"The New Landlord": short story excerpt

Friday 5/2/25

“There’s not a lot that you don’t already know,” God continued, “but one thing is that the retention of the security deposit is automatic.”

Jesus hadn’t expected this.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“Just that there’s nothing a person can do, or not have done, to get their deposit back.”

Jesus’s confusion grew.

“Explain what is meant by nothing.”

“I mean, the absence of anything.”

“Is this a parable?” Jesus inquired.

“No,” God said. “It’s standard. Not everything is a parable. Some stuff is just business. Life. How it works. The way it goes.”

“What if,” Jesus began searchingly, “when the time comes for a tenant to move out, it’s discovered that the unit is actually in a better condition than when they took possession?”

God was beginning to have doubts about his decision. You can’t be an idealist about anything—which was one of those secrets behind the veil that only he knew—and come out better than when you entered, let alone an idealist about everything. Ship, meet thy torpedo.

He wanted to believe he was making a good choice, but wasn’t sure that was because his faith in his son as the man for the job was well placed or that he had these hopes for himself, and in lieu of certainty took a deep breath instead.

“They don’t expect to get their deposit back unless you make them expect it.”

Jesus remained incredulous.

“No matter what?”

“You know, why don’t I just…”

“No, I get it,” Jesus interjected. “The security deposits are permanent. Coin in coffer.”

“Don’t say it to them like that.”

“It’s cool. We’re on the same page. Now, I know where we stand on pets, but what about emotional support animals? Judgment call?”

“There’s no judgment. This is all just policy. Everything comes down to policy.”

Jesus pondered this statement for what felt like a few seconds, but over the actual course of which several hundred thousand people died and fell from grace.

“Love?”

“Kind of.”