“Well, since no one is answering my prayers…”
Otis stood before the Peace Fountain in Manhattan. He looked over the sculpture; it really was a beautiful piece of work. If there was one thing mortals had going for them, it was art. He always found himself to be a supporter of the humanities and human expression in the form of creation, as opposed to the alternative – and seemingly favorite option – destruction.
When he first arrived to Earth by order of Satan, Otis was better known as Botis, an Earl of Hell. He was powerful, could see all things past and present, and carried the ability to reconcile friends and foes. At the start of the First War between Sumer and Elam, he was dispatched to watch over the destruction and chaos and death to ensure mankind would not eliminate themselves before Christ even showed up, no less before the Second Coming. He existed before time, after time, and in time. Botis didn’t alter fates, but sometimes found himself tipping the scales every once in a while when things got hairy, only to make them hairier. When Satan expressed his desire to have Nero, Botis took it upon himself to cause the eruption of Vesuvius in an attempt to take out the ruler, who happened to be on vacation in the neighboring city of Baiae at the time. Hell wanted him, and Botis felt it a civic duty to Hell to get him. Instead of taking down Nero however, Botis botched his job and took out thousands of lives – innocent and sinners alike. He acknowledged his failings, albeit without remorse as a demon would be, and Botis opted to sit back and wait for Karma to find Nero – and she did, when he committed suicide after being found guilty during his trials.
Botis often found himself getting messy in earthly situations despite his power in Hell, and he spent millenia trying to hone his force. Eventually, he took a passive approach to the chaos, to the time, and settled in as a civilian. He altered his appearances to maintain inconspicuousness, but never lost his gap teeth. As a viper in his true form, Botis found himself in the shape of a human with odd hair or hats to mask his horns, and always those damn gap teeth. It wasn’t as big of a deal prior to modern cosmetic dentistry, but recently he found himself overly conscious of his physical standing-out. As a touch, his scales often hid under his clothes. It’s not that he couldn’t become the full form of man, but he didn’t want to lose himself completely.
Botis peered up again at the peace fountain. Saint John got to reside amongst all the soft-looking woodland animals. Satan was portrayed as a creepy head underneath the fountain with crab claws. Why do we always get put with the shellfish? Bears are almost always mean; why don’t we get bears? He read the plaque, “‘…dedicated to the children of the Earth…’They don’t care anymore.” His eyes continued upwards again to the figure on the top. “Saint John was never that buff.”
Botis fingered around in his pants pocket only to find a hole and, on the other side, his scaly leg.
He promptly switched sides to the other pocket as his chest cavity tightened a little. He thought to himself how he used to laugh at the idea of fear, and how he’s been on this planet way too long. Suddenly he found what he was looking for. “Thank, Satan.” Botis pulled a coin out of his pocket that originated in Lydia. It was one of the oldest known coins in the world, and he was going to use it as a direct line to talk to one of his colleagues. He turned his back, recited an incantation in Aramaic, and flipped the coin over his right shoulder into the fountain.
A shadow was cast over the fountain of Saint John and Botis. Both began to float in space and time, a familiar ground for the demon. He saw flashes of stars and clouds and began to feel the familiar burning of his home; how he missed the fires of Hell. Space and time stopped as he shed his tattered jeans and acid punk look to reveal his true form. He came to a stop at the gates, and as they opened Botis was greeted by a less than welcoming face.
“How many of those forsaken coins do you have left? For the love of Baal…” Malik stood threateningly between the entrance of Hell and Botis. He looked down at him, tired of seeing his face so regularly over the past hundred years.
“What do you want, Botis? Or should I say, Otis?” He chuckled and it roared through the entrance of the Great Hall to the underworld.
Botis tightened his tail in a knot behind him to control his anger, “I need to get out of Earth. I need to talk to someone. No one will let me talk to Satan but, fuck, I gotta get away. I’ll even talk to Belphegor at this rate.” The angel of Hell merely scoffed at the demon’s urgent request, then sighed.
