Jonah’s Big Fish Bender
The story every child remembers. . . He couldn’t have been sober though.
————
“What’s that smell?” mumbled Jonah as one unintelligible word from his desk. He was a madman snorting in his sleep. His foot tapped the floor rapidly. His breathing sped and shallowed. His ears rang. His shaking leg rattled his desk. He scratched the back of his hand fiercely, skipping the white warning dust to an immediate red burn. He didn’t notice until he felt his own blood. Jonah’s hands then twitched. He clenched fists and expanded fingers. Once one faculty was back in his control, some other part of his body moved on its own. He was of one purpose.
Jonah sprang from his office seat to the look out the merchant gate’s window. Foreign merchants queued for customs inspectors’ approval before entering Israel. He squeezed his uncontrollably vibrating leg. Tunnel vision scanned each cart and man until the drug, his long-lost lover, waved telepathically at him. He smiled.
Jonah raced down slippery, uneven, stone spiral stairs. He grunted an apology to a colleague he shocked into the railing.
Once outside, his body sharpened. He stopped breathing. Sounds didn’t quiet, but rather his hearing expanded. Vision confidently cataloged the cluster of importers. He rediscovered the delivery.
Jonah’s jaw hurt. He must’ve been clenching his teeth. He opened wide and wriggled to pop his ears. He slammed his eyes shut, thumbed them into temporary blindness, squeezed the bridge of his nose, and inhaled to suck back snot that wasn’t there. He needed perfect execution. The drug demanded it. It inspired it.
He waited for the merchant’s turn with an inspector. The delay was hell. After tortuous patience, Jonah mustered all his focus to approach nonchalantly. He feared he’d be too slow, but knew he must execute the confiscation perfectly. He overheard inspectors wonder aloud about the smell. Some said mushrooms; others said pungent cheese. He hated their insults of his beloved.
“Joyous Jonah,” smiled one of the inspectors as a hello. “What blesses us to get you out of your shady office?” This was a friendly half joke. Everyone loved Jonah; he was an upright customs’ officer. Jonah loved his job. He was good at it too. He could quickly read and determine which statute required what import duty for merchants with any eclectic mix of wares. His arithmetic for tariffs was always accurate. The job was goldilocks. It was neither too mindless as to bore him nor too meticulously pedantic as to stressfully exhaust him. Jonah owned up to his mistakes. He helped others when they needed it. He had no ruthless ambition to antagonize colleagues. His calm eyes and gentle lips always greeted everyone genuinely. He never lingered awkwardly.
It was Jonah’s curt lack of greeting, lack of eye contact, and intense obsession of this wagon that threw the inspectors off. The one who greeted Jonah cleared his throat to save face.
“Where’s this from?” asked Jonah. He couldn’t care less, but something had to be said. But he also did want to know in some mental compartmentalization. The drug elicits such contradictions. It was convenient that such a question was expected here.
The inspector slowly rifled through papers to answer, and Jonah snatched them with a scowl. He skimmed and flipped, flung papers back at the inspector who caught them in a juggle, and scoffed as if someone unworthy dared to speak to him. Then, he analyzed the merchant. The short man smiled bigly and innocently. He began speaking his name and where he had come from, but Jonah kindly silenced him patronizingly.
“Confiscate,” said Jonah with eyes locked on a chest. The chest was his now. It smiled, giggled, and flirted with him. The sun hit it so beautifully. Its splinters were soft and supple. Its corners were smooth curves.
The merchant protested with references to law, procedure, and paperwork. Inspectors were confused at Jonah’s disregard for protocol. Soldiers shuffled in their armor, unsure of the chain of command. Jonah was a superior to all his present coworkers. His underlings and this thief merchant were correct in the letter of the law, but they were criminals in its spirit.
