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)