“You know why you’re there, Botis. You need to do something in your job description. Why don’t you actually use your powers? What? Afraid of causing another Vesuvius?” Botis’ eyes narrowed, and Malik took it as a cue to continue badgering him. “You oversaw the times of war and times of peace. You’re supposed to know past and future. You need to prove yourself again. Look, I’m not letting you in, because I know I won’t get you back out and I don’t feel like doing a demon hunt on your tail. Go back, figure it out.” At that point, Malik almost pitied him. Botis,, obviously defeated, turned to slither back into time and space. He knew he wouldn’t get past an angel of Hell such as Malik. As he reached the edge of space and time he paused and coiled his head around to sneer at Malik once more. “You know, Malik, you’re not even mentioned in the Bible.”
There was a flash of light and Botis was once again standing in Manhattan before the peace fountain. Although still cold for New York, the season was attempting to roll over into Spring. He pulled at the lapels of his winter coat and cursed the snow that lingered under the fountain. Botis had to think of something, and it had to be good.
He strolled past one of the president’s office buildings, Secret Service lingering among the bustling public. It was always easy to pick them out; they were overly alert. One thing Botis liked about Manhattan was that the public – locals – didn’t give a shit about anyone or anything except where they were going and how they were going to get there. He could always pick them out, because they more often than not were equipped with backpacks and headphones. They kept their heads down, hands in their pockets, and they marched along all on little personal missions. He smiled and thought how adorably flawed they were. Sometimes, Botis found himself reading their minds as they trudged past him. More often than not, they were thinking of exploration, being loved, or how to make a difference. Sure, he’d come across the occasional serial killer, but it was Earth – the melting pot of weird minds. Botis felt bad for the humans if he thought long enough about how they were all gonna die anyway, so why try to make a difference? He could see time and space. He knew past and future. They, however, only had the day in front of them – if they were lucky.
When Botis arrived back to his apartment in the Bowery it was already night. Sure, he could have teleported himself home, but he often enjoyed the two-hour walk – reading people, blending in. He certainly didn’t miss being picked out of a crowd in Hell. Generally that meant trouble. When Botis caused Vesuvius, he got it from both sides and was grateful to be on Earth with the lava when it all happened; he threw off a lot of fates for one person that he failed to kill. Death, Karma – Heaven and Hell – all wanted a piece of him.
“Alright, now, you’re the demon. You’re the viper. You know past and present. You can bring together enemies and friends. In fact, you’ve got plenty of friends… you’ve got plenty of enemies too but hey, balance.” Botis stroked his viper chin while his cat, Gilgamesh, chuffed quietly for attention as he rubbed his face against Botis’ scales. Botis looked down fondly at Gilgamesh, the slayer of monsters and builder of walls, “I’ve gone soft, haven’t I?”
He sat down and turned on the news. Tension. Fear. A terrible president. All the ingredients for an all-out nuclear war sat before him at the click of a remote. Of course, he lost the remote – most likely stolen by Gilgamesh – so he flicked his finger back and forth, looking for inspiration. Well, I can’t kill anyone again; they’re doing well enough already. He concluded that night that something outrageous was to be done. Some M. Night Shyamalan, plot twist ending to get him the fuck off Earth; he was ready to telecommute his work of the mortals, and had been for at least he last two millennia. Suddenly, it hit him, the seer, the reconciler.
Tensions around the world continued to boil and bubble as weeks went on, and Botis waited for his time to come. He scavenged his apartment for another Lydian coin and packed in preparation to escape the planet.
He looked down to his friend at his feet, “Gilgamesh, I hope you’re ready.” The killer of monsters and builder of walls let out a soft, “mew,” and sat in one of Botis’ empty boxes. “Alright, good.”
One April morning, Botis watched the sun come up, red and deep. It reminded him of home. Botis was ready to teleport himself to the Peace Fountain and stare Saint John in his beautiful face one last time. He clutched the coin again in his pocket to make sure he didn’t put it in the one that had a hole in it. Once the sun hit noon, Botis calmly placed his apartment keys on the kitchen counter, gathered Gilgamesh, and a small box of things that he collected over the years. He thought to himself how he would miss Earth, maybe, but the time had come. He watched in the bathroom mirror as his viper face took human form for the last time in order to get him out of his apartment building and onto the street. As he opened the door, ready to depart, his neighbor stopped him in a panic.
“Otis! Hey, man. Taking your cat to the vet? Did you see what’s happening right now?” Botis stopped. He smiled a gap tooth smile at his neighbor. He knew he was getting out of Earth.
“No, tell me.” His viper eyes lowered cooly.
“North Korea and South Korea signed a peace treaty today! How crazy is that?”