exactly what he was meant to tell himself. Second, he understood how he’d come to be here.

‘This has all been a joke, hasn’t it? You were never going to let me pass. Because I don’t deserve to be up here.’

‘Not a joke, Raymond. Just a welcoming present. Welcome to hell, Mr. Young.’

This is a weekend freewrite based on @mariannewest's 3 prompts (in bold). I hope you enjoy and thank you Marianne! (check her out!!) <3

Thanks for reading,