Free The Dangerous Kind & Other Stories by Robert Chazz Chute

morning by a bunch of angry congregants. They hadn’t appreciated the nuances of his drunken speech against religion.
    Rev. Ted had been dead for years now, but people all the way to Bangor still talked about the Sunday the crazy reverend went off his nut. Marcus felt he owed the old minister something. Though his tirade had been lost on most of the congregation, Marcus counted that as the beginning of his journey away from a guilty conscience. Rev. Ted had woken him from the slavery of his born again sleep. Ted had gotten drunk on communion wine and, with slurred words, convinced Marcus to become an atheist, free to be dead forever.
    “I’ll get to our sponsors, Hankerson’s Car Wash and Chigley’s Roofing, in just a moment. By the way, the views of your humble radio host are exactly the same as our noble sponsors ’cause they know I’m only laying the beautiful truth on you!” 
    For the first time since he spun jazz records for the one to five shift in college, Marcus was having fun at his job. Of course, the check tucked safely into his breast pocket had really kicked him into high gear. He’d use the money to get a tent and some supplies for the summer ahead. No need to touch the principle. A million dollars freed a guy up and knocked the shit off your boots. He’d leave Poeticule Bay and this lousy job in a blaze of glory.
    “You know the beauty of these heavies I’m laying on you, brothers and sisters? The beauty is, you too can be godless and free. You don’t have to feel guilty anymore. Say your child is dying. Guess what? It’s a bad genetic bounce in a random universe. There’s no one to plead your case to. If God’s too busy to save your child from a horrible disease without you having to beg, what kind of monster is your god, anyway? I’d save your child in a heartbeat if I was omnipotent and I’m just a simple know-nothing guy about to be unemployed. Think about that! If your God has less compassion than I do, what are you worshipping? You’d be better off praying to me and begging for my help and forgiveness and sending me lots of moolah! How about it folks? I can always use more. Maybe I’ll pull a Pope and use the cash you send me to fill up my basement with fine antique works of art the world will never see! Sure, I could use it to feed the poor, but unlike what religion does, I’m not going to lie to you.”
    The board’s red lights blinked at him. “Our lines are jammed. Everyone wants to talk to their new God, the inimitable me, but you can call me Marcus!” He added brightly, “Marcus in the Morning!”
    “This is James Chigley of Chigley Roofing,” an angry voice came over his headphones. “I was just having breakfast and heard your show and I think I might just toss my cookies—”
    “No need to thank me, James. Enjoy your meal. I bless you for making this show possible.”
    “I don’t—”
    “—know what you did before I came into your life? In the old days, before me, you could beat your wife and feel terrible about it all the way to church where your priest said it was okay.”
    “Hey! I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not even Catholic!”
    “Never mind that. Ask your wife’s forgiveness. That, my friend, is the way to heaven right here on earth. Right here, right now.”
    Marcus leaned back and looked through the glass door of his booth. His boss’s door was still closed, so he was sure Clarence Donegal was still enjoying his morning nap. His boss made a great show of being the first of the day staff to arrive in the morning and the last to leave at night. Mostly Donegal napped and ate chicken from the restaurant next door. On summer afternoons Donegal went out with advertisers on the golf course. He slept with his door closed and played golf under the guise of “making sales calls.” Donegal told everyone he was the hardest working station manager in the business because his car was in the parking lot the longest of any employee at the radio