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On Matters of Faith
By Christopher Munroe
I don’t need to create a God, one’s been provided.
Dionysus, God of theatre, music and drinking. He covers all the bases I need, and he’s incredibly easy to worship!
When I’m at a bar, he’s with me, when I open my mouth to let music out into the world, he’s there. Every act of worship is a celebration, every celebration an act of worship.
Sometimes I go door-to-door, drunk out of my mind, to preach his gospel.
The results are rarely positive.
Police have been called more than once.
Still, other than that, Dionysus has been very rewarding, deity-wise…
Mirimanee, the Goddess of Science Fiction Women
by Jeffrey Fischer
And so it was decreed by the goddess Mirimanee that science fiction should satisfy the imaginations of adolescent boys, and yea, until the eleventeenth generation adolescent boys have only one thing on their minds, so female characters must adhere to the teachings of Mirimanee. She commanded that women must be:
1. buxom of stature – and thus was born countless video games.
2. weak of heart – and thus was born countless screams.
3. weak of mind – and thus the male lead ultimately saves the day.
4. weak of flesh – and thus all must fall in love with the male lead.
From time to time, new goddesses would arