[ WP ] You and any three historical figures dine together

Kurt Vonnegut walks through two, ceiling high, hand carved from red wood doors, and sees two gentlemen seated at a magnificent banquet table. At his first glance he sees two seemingly noble fellows, dressed elegantly, and sitting with their backs straight, sipping red wine from fine crystal glasses. He can ’ t even guess who they are. The invitation said, “ Will you be our welcomed guest for a fabulous dinner with some of history ’ s finest? ” To which Vonnegut ’ s response was mumbled over his breath, “ hell yes, finally. ” 
 
 As he moved closer to the table, he reached, pulling out his seat and noticed the names written on the cards placed before each of the mystery guests. Suddenly, they were no longer a mystery. He let out a loud guttural sigh as he sat down and said, 
 
 “ Well, this is awkward! I thought this was supposed to be dinner with history ’ s finest?! Instead, it ’ s dinner with history ’ s finest bad examples. I don ’ t know how I ’ m going to make the best of this comical situation. This evening is going to at least be an experience, and I ’ m sure that ’ s the most I ’ ll ever be able to say about it. ” 
 
 “ I must ask, who invited you, Christopher Columbus? ”, Vonnegut asked. 
 
 “ And you, Herman Hess, did you find your invitation laying on the street, or did you steal it out of someone ’ s pocket? ” He chuckled. 
 
 “ Where ’ s your invitation? That ’ s my question for you, sir, ” Columbus said raising his arms with profound excitement. 
 
 “ Who invited any of us, ” asked Hess, “ as far as I can tell, we ’ re dead, we ’ ve been dead for a long time, and this is all some kind of death hallucination. If you ’ ll remember, your invitation came through the US postal service and was delivered to your mailbox. Columbus, do you even know what the US postal service is? ” 
 
 “ I imagine they serve postage, ” Columbus said furrowing his eyebrows, baffled. 
 
 “ Well it makes sense that we could be dead, ” Vonnegut interrupted, “ we certainly deserved it. ” 
 
 “ I deserved no such catastrophe as death, and, in fact, I am very much alive, ” Columbus stood up and slammed his hands down on the table, “ who are you two fools anyway? What makes you history ’ s finest? It ’ s clear to me why I am here. ” 
 
 Vonnegut cleared his throat, smirked and said, “ of all people, who have ever lived, señor Columbus, you most certainly rank very close to the top of those who deserved death, and more so, you most likely deserved a miserable, and painful, death. Off the top of my head, only Hitler wins over you. ” 
 
 “ Who is Hitler? ” Columbus demanded. 
 
 He stomped over to Vonnegut, stood over and looked down into his eyes, “ I don ’ t know what I ’ ve done to you. I do not even know who you are. What was your name again? ” 
 
 “ Kurt Vonnegut Jr, at your service. ” 
 
 Columbus scoffed, “ surely, if there ’ s any crime you ’ re convinced that I must have committed, which, to you, justifies my death, were put before a jury, there would not be a single shred of evidence, nor witnesses to present such evidence, and I ’ d remain as free and alive as I am now, standing here in front of you. ” 
 
 “ I ’ m still convinced we ’ re dead, but some things don ’ t make sense, ” Hess said loudly. 
 
 “ Be quiet, Hess, ” Vonnegut said, “ first, we have to settle this issue with Columbus. Somehow, he thinks he ’ s a wonderful fellow. I ’ m going to change that, but first I ’ m going to pour a glass of wine and finish it with some appetizers. You ’ ll get your chance. I ’ ll get to you later, Hess. ” 
 
 Vonnegut pushed Columbus away and adjusted his seat, poured wine, ate cheese and crackers, and spoke nearly inaudibly with his mouth full, “ good fellow, didn ’ t you crucify folks? And didn ’ t you even kill innocent women and children. I ’ m not talking about only a few. Aren ’ t you responsible for hundreds of thousands, if not millions, of deaths? And you did none if it very nicely I might add. There ’ s accounts of you smashing babies against the ground, killing them in front of their mothers. All completely without remorse, from what I remember, your journals give that away. ” 
 
 Columbus scratched his head. He ’ s never thought about the native Americans as human beings before. And no one ever accused him to his face of being a bad man. 
 
 “ What do you mean? Who are you speaking of? The savages. We both know they ’ re not like us, they ’ re not humans, they ’ re animals. You wouldn ’ t be mad at someone for hunting bear, would you? If the savages are in fact humans, they would have accepted our invitation to the eternal kingdom of heaven, with our savior Jesus Christ. We made clear offers of salvation. They had their chance. So my men and I did what we know was right. ” 
 
 Vonnegut laughed hard, spitting cheese and crackers all over the table and nearly fell out of his seat. 
 