At the first syllable of an inspector’s verbal objection, Jonah exploded. “You dare question me?! Guards, detain this man now, or I’ll commission you to a real soldier’s work. And, you, Josiah [the interrupting weasel inspector], who do you think you are? You think because we fist bump every morning that you’re my equal? Do as I say now, or I’ll include you as a collaborator in this conspiracy to poison Israel. This is a highly illegal substance. It is extremely dangerous. It plagues 70 times over what God delivered onto the pharaoh. Detain now!”
The workers stood still eyeing each other to see if anyone would object. No one did. This new unhinged Jonah shocked them. Furthermore, Jonah was probably in the right. He usually was. For a man who usually teaches to now threaten. . . it added gravity. All the workers fell into line. The inspectors moved along. The guards grabbed the merchant’s arms.
The merchant wailed. It attracted all other customs lanes’ attention like a mother’s desperate search for her lost child. The guards increased their violence. The merchant thrashed. Guards rotated with his writhe as if dancing. The merchant’s feet flung above his head. He slipped free an arm, stole a sheathed sword from a guard, swung the other guard off him, and sprinted towards Jonah with bloodshot eyes, flared nostrils, and a tragic snarl.
Another guard intercepted and stabbed the rabid merchant through the side. The original two caught up and yanked him backwards onto the ground. Tears of the merchant stared at Jonah.
Jonah held back his own tears. This temporary nemesis was his brother. Misguided, yes, but still one of the drug’s initiated and blessed. Jonah silently praised the man’s tenacity. He prayed for him. He lamented that the holy substance had to witness this. He vowed to honor the drug nobly.
- - -
What Jonah had said and done was true and good. The reasoning requires what some may call logical fallacies or contradictions, but such accusations come only from the uninitiated. Counterarguments are actually non sequiturs to those who know the truth.
Regardless, this narcotic should not be allowed in the homeland. It would be made illegal if the high priest elders knew about it. It was danger incarnate. Majestic fire would rage wild, and Jonah was no Moses to speak to burning bushes.
Powerful may be more accurate. Power can be dangerous. Without even being under the influence, the drug’s simple presence dominates attention. One who has used becomes obsessed with obtaining it, safeguarding it. Holding the drug was cooing a newborn baby. But this is nothing different than any addictive narcotic.
What was different was that it never inspired its addicts to nefarious, immoral, or evil behavior. One may reference the border checkpoint above, but legal semantics can justify such confiscations. The merchant too was not wrong in fighting and dying for it. This is why Jonah understood and respected his fallen brother’s attempt.
Aside from international laws and norms, the issue was clear. Or unclear. But, it was clear to Jonah.
He knew the effect, though he might not be able to articulate it. The simple presence of the drug elevates one’s life. It never throttles. Going to the drug didn’t make you abandon your family. Buying it never justified stealing. Owning it didn’t provoke violence. Jealousy didn’t compel selfishness. Such sins would offend the drug. And all this was before using it!
To get one’s hands on it becomes the only purpose of life. This inspiration unleashes bold righteousness. This is drug was dangerous. Interestingly, his righteousness was part of the danger. And Jonah was in the right.
The danger comes from the paradox: addicts want the drug, and sober people can’t find fault in their methods. If it were zero sum; if Jonah had to lie; if he murdered the merchant; if he sacrificed his reputation; if he felt shame or regret for belittling his inspectors; if Jonah suffered some way; many may find evidence of the drug’s personal and social repercussions. However, this wasn’t the case.
Without yet using, the drug whispers answers to anyone’s questions. It solves every problem. It bulldozes obstacles. It motivates an unambitious customs officer to command authority. Jonah could indeed relegate a guard to front line duty. He should remind inspectors of insubordination. He did accurately speak of the drug’s danger.
This was dangerous because it was good. He gained respect from his coworkers. He taught them hierarchy exists for a reason. The merchant’s outburst proved illicit intentions.
Without yet being high, the narcotic encourages a man to his fullest capabilities. One becomes a legal scholar voracious enough to debate the wisest sages into doubt. It awakens confidence, optimizes words, finds friends, convinces allies, earns money legally, increases productivity, and improves relationships. An instinctual, feral fight or flight adrenaline floods the soul.
