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    Blasphemy
    Blasphemy
    Blasphemy
    Ebook126 pages1 hour

    Blasphemy

    By Neil Hartley

    ()

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    About this ebook

    Thomas Tank is a confirmed Atheist, so it comes as a bit of a surprise, to say the least, when God offers him a job.

    The actual job is even more surprising, and it's also looking like it's going to be his last.

    Warning! Not for the devout!

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherNeil Hartley
    Release dateJul 22, 2012
    ISBN9781476419251
    Blasphemy
    Author

    Neil Hartley

    I write fantasy, horror, sci-fi, comedy and now erotica too!Latest releases:The (erotic) Misadventures of Black Alice - Space Pirate Queen! - Naughty sci-fi.The (erotic) Misadventures of an Alien's Slave. - Very naughty sci-fi.The Lord of All. An epic fantasy tale.The Necromancer's Chronicles - The story of a dark Wizard.

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      Book preview

      Blasphemy - Neil Hartley

      Blasphemy

      Neil Hartley

      Copyright N. Hartley.

      Not to be reproduced or redistributed without express permission of the author.

      Chapter 1 - Latte.

      Thomas T. Tank walked down the street with his hands thrust deeply into his pockets. Ignoring the people around him, he kicked at an abandoned can that happened to be lying in his path and watched it bounce off a stone and land in the gutter, not at all where he aimed it.

      Stupid life, he scowled.

      It started to rain.

      Oh, that’s just great. He felt in his shoulder bag for his umbrella, then stopped as he remembered he’d given it to Sam, just before she dumped him.

      "Bitch!" he shouted, to the shock of some old woman who happened to be walking nearby at that moment. She tutted and stalked off, putting up a rather putrid coloured pink umbrella in the process.

      Tom, having no such protection, putrid or otherwise, gritted his teeth. He looked around and spotted a Starbucks on the other side of the street. Checking his pocket to make sure he still had his wallet, the way his luck was going today you never could tell, he dodged the rush hour traffic and made his way to the store.

      Inside was warm and almost deserted, so he was soon seated at a cosy corner table nursing a latte, a hatred towards umbrella stealing ex-girlfriends, and the person who’d invented job interviews.

      The one he’d just attended should have been a shoe-in. He had all the right qualifications and experience. It was just bad luck the interviewer had been such an ass, that’s all. Some people you just hate on sight. Still, he’d needed that job. Since the store he’d worked at had gone bust, times had been hard, and his savings, never great to begin with, were now down to his last cup of coffee, quite literally.

      He took a gulp of said drink and shook his head in despair.

      Life sucks doesn’t it?

      Tom jerked back, slopping precious latté over the side of his mug.

      "Fuck… I mean… Sorry. Where the hell did you come from?"

      The man, who was suddenly sitting in the chair next to him, smiled. He was dressed in an immaculate and extremely expensive looking dark suit, with a perfectly white hanky tucked in the pocket. Tom estimated his age to be about the early fifties, but he was still handsome, in that Sean Connery type of mature man way. Startling blue eyes bored into Tom, piercing, it seemed, into his very soul. A wavy mass of shocking white hair bounced back as he ran manicured fingers through the locks.

      I’m everywhere all the time, the man replied.

      Tom realized he was staring. The man had some kind of… quality to him. He wasn’t anywhere near gay, but if this chap had asked him to bend over and drop his pants, he probably would have. The charisma rolled off him like waves at high tide.

      Sorry, God, the newcomer said, holding out a hand.

      What? Tom managed to look bewildered.

      God, the man said again.

      God?

      Yep. Here’s my card. He slid over a plain white glossy name card.

      Tom picked it up.

      God, he read. Tel: 1. E-mail God@heaven2.com. Heaven2? He looked up and raised an eyebrow.

      Yeah, Heaven was taken. My lawyers are on it.

      Ah. Yes. I see. Very slowly, Tom put the card down.

      So then, God, as he’d introduced himself, leaned on the table, getting latte on his sleeve. I understand you’re in need of a job.

      Maybe, Thomas answered cautiously. He wasn’t sure what to make of this person, but with rent due, and no current way to pay it, he was willing to willing to listen to a seeming madman for a few minutes, just in case.

      Excellent. He picked Tom’s coffee up and took a sip. That’s a good latte, I knew I shouldn’t have allowed the devil to corner the hot beverage market. Anyway, I have a position going, if you’re interested?

      Tom looked at his drink as it was replaced on the table.

      Well… Despite the fact that a strange man had just drunk half of his assets, he hesitated. The fellow was obviously insane, but just as obviously had money. No tramp would ever wear a suit like that.

      Come on it’s not that hard.

      Tom started to reach for his cup, but stopped halfway. No telling where this fellows’ lips had been.

      No offence or anything, he said. "But if you’re… you know, God, surely you can do things without… help?"

      The man, or deity, pulled that sort of grimace/smiley face and sucked his cheeks in. Well, he said. Technically speaking, yes. However, it’s not as easy as you’d think. There are rules.

      "But surely you make the rules?" Tom decided to take the risk, and sipped at his latte again. He raised his eyebrows as he tasted it. The beverage was silky smooth! He took another gulp, more eagerly this time.

      I do, but… Look, it’s hard to explain, even for me. Just take my word for it.

      Reluctantly putting his coffee back on the table, Tom faced God again. Listen, not to sound, you know, offensive or anything, but… I’m an atheist. I don’t even believe in you.

      I know. One reason I chose you.

      Really? Why? I’d have thought your lot would be all too keen to help out.

      Yes, they are, but most of the time they simply fall to their knees and start prattling on about how they’re not worthy and so forth. It gets embarrassing.

      Okay, but first…

      How do you know I’m not some wacko? God raised an eyebrow. Go on then. Ask me to do something. Just not world peace or how women think okay? Some things are beyond even me.

      Very well. Tom looked around, his eyes settling on the window and the rain outside. Make it stop raining.

      Oh, is that all? I thought you’d wish for wealth or sex appeal or something. The weather’s easy.

      Go on then.

      I just did.

      But it’s not… oh. As Tom looked on the rain eased, then stopped, to be replaced by sunlight that filtered down, at first gently, but then more brightly. People in the street looked up at the sky, bewildered by the sudden change.

      "Wow, that is impressive. Especially considering it’s evening." Tom nodded.

      It’s evening? Oh bugger it. I tend to lose track of where I am. God tapped the table, and the sunlight dimmed. The street returned to a more normal level of illumination.

      Well, that seems to be fairly conclusive, Tom said, leaning back and finishing off his suddenly wonderful drink. So, what’s the job and how much does it pay?

      It’s basically a freelance role. You’d work for me whenever I needed something doing in your part of the world. The pay is… heavenly. God looked at him and then shook his head slightly as Tom’s face remained blank. For this one, all you have to do is kill someone.

      "Kill someone? As in… kill?" Tom’s eyes widened.

      Yep, kill. Murder, do in, whack. However you want to call it.

      I can’t kill someone!

      Why not? You lot are always killing each other. It’s no wonder the devils’ winning… Oops. Forget I said that.

      Forget what? asked Tom, scratching his head and trying to remember what he’d been thinking about.

      Look, it’s a simple job. Gun to the head… bam! It’s done, and your rent’s paid, with enough left over to buy that car you’ve been wanting. I’ll even throw in the gun.

      But it’s a sin! Tom

      No it’s not.

      "Yes it is! Thou shalt not

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