 “ There ’ s so much wrong with everything you ’ ve just said that ’ s it ’ s senseless to even continue on with this conversation, yet, I loathe you, so I ’ ll give helping you see things clearly the old college try. Not because I think it will do anyone any good. Although, maybe I can hurt your feelings, and that would be good, but I ’ d settle with merely offending you. ” 
 
 Vonnegut and Columbus stared across the table into each other ’ s eyes, unblinking with their faces pulled tight like the skin of a baseball. 
 
 Vonnegut cleared his throat and continued, “ First, those you refer to as savages are anything but. Yes, they ’ re actually human beings, and they have a rich heritage, minus making your acquaintance, and they also have a sophisticated philosophical and general understanding of things. Not to mention they are usually very kind and loving. I ’ ve seen more compassion and understanding in the eyes of the indigenous than I have in the white man ’ s. And they are very generous, spirited people, but you know that already. It ’ s pointless to mention, but I can ’ t see an ounce of humanity in your eyes. You ’ re vacant, out to lunch, as they say ” 
 
 Columbus crunched his forehead and rolled his eyes, wiggling his finger at Vonnegut, “ go on, is there more? ” 
 
 Meanwhile, Hess wasn ’ t listening to their conversation. He sat in a meditative trance, sipping wine, his lips subtly moving as if he were having a conversation with himself. 
 
 “ Obviously there ’ s more!, “ Vonnegut shouted, “ there ’ s so much more they teach entire classes on the subject. ” 
 
 “ There ’ s entire video documentaries on the horrible Christopher Columbus. People all over the Americas to this day cringe in horror and disgust when they hear your name, ” Vonnegut said. 
 
 Hess suddenly looked up from his trance and said, “ that ’ s not entirely true and you know it Vonnegut. ” 
 
 Vonnegut stopped chewing his bite and looked uneasy, “ If you mean Columbus Day, then phooey, phooey, phooey! ” 
 
 “ Columbus Day? ” asked Columbus. 
 
 “ Oh poor god, let ’ s not give him that. It ’ s better if he not knows. He doesn ’ t deserve it. He has enough ego. ” 
 
 “ What ’ s ego? And what ’ s Columbus Day? Explain this to me! ” Columbus demanded loudly. 
 
 “ Everyone takes a day of work or school and celebrates Columbus Day, but only in the United States. The rest of the world loathes you. ” Hess said, “ and the fact that I ’ m telling you this is because you don ’ t know already. You don ’ t know because you ’ ve died many years before the United States, the US Postal Service, and Columbus Day. You ’ ve died. I died. And Mr. Vonnegut has died. 
 
 Vonnegut stood up and lit a Pall Mall, “ you know, you could be right, we could be dead. In fact that ’ s starting to make a whole lot of sense, but I don ’ t like the way I think you ’ re going to spin it, Hess. This isn ’ t going to be some kind of shamanic experience in which we learn something about ourselves and inner peace or whatever horseshit you ’ ll want to shovel all over this. No, this is a joke. We ’ re being pranked by the almighty asshole in the sky. He ’ s laughing right now. We ’ re celebrity entertainment for the old fool. That ’ s all. Nothing else could explain this. All this food and wine and my stomach is tied in knots so I can ’ t enjoy any of it. This is a joke within a joke, within a joke, and so on. That ’ s all. And so it goes. ” 
 
 Columbus convulsed in fits of laughter, “ Aha, and somebody finally said it! God is an arshole! I knew it and held my tongue the entire time! I like you Vonnegut. ” 
 
 Vonnegut choked, “ you like me? I ’ ve never felt less of myself before in my long miserable life. I didn ’ t think it was possible, but you ’ ve insulted me, greatly, señor. I can ’ t stand this dinner engagement any longer. I bid you two gentlemen fair thee well. ” 
 
 Vonnegut fills his wine glass, grabs a handful of crackers and walks through the red wood doors into a bright, white light. 
 
 Samuel Langhorne Clemens, dressed in a two piece, plaid, cotton pajamas, sits up abruptly in his bed. His hands are clammy and his forehead is beaded with sweat. He reaches under his shirt and sticks his finger in his armpit. It ’ s hot and dripping wet. 
 
 He grabs a rag, takes a deep breath and sighs, “ what an odd dream. ” 
 
 
 