Survival of your body depends on touching it. Survival of your psyche depends on perfect ethics. You can sprint faster and longer than thought possible. You optimize time to earn it. The urge clears the addict’s mind of all distraction. All insecurities evaporate. Doubt doesn’t exist.
Vices may be attributed to such a scenario: jealousy, greed, gluttony, or pride. However, when you aren’t hurting others; when you become more of your fullest self; when you make promises and deliver; when people benefit from your acquisition efforts; all while you’re still sober. . . does it matter if vice, virtue, or neither inspired it? Cannot love for a fellow human cause elevate a person as such?
Jonah hadn’t yet relapsed, yet the drug’s presence was enough to promise praise.
Jonah had sworn to forgive the drug and forget himself, but this was impossible. Nothing could wash away the memories such a high. Your own pain becomes pitiful, but you don’t pity yourself for feeling pain before. Lust is replaced with true love. Breath is never labored during sex. The most haggard men equal the beauty of a queen. Debate and discord cease to exist because nothing needs to be argued. One’s worst enemies are reconciled with. Water tastes as sweet as wine. Gruel is worthy of a king’s feast. Crying is happy. Grief is good. Happiness does not fleet. Clanky pots ring sweet music. Conversations are song. One dances on the ceiling. Hands can move the stars. Eternity begins, and it is too short. All lifeforms are mirrors in the hall of consciousness. All life is one, and it is God.
The drug grants every wish. It promises your deepest desires and delivers them. You instantly realize that all you’ve ever wanted you already have and that you don’t actually want anything anymore. Compassion replaces trauma of bad memories. You forgive. You love yourself. You love others. There is no difference. You realize heaven can exist in this life, and you need not toil for it.
It energizes the mind and relaxes the body, or vice versa. One can transition to any combination by simply thinking so. Sleep arrives if you want it. You can control your dreams.
To a sober observer, a user postures like a bloodthirsty warrior but with the tenderest smile of your loving grandparent. Sometimes they dance until collapsing. Sometimes they laugh at themselves for no reason. Sometimes, a user wails that the sober are missing something essential in life. Sometimes they’re intelligible, sometimes not. They don’t walk in straight lines. They approach strangers inappropriately, if not intimidatingly. They philosophize about the most mundane tasks instead of doing them. They convince slaves to rebel, then renege and say slaves are already free. Some cry that the masters are the enslaved. They encourage daughters to pursue love. They question the honor of politicians. They criticize wealth as greed. The insane are brilliant. They’d rather die than fight back.
High mothers stop preferring their children over others. High fathers squander their children’s inheritance. High brothers don’t defend their honor. High sisters lose their sense of shame. High neighbors disturb the peace. High children never grow up.
All this is done feeling virtuous, and when the high expires there is no regret, no shame, no guilt, no hang-xiety. There is only an optimistic sadness that others haven’t joined you in the true meaning of life.
- - -
Compartmentalization, addiction, hypocrisy, or a higher understanding justified Jonah. Peddling this into Israel, a small kingdom surrounded by enemies, would make his home defenseless. Additionally, the deceased merchant’s paperwork stated its origin as Nineveh, a city of the Assyrians who were hostile to Israel. This unquestionably was a chemical attack. Covert or overt, it didn’t matter. The merchant wasn’t to blame. He probably had good intentions; outcomes are still important though.
Jonah had not yet relapsed, but he stole away with two bags of the pleasantly putrid plant. Every 1 or 2 out of a 100 of the uninitiated are lured to the drug. This is how Jonah started on it. Jonah didn’t plan to be selfish with his lover. He worried about unmanaged exposures. . . genuinely. It’s a beast of a drug.
When Jonah and his drug were alone, the drug cursed its own existence. It grieved for the dead merchant. It apologized to Jonah. It cried that it was a bad person. It was Helen of Troy. It was a siren that didn’t want to sing. It was Medusa who could never hide. It was an Adonis seducing chaste women. It was nutrition overeaten, bursting hungry children’s stomachs.
