When Inspiration Fails - Seek Pastors

This next story is something I wrote on a whim. I decided to ask people to come up with ideas for something random to write a short about, and the first person I happened across was my pastor. "Mr. Pastor," I said to my instructor of all things supernatural, "Say something random and spontaneous, and I'll write a story about it."

He paused, thought a while, and replied, "Liquid Ivory Soap."

I admit I wasn't actually expecting that kind of response. But the more I thought about it, the more ideas I came up with. This story is the result - a fable of sorts. Enjoy.

~~~

Clean

Only a few measures of eternity after the world was made, only a few days after the Fall of Man, Satan commanded the demon Tartaegus to find a substitute for forgiveness.

Tartaegus first suggested revenge, a worthy subversion of mercy and love. Unfortunately, to nurture a hatred strong enough for revenge required arduous temptation and tedious lies, and the demon workforce found the typical result unrewarding. Anger and spite was often the only result, and while a victory in its own way, it did not preclude forgiveness.

Tartaegus studied longer, isolating himself to prevent outside influence. Coffee was imbibed, donuts ingested, and time was spent the way demons typically invest their maniacal binges of creativity. Some of the other demons didn’t understand the importance of his work. Why not just prevent forgiveness from happening? Aren’t grudges just as good? But Satan knew, and Tartaegus knew, that very few would hold a grudge forever. After a certain time, a man’s guilt compelled a change of heart, but if they could find something to replace it – something that could be an alternative – then they could keep them deceived even longer.

After many long years, Tartaegus invented pride, a way for mankind to excuse the faults of others by considering themselves superior. Satan was very pleased. Pity came soon after, the twin sister of pride, where thinking poorly of others supplanted thinking highly of oneself.

But in all this, God worked as God does, seeing every brilliant creation of Tartaegus and still providing a way of escape for those who sought it. Tartaegus needed something new. Something God wouldn’t – couldn’t see coming. So he roamed the earth, watching and thinking for five thousand years, until one day he met an alchemist named Louis. Louis was a well-meaning young man, but though remarkably intelligent, he wasn’t too bright. Tartaegus waited until the right moment of weakness and then gave Louis a different sort of formula.

“Two breaths of innocence and one cry of despair – a dash of the tears of salvation. Mix them well,” the demon said to the man, “Or they will suspect our deception. A sprinkle or two of mindless content, and baste it well in the sunshine. Forget not to soak in a sweet day of rest or they’ll tire our efforts to sway them. When that has been done, pour into the cauldron the darling clear white of their dreams. And when everything’s fixed, when everything’s mixed, add two drops of blood to the tincture. The world will see it, and they’ll take it from it you. They’ll use it to wash themselves clean. They’ll feel reborn, like they’ve never done wrong. They’ll look in the mirror and smile.

“Because the world lies, they’ll buy it to use. They’ll say it’s so good, it makes your skin smooth. They’ll make it in gallons, they’ll buy it in bulk, and they’ll buy it again when they’re through.

“And fiend though I am, they’ll outdo even me. They’ll give it a name, and they’ll call it a need.

“Because the world’s cruel, they’ll just call it soap.

Liquid

Ivory

Soap.”