Little Schmo

The little schmo looked up at the burning sky and cried: 

“I need food!  I need water!”

Again and again he said it to the relentless sky, until his thin legs folded beneath him. 


High above – above the layer of burning blue and the copper sun’s lidless eye – a young god lay snoozing amongst other gods.  He twitched as something like the buzz of a fly touched his prone mind: then he woke and heard a whisper: 

“I need food…”.

Stretching his well-fed limbs, the god sat up and poked the god snoring beside him.

“Oi – wake up.  Something’s asking for something called “food”.  Know anything about that?”

The prod-awakened god lay blinking, then he rumbled: 

“Food?  Is that actually something?  It’s not my department, I can tell you that!”, and promptly turned over, emitting a very loud snore.


The troubled young god stood up.  Looking around, he saw a rapidly ageing god trying to lower a bucket into the fountain of youth.  Seeing an opportunity, he offered to help:

“Here, I’ll get that and maybe you can help me with something.”

He lowered the bucket and drew out about half a litre of Instant Youth Elixir – the old god grabbed it with both arthritic hands and guzzled the lot.  After much glugging, he lowered the bucket, emitted a loud belch, then stood admiring his hands as they lost their spots and straightened out.  The young god never got tired of watching this transformation:

“Wow – that’s really something!  How do you feel?”

The rapidly regenerating god snapped:

“How do you think I feel?  Great!  Don’t you know that ageing is one of the last grounds for dismissal around here?  There’re only a couple of “sins” in O’Limpus, and mortality is the worst.  Haven’t you heard of mortal sin?”

The young god was still young enough to blush as he felt foolish:

“Oh, right…”  he murmured. 

Then he remembered why he was here:

“Um, sorry to bother, but maybe you can help me.  I woke to hear something asking for something called “food” – do you know what that is?”

 The god before him had become, well, toned like a god.  He stretched himself up to his full bronzed and muscular 11 foot height; looked down his straight, perfectly chiseled nose and thundered:

“I don’t take requests!  I have a set program of feats and wonders – NO REQUESTS!”  (to be continued)


(repost from Letterdash)


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