Jonah also cried. He begged the drug to love itself. He dismissed the drug’s outrageous claims. “It’s not you! I know you. You are good. People abuse you. It’s not your fault.”
To convince each other, to honor their fallen merchant brother, and to remain in each other’s presence ethically, they drew up a plan: a holy mission. They’d visit Nineveh to warn the people against abusing the drug, to teach proper ritual, to instill respect, and to set an example. The dead merchant’s paperwork explicitly stated Nineveh. The drug had to be somewhat normalized there. He could get in early to the culture. He could start a business: consulting, cultivation, or even selling (with generous discounts as the drug demands). Win-win for everyone! There’d definitely be more of his beloved there.
The morning of departure, the drug whispered it was scared. It wasn’t ready. Jonah didn’t need to choose whether or not to believe it because he too was scared. Many sober observers fear the drug and the effect it has. Because they don’t know! They’d separate Jonah and his love by force. . . forever. Jonah and the drug were already of like mind: head the opposite direction to the port of Joppa. They’d sail to a less populated land to practice the prophesy. Jonah and the drug applauded themselves. He hugged his two bags and breathed its smell. He still had not relapsed.
Jonah sold his home, sold his possessions, counted his gold, gifted some to loved ones, bought a small sacrifice at the temple, and walked nonstop to Joppa. He hired a whole ship and its crew. He agreed to the price without the customary bargaining so long as they leave immediately. They happily agreed.
Jonah sat below deck. The sea’s swell heaved the boat. It scared Jonah’s drug. It made Jonah vomit. He hadn’t slept since his nonstop walk, yet exhaustion was in his eyes.
The drug recommended they cuddle. They did. It is difficult to cuddle a lover without consummating. They could help each other sleep.
Jonah relapsed.
Correct procedure for ingesting is intricate. One must heat up a bowl or plate to a temperature that cannot be held for more than a second. Then, you add a pinch of the plant. Just a tiny bit. The heat quickly dehydrates the drug, and you must snort it quickly after. The drug sings as it bathes. A user knows its crescendo is consent to enter you. The heat burns, but this sensation becomes orgasmic instantly.
A user remembers his or her first times hearing its shrieks of terror too. If you leave the plant too long in the heat, it wilts to death. If you try to empty it somewhere convenient (after dehydration), evil spirits rape it. They steal its potency from under your nose.
Jonah set the fire. His hands were not his own. His breath was shaky. His open mouth drooled.
The bowl was ready. He removed it from the fire, set the bag on a small table, pinched his lover, and pillow talked assurances before they began.
A yawing wave bounced all the ship’s cargo into the air. The bag spilled! A whole handful of his beloved fell into the hot bowl. It cried. It begged him. It didn’t want to die. It didn’t want to be alone.
Its pleas were unnecessary. Jonah would be with it forever. The scalding metal did not phase him. He grabbed the bowl without a second thought. His other hand fingered his lover through the burn. It sang louder than thunder.
Jonah snorted and collapsed paralyzed, unconscious.
- - -
Jonah woke, flying through complete darkness hitting the walls of the ship. Lightning flashes illuminated the room for a millisecond. He crawled through viscous seawater feeling for his beloved. He called out for it, but it no longer spoke. It left him.
He moaned. He wailed. He bit his arm. It hurt his teeth. He punched his face. He ripped his clothes. Eventually he crawled to the stairs to get above on the deck.
Outside, waves higher than any earthly mountain surrounded the ship. Moses couldn’t petition God for such walls of water. There was no escape. They were in the ocean’s mercy. Or was it just him? He was alone. Water doused his face. Rain choked him.
He yelled for any person. Any other person to hold. No one was to be found. Demonic faces emerged from the mountainous water. They laughed at the feast they’d soon enjoy on Jonah.
