Charles Receives his Pardon

15 November 1996

[Special report from the bureau of the Detroit Noose and Slave Press, the only newspapers with the connections to bring you this story]

HELL – Routinely pardons are slow in being passed down through the hands of the bureaucrats, but in the case of Charles, they certainly outdid themselves. Hands were wrung, feet were dragged, and forms were pigeonholed – for over a century – as Charles, poor Charles, languished as a prisoner. And don’t think that he did his time in one of those easy country-club joints, either. No, Charles found himself holed up in the baddest of them all: hell.

Encountering hell for the first time is a culture shock for nearly everyone, although a few _________ (insert ethnic group that you hate here) I have met here assert that it is very similar to their home country. However, for Charles, a man of high and proper Victorian society, to be cast among the murderers, pickpockets, lechers, gamblers, and common criminals – well, I guess you could say it took a great adaptation. Ah yes, how apt and ironic that Charles was given a chance to test out his own theory of survival!

Hell, much like the downtown of our fair city, is a very hostile and dangerous environment to the uninitiated, a place where the weak don’t stand a chance. And, as misery loves company, it is also a somewhat social place. His fellow inmates kept asking him, "What are you in for?" When he would respond "heresy," everybody would consider him a sissy, laugh, kick sand in his face, and empty his mechanical pencil of all its 5mm leads. Some of the bolder, more ignorant and confused would even mockingly drop apples on his head, which pissed Charles off big-time.

Charles keenly perceived that he wouldn’t make it very far being perceived as a wussy heretic. So he ditched his pocket-protector and tossed aside the empty mechanical pencil in favor of an eye patch, pirate earrings, and a broadsword. Instead of a naturalist aboard the Beagle, as was true, Charles began claiming to be the captain of the pirate ship Rottweiler. Rather than discussing the natural selection of African finches, Charles told instead of all the men he’d made walk the plank and of all the towns he’d robbed and looted, and so on (and you know Charles can go on and on if you’ve ever gone cover-to-cover with the Origin of Species). And thus Charles’ Charmin-like reputation was immediately replaced with an awestruck attitude of fear.

But Charles understood that words must be fortified with deeds if his guise were to work. Up to this point, Charles had remained an upright man, but he now realized that it would only help his ruse to sin, and besides, what else could they do to him? He was already in hell! So Charles began running around with the wickedest sinners in hell, gambling, drinking, taking the lord’s name in vain, and performing other unspeakable acts of immorality.

And strangely, the new Charles discovered that hell actually isn’t all that bad, once you’ve found your niche. Of course, he still isn’t as quite as fond of hell as the pyromaniacs, but he likes it all right. And Charles found that you get used to the overpowering smell of sulphur eventually, and if you are from Buffalo, it will be just like home.

Plus the devil is rarely around, mostly being occupied with tempting the unfallen citizens of Earth. Or at least that’s what they’re told, so as to keep them from becoming Buddhists, vegetarians, fans of the band Marilyn Manson, or something hideous like that. In hell however, the inside scoop has it that the devil has given up on evangelism, finding it much too strenuous for its meager rewards. Actually, he is now pursuing a career as a rock star, opening up for acts like The Soul Catchers, White Zombie, and Debbie Gibson (I am not making this up). Hey, even satan has dreams.

And the weather in hell, Charles found, is unbeatable. He has thrown out all those stuffy Victorian fashions and currently wears a tee shirt and bermuda shorts every day. Gone are the perpetual sniffles which resulted from living in that English air which is composed of 21% oxygen and 79% pea soup.

Then one day – I am not sure which or even which year, for there are no sunrises or sunsets or seasons in hell, only fire – Charles’ appeal was processed. An immaculate archangel descended down into the bowels of hell and proclaimed to Charles that it had been decreed that he was exonerated of all charges of heresy and summoned to heaven to rejoice for eternity among the exalted.

But to the complete surprise and chagrin of the archangel, though, Charles declined the offer. There were a lot of reasons why, too many even to briefly give mention. But to satisfy the angel, Charles lamely cited the fact that hell’s sauna-like atmosphere was much better for his sinuses than the thin, icy air of heaven, so high above the clouds. The agape archangel quickly turned away, disconsolate, and even his shining white robe suddenly became a little bit dingier. We offered the poor guy a drink and invited him to stay and play a few hands of cards, but the archangel said it wasn’t permitted, and blushing profusely, excused himself. He fluttered quickly back up to the firmament, for Charles had refused his pardon.

We laughed, after the angel left, but it was all just as well. I am sure they would have sent him immediately and directly back down to hell again for his latest discovery anyway. See, even in hell, even in his pirate get-up, Charles could never totally abandon his biological research. Already available in hell, and soon to hit the shelves on earth is Charles’ latest and most controversial work yet: The Origin of Species and the Descent of God. Yes, folks, you heard it here first: God came from monkeys too!

– reported by John Johnson, our man in hell.