Chapter 7

As they rolled into Portland, Scroat noticed a giant fiberglass statue of Paul Bunyan. Something about it didn't seem quite right.

When they stopped to stretch, Scroat commented "Did you see that Paul Bunyan statue? Something about it seemed funny. I could swear it was watching me."

"That's just an optical illusion. You should know that," Hep said.

"It wasn't like that. I mean, it was really watching me. Seemed familiar for some reason."

"Well, I hope it's not another ghost. We don't have room for any more passengers."

"No shit. Ok, change of topic, where exactly are you taking us? Portland is, you know, a little out of the way if we're heading to Minnesota." Scroat said.

"The Church of Elvis." Hep said.

"The Church of what now?" Jim asked.

"Elvis."

***

The three started up the stairs into the church. At the top, a familiar-looking man with dark hair and gold sunglasses stopped them.

"Elvis, it's good to see you." Hep said.

"Good to see you too Hep. Come on in. Bring your transparent friend too." Elvis nodded towards Scroat. "He's got to stay out here though."

"Aw, fuck you, Elvis." Scroat said. He went back to his bike and lit a cigar while Hep and Jim went in.

As they walked into the church, Jim leaned towards Hep and asked, "Is that, you know, really Elvis?"

"Who else would it be?" Hep replied.

"So Hep, what brings you up here? Something tells me this isn't just a social visit." Elvis said.

***
Scroat waited outside and smoked his cigar. He fumed a little bit about Elvis. There was some bad blood there, going back to when Scroat suggested to Elvis that he start playing regularly in Vegas.

Then he started to think about that statue he saw. Something about it seemed really familiar. Suddenly he realized why.

"It's Jeb! That motherfucker still owes me money!"

Four hundred years ago, Jeb and Scroat spent a drunken evening playing poker. Jeb really should have known better, since he was a god of bad luck, but Scroat was tricky enough to convince him to play several hands of cards.

By the end, Jeb had lost enough that he couldn't actually pay Scroat. Unfortunately, by then Scroat had drunk so much that he passed out before he could demand payment. Jeb split, and swiped Scroat's money while he was at it.

Scroat laughed a bit about Jeb's new look. The last time he'd seen him, he was wearing a snail shell suit. He couldn't wait to catch up with his old friend.

Soon enough, Hep and Jim came out of the church.

"We gotta go back to see Paul Bunyan." Scroat said. "I need to speak with him."

***

When they got to the park where Paul was standing, Scroat wasted no time in getting off his bike and marching up to the statue. He was about as tall as the statue's knee.

"Hey there, you tree-whacking assmuncher. How's it going here in scenic Portland. It's been a while since I've seen ya, shithead." Scroat said.

The statue remained impassive. Hep and Jim glanced at each other.

"Don't play like nobody's home, dick. I know you're in there Jeb. Come out and say hi to an old friend."

"Did that statue just blink?" Jim asked Hep.

"Yep." Hep said.

Scroat was now looking around on the ground. He spotted something, and ran over to pick it up. He returned with a hefty-looking tree branch.

"Jeb, this is going to hurt." Scroat said. Then he swung the branch as hard as he could at the Paul Bunyan statue's shin. It struck with a resounding "CRACK."
"Ow! Fuck! Dammit Scroat, leave me alone." Jeb said.

"Did that statue just ask talk?" Jim asked Hep.

"Yep." Hep said.

Scroat was standing directly in front of the statue now, with the tree branch slung over his shoulder. "I think you owe me some money, Jeb."

"I don't know what you're... OW! Dammit, stop that." Jeb said. Scroat had just hit him in the other shin with the branch.

"I'll stop it when you cough up my sweet moolah, dickweed." For punctuation, Scroat brought the branch down on Jeb's toes.

"Uh, Scroat..." Hep said, but Scroat was too wrapped up in jumping up and down on the statue's other foot to notice Hep talking to him. He was also to busy to notice the gigantic hand rushing to slap him away.

The giant's hand made contact with Scroat's head and sent him flying.

"I told you he has a hard head," Hep told Jim.

Scroat was trying to stand up as the giant started walking towards him and raising it's axe over it's head. He was just able to leap out of the way as the axe made contact with the ground.

"Ha ha! I didn't know you had any fight in you, pussy. I tell you what, why don't you just pay me the money you owe me, and I won't have to keep kicking your ass." Scroat said.

"I don't owe you any money, Scroat. Get lost." Jeb said. The giant swung the axe towards Scroat's head.

Scroat ducked, and bashed the giant's shin again. "Buddy, you owe me plenty of money. You're lucky I'm not charging you some hefty fucking interest on top of it."

The giant reached down and grabbed Scroat. He lifted Scroat up to his face and said, "I don't owe you anything, and you're lucky I don't kill you here and now, little man." Then he let go and Scroat dropped to the ground.

