There's not a single atheist in hell

Saturday night, Archie and I hit Metrowalk for a nightcap around midnight, a bit tired already from a quiet drinking session out of town, but still game enough to meet some friends. It suddenly occurred to us, that thing we've been missing the most part of our lives, partying the night away with REALLY HOT CHICKS. Pardon the all-caps and the chauvinism, but that's the only way I can do justice to the state of shock we both found ourselves stupefied in. Right from the parking lot till we decided to call it quits, they were everywhere... young, lithe creatures, made-up and dressed down. I could barely keep my cigarette between my lips as my jaw kept dropping down to the floor, along with my boxers.

I wondered if somewhere we hit a tree and died, and went to heaven? I'm sure Archie will agree: There are no atheists in a war, as well as when surrounded by such wonderful urban nymphs, you'd be praying to all the gods for such a night to never end.

Sometimes, ONLY at some times (ahem), I wonder why I don't get to hang out with more of these creatures. The possibility that they may be shallow, materialistic, dumb even, are there, granted, but they sure are gosh darn nice to look at. Better yet, you can dumb yourself down with beer and yak out gibberish and reduce yourself to a friggin' moron, but sure enough they won't mind, and Einstein, Leonardo and Newton sitting on their own there on the other table will be drooling with envy that you're with these creatures and they're not. There's a time for everything, for brilliant conversations, faith, epiphanies and recollection, I'll be damned if there's not a minute for the shallow, sensuous and indulgent!

We drank our beers, wishing we were at the next table, or the next, or any of the other tables for that matter, sipping scotch instead and getting our game on with "them". "They" knew we were looking, and let us, evil and manipulating, amused and taking pleasure from our frustration. What would James Bond have done? Or Vinnie Chase? Not sit here alone with this guy, for sure. Ahh, but they're fictional heroes, and us, real losers, so stick together we did. Crap. Suddenly, I realized that we might have hit a tree somewhere, died and went to this hell. There are no atheists in a war, nor in hell.

*****

Vinnie Chase and James Bond sat at the same table, surrounded by urban nymphs, scantily dressed, made up and wearing contact lenses of every color imaginable, with margaritas in hand ready to kill of what few brain cells they had left. Both men were laughing, more out of pity than amusement at what these creatures had to say. This happens on a daily basis, a curse of some sort, perhaps. Suddenly, like little lemmings, all the girls stood up to go to the washroom, Vinnie and James were alone at last for a more intelligible conversation. They eye the two men sitting on the table opposite them, having beers over conversations about life, hopes and dreams.

"Look at those two, Vin. Buddies, enjoying the special bond between men, brothers in arms." said James, as the waiter hands him his martini, shaken, not stirred.

"I know, been there for hours. Bros before hos, eh?" as Vinnie tweets his 5 minute update for his fans.

"This life of ours, shallow and full of earthly pleasures. Devoid of passion and character."

"I know what you mean, bro." answers Vinnie, ready for another tweet while pouring yet another shot of tequila.

"Don't you sometimes wish there was something more to our lives than beautiful women, money and fast cars?" They both take a look at the two other men, considering what bond they have, what they've been through. How they are closer to finding the meaning to their lives.

The girls were walking en masse back to the table now. As they took their places, surrounding the two men, Vinnie raises his shotglass against James' martini, "Sure glad we ain't those two losers!" as both men laughed their toasts, after which they took a couple of girls into each arm and relished their godhood.