Then, shipmates appeared out of nowhere. They teleported to Jonah. They warped behind him. They split into doubles. They flew. They stared at Jonah. They mocked him. They pitied him. They hated him. The ones he wanted ignored him. They cried at something Jonah did to them. They threatened him.
He begged forgiveness for whatever he had done. He didn’t know for what he needed mercy, but he begged nevertheless.
They didn’t care. The flying shipmates soared down, lifted Jonah, and dropped him into the sea.
He started to drown. Sea snakes hyperextended his knuckles. Jellyfish stung his legs. Shrimp stretched his lungs. Snails sucked his eyes. Hell promised eternal relief, and Jonah wanted it.
A giant fish saved him. He could breathe again, but he wasn’t alone. Hell-hounds bit chunks off his body. Harpies scratched him, mocking his prowess. Anguish eliminated all memory of pleasure. He couldn’t hear his thoughts. He didn’t deserve to think.
Mirrors recalled forgotten trauma. Childhood abuse was deserved. He heard his hometown heralding his biggest insecurity to all mankind. They put it in stone. He was Moses, but his mother dropped him in the crocodile Nile instead of laying him in a basket. She didn’t even throw him! Loneliness was his only companion. Love was never real. He was a fool for imagining he deserved it. Failure was his only accomplishment.
Then, the most terrifying came. God, in His glory, stared at him. God didn’t speak. Jonah wasn’t worthy of questions. Besides, God already knew. He knew Jonah was a fraud. He knew he was lying. He knew what Jonah thought even though Jonah couldn’t muster mental words for thought. God knew what Jonah wanted to say, but, still, it was insufficient, stupid, despicable, worthless.
Then, God left. He had given Jonah this eternity to admit, to come clean, to be God’s Jonah. He had given Jonah his chance, and Jonah failed. Jonah failed himself, and God saw.
- - -
Jonah woke. His dry mouth couldn’t speak. His weak arms couldn’t move the chains that shackled him. Where was he? He was still in the ship. But it was more spacious than he remembered. There was a bell. He picked it up, rang it, and passed out.
Sometime later, he awoke to the captain and two men. The captain said, “He’s back. I have never seen a bender as long as yours.”
“Where are we?” asked Jonah.
“Back at the port of Joppa. Here, drink.” He helped Jonah with a cup of water. “You’ve been in and out for three days. You rang that bell a few times, and I thought you were back with us, but nope, you just kept speaking in tongues.”
“We made it?” said Jonah. “How’d we survive?”
The men chuckled. The captain said, “You were the only danger out there. You ran up calling the clear blue sky a giant wave. You didn’t notice us right in front of your face!” With a sarcastic grin, the captain waved his palms in front of Jonah’s face. “Then, you’d freak out randomly. We had to restrain you to keep you from hurting yourself.”
“Where’s my bags?”
“Tossed them overboard. I couldn’t risk. . .”
Jonah stopped listening. His body tensed. Temperature rose. He closed his eyes, feeling that the captain was right to dispose, but he banished that intuition. Voices nagged his head denouncing the captain, wanting retribution.
Jonah interrupted the captain, “Do you have any food?”
The captain’s eyes pointed to a bowl of gruel next to Jonah. Jonah noticed it and groveled it down. It tasted old, but hunger demanded its bite.
“Yeah, he’s back,” said the captain. “You said the craziest things. When you weren’t annoying the crew, you were quite funny. You thought a giant fish ate you! I’m serious, you did! We chained you here next to a big tuna. Its mouth was open, how they always are when dead, and you yelled for hours that it was eating you. Even after we moved it up to the deck, you were still convinced you were eaten.”
Jonah produced an obvious ironic smile. “How else did I amuse you?”
“You were mostly annoying. You kept crying about Nineveh, but you told us you were a Hebrew before we left, which doesn’t make sense. Even the dumbest of my crew know that Israel and Assyria are enemies. I do have to thank you though. Your belligerence, your embarrassment, your soiling yourself, it convinced my crew take it easy on wine even! Who cries for their enemy?! What a loser.” The captain guffawed. “Finish your food and get off my ship.”