Hep said to Jim, "Fuck. I guess it's time to get involved. Hand me my hammer would you?" Jim struggled to lift the hammer out of the sidecar. It weighed at least 20 pounds, and Jim was a bit out of shape from being a ghost for many, many years.

"Thanks." Hep said as he took the hammer. He made his way over to the giant, who was walking back to his pedestal.

"I happen to know that you do owe Scroat that money, buddy." Hep said. With that, he swung the hammer and hit the giant squarely on the side of the ankle. It tripped up the giant, and he fell.

Scroat was there and jumping up and down on the giant's chest in a matter of seconds. "You donkey-punching son of a whore, I'm gonna fuck you up for that!" Scroat yelled.

The giant tried to get up, but Hep hit his hand and he fell down again. "Friend, it's going to hurt a lot less if you stay there for now." Hep said.

"Ok, ok, no more" Jeb said. He dug in his pocket. "Here's all the cash I have, will that get rid of you for a while?"

"Maybe for a little while. You'd better watch your back, motherfucker." Scroat said. He and Hep started walking back to the bikes. "See?" he said to Hep, "I knew something was funny about that statue."

Hep caught a glimpse of motion out of the corner of his eye, and turned to see a Paul Bunyan statue bearing down on them. Without thinking, he threw his hammer. It hit the giant directly in the nuts, and the statue crumpled to the ground in the fetal position.

"Hey! No fucking funny stuff Jeb. Any more of that and we're going to have to get downright mean!" Scroat yelled. Hep went and recovered his hammer.

They got back on their bikes and rode off as Jeb tried to stand up and limp back to his spot.

Scroat was feeling triumphant, Hep was mildly amused, and Jim was dumbfounded.

On the highway, Jim yelled to Hep, "So, did you guys really just fight a walking, talking Paul Bunyan statue?"

"Well, yes, but really we were fighting a god who was just wearing a Paul Bunyan statue like armor." Hep said.

"A god? You guys just fought a god?" Jim asked.

"Sure."

"You guys aren't just a couple of bikers on a road trip to visit a friend, are you?"

"Nope." Hep said.
***
Hep and Scroat met each other about 500 years ago. As their worshippers moved on to other, newer religions, they had both found themselves essentially out of work. They bumped into each other as they were individually exploring the world, and meeting other laid off gods.

Hep was in the middle of what is now Mexico, drinking with some Aztec deities when a scrawny, foul-mouthed guy staggered into the party asking where he could "lay some fucking waste, if you know what I mean." By the end of the night, they were good buddies, which was a good thing, because the Aztec gods were mean drunks spoiling for a fight.

The next morning, sore from the previous night's brawl, they set off to see if there were any interesting folks further North. So far, Hep had been disappointed because all the old gods seemed so defeated, just because their religions were dead. It seemed to him that having fantastic godly powers and no worshippers to worry about was a good deal. He didn't need to hang around with a bunch of mopey, out of work gods.

Scroat, on the other hand, seemed to be enjoying himself just fine. Hep later learned that Scroat was getting along as he always had, since he'd never really had any worshippers in the first place. As long as there was profanity to be heard, Scroat was a happy camper.

***
That night they stayed at a crummy motel on the east side of Oregon.

"So where are we headed next?" Scroat asked.

"Idaho." Hep said.

"You have to be fucking kidding me. Idaho? We couldn't have gone through Nevada? Shit, I had to put up with waiting for you to get done blowing Elvis, or whatever the fuck you were doing, fight a damn Paul Bunyan statue, and now you're going to make me go through Idaho?

"The least you could do is take us down through Nevada. I need some pussy, and I've even got some cash to get it. Shit, I've got enough cash to even get you some pussy, you ugly jerk. But, no, we're going through Idaho." Scroat turned off the light next to his bed.

"Good night, dickhead." Scroat said, and went to sleep.

"So, uh, who or what exactly are you guys?" Jim asked Hep.

Hep looked at Jim. "We're gods."

"So, what, you guys just run around having a good time drinking, fighting and fucking?"

"Oh no, we ride motorcycles a lot as well." Hep said.
"What about people's prayers and, like, smiting things and, y'know... stuff."

"Jim, you could say we've been out of work for a while. Well, I've been out of work. Scroat is the same as he's always been."

"What do you mean, out of work?" Jim asked.

"Well, it's not like anyone has worshipped me for, oh, one thousand eight hundred and fifty three years, give or take. So, yes, we basically just run around having a good time drinking, fighting and fucking." Hep said.

"And you're ok with this?"

"To be honest, I was pretty pissed off for the first seven hundred and thirty two years. But I've calmed down a bit. There's no need to cry over ancient history."

"I don't know. That seems pretty messed up." Jim said.

"The world is pretty messed up. My problems are tiny in comparision to some of the shit that goes on. Have you heard about that craziness going on in Jerusalem? I'll tell you what, those gods that still have worshippers can keep them, for all I care. I never liked you people all that much anyway. You guys are no end of trouble.

"I have to admit you're kind of funny now and then, though. Good night, Jim."