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other folks were around and I heard them laugh that I knew.”
    ““Folks’?” Ellerbee said.
    “A hotshot accomplice like you says ‘folks’?”
    “Death softens the tongue,” Ladlehaus said, “it kindly’s us.” He barely recognized himself in Ellerbee’s blisters.
    “I’ve aged,” he said.
    “You were aged to begin with,” Ellerbee said.
    “All right,” he said, “let me.” He combed Ladlehaus’s back for a reflection. They were like apes grooming each other.
    “It’s how I got into crime in the first place,” Ladlehaus said, turning around, “not getting the point of jokes, I mean.”
    Ellerbee said, “Don’t squirm. I know what you mean. When you didn’t laugh they thought you were tough. They perceived as character what was only affliction. They hard-guy’d you, they street corner’d and candy stored you. I know what you mean.”
    “They scaffolded my body with switchblades and pieces,” Ladlehaus said.
    “I know what you mean.”
    “They Saturday night special’d me.
    “We can get Ladlehaus,” they’d say. But so tough in their imaginations that at first they wouldn’t risk it.”
    “Trigger-happy. I know what you mean. We can only exchange information. Then what happened?”
    “The usual.”
    “The usual? I didn’t move in your circles. I don’t know what you mean. What was the usual in your circles?”
    “They put me behind steering wheels with my headlamps off and my motor running a half block upwind from the scenes of crimes.”
    “oh yes.”
    “It was progress of a sort, training. Everybody gets better at things, everybody gets the big break.
    Opportunity knocks. I never had a record. Did I tell you? I had no record.”

    “You told me.”
    “I lived to be almost a hundred and died of natural causes-an organic, unbleached death like something brought back from the Health Food Store. And no record.” He looked at his friend, at his cooked face, reduced as ember.
    “You know,” he said, “this is very decent of you, Ellerbee. In your position I’m not sure I wouldn’t harbor a grudge.”
    “It’s too hot to harbor a grudge,” Ellerbee said. It’s ironic,” Ladlehaus said dreamily, “I was an accomplice to your murder and now we’re good pals.”
    “It’s too hot to be good pals,” Ellerbee said, and ran off howling.
    God came to Hell. He was very impressive, Ladlehaus thought. He’d seen Him once before, from a distance-a Being in spotless raiment who sat on a magnificent golden throne. He looked different now.
    He was clean-shaven and stood before Ladlehaus and the others in a carefully tailored summer suit like a pediatrician in a small town, a smart tie mounted at His throat like a dagger. The flawless linen, light in color as an army field cot, made a quiet statement. He was hatless and seemed immensely comfortable and at ease. Ladlehaus couldn’t judge His age.
    “Hi,” God said.
    “I’m the Lord. Hot enough for you?” He asked whimsically and frowned at the forced laughter of the damned.
    “Relax,” He said, “it’s not what you think This isn’t a harrowing of Hell, there’ll be no gleaning or winnowing. I’m God, not Hodge. It’s only an assembly. How you making out? Are there any questions?” God looked around but there were no takers.
    “No?” He continued, “where are My rebels and organizers, My hotshot bizarrerie, all you eggs in one basket curse-God-and- diers? Where are you? You-punks, Beelzebubs, My iambic angels in free fall, what’s doing? There are no free falls, eh? Well, you’re right, and it’s okay if you don’t have questions.
    “The only reason I’m here is for ubiquitous training. I’m Himself Himself and I don’t know how I do it. I don’t even remember making this place. There must have been a need for it because everything fits together and I’ve always been a form- follows-function sort of God, but sometimes even I get confused about the details. Omniscience gives Me eyestrain. I’ll let you