- - -
The revelation was clear. He had eloped with the drug instead of publicly honoring it as it deserved. It and God were upset at his selfish excuse. The drug wasn’t to blame; it was testing Jonah too. He had failed by running, but he could still save it. He can save others from his mistakes. He must go to Nineveh.
(. . .there’s also more of it in Nineveh. The merchant got it there. . .)
Jonah wandered the city for three days before finding a compadre of the promising plant. The other indulgers could tell Jonah was a brother by his eyes, by his posture, by his confidence. As mentioned, users aren’t jealous with the plant necessarily. The Ninevites shared with Jonah. This was Jonah’s first test for their worthiness of his prophesy.
Jonah indulged in a reasonable amount. He had to indulge. He had to be in their state of mind to convince them, to empathize, for comradery, for unity of souls.
Jonah didn’t convince them how he thought he would though. He actually scared them straight. He was a ghoul now. His decrepit, repulsive presence sobered up the newest of lightweight users.
While the drug gifts grace to users so that they can find the good in everyone and everything, Jonah somehow canceled that. He exuded abhorrence. He had come to teach generously, but he preached gibberish arrogantly. The words he managed to enunciate best made users feel the worst. His touch grossed them out. They worried about his infecting them. They rediscovered physical pain. They lost their appetite. Love lost to disgust. He shattered their dreams by insulting with pretentious explanations. He ruined their dance. He scared them restless. He reignited debates. He traumatized. His demands for more of the drug made them regret ever trying it once themselves. He killed their high. The worst part was that Jonah didn’t even realize. He thought he was doing good, but he made them doubt the virtue, let alone possibility, of universal love.
The next day, they gave Jonah a small bag (to assure compliance) and exiled him. He begged for an explanation, claiming to be a brother wanting to help. They said that he, Jonah, convinced them to outlaw this drug. They said Jonah proved this was something seriously dangerous, something not for humans, something promising things too good to be true, something of the devil.
Jonah protested that that was the exact opposite of what it is. With moderation, ritual, and practice, all could be in the presence of the one universal God.
They said Jonah said that countless times the day before, but his actions revealed his true intentions. They’d rather die than listen to him peddle that nonsense again.
Jonah begged, and they threatened to kill him if he didn’t leave immediately.
Jonah persisted, so they threatened to take back the free bag of the drug they gave him. Jonah gave up and left.
Jonah left Nineveh and grieved under a shady plant. He dozed off and woke up sunburn because the sun had moved on. He looked at his bag, and worms had devoured the drug.
He yelled to the drug to see if any of it was still with him. He knew it heard, but it didn’t speak. Therefore, Jonah said, “You told me to come to Nineveh. To help, to warn. To teach them. You said they’d join us, but now they have abandoned us.”
The worms spoke to him, “Really babe? You know you can’t lie to me.”
“When have I ever lied?”
The worms wriggled into a kaleidoscope of faces: mocking smiles, frowns, grins, furrowed eyebrows, disappointment. “You only went there when I left you. Helping Nineveh was your excuse to be with me. I don’t like being used.”
“What? We use each other! I can’t believe you’d say that.”
“You wanted universal harmony? No, you just wanted to tame me. You wanted to show ‘the right way’, but you don’t really know me.”
“I followed my heart! I tried to do good. . . for us!”
“You did, babe. Don’t worry. We did good. Nineveh learned. They would’ve listened to you, but you got high instead. So, I made you show them. On the boat I gifted you the fear of God. I showed you eternal damnation. I brought you to hell and revived you. Still, it wasn’t enough for you to know the real me. The truth I showed you wasn’t true enough for you. So, I used you, like you’ve used me. But babe, don’t worry! They learned. They now know what is sacred and what is abuse. They saw the divine, and learned I’m not to be played with. You may have failed My test, but My lesson was gained by your loss. I’ll always love you, but I’m not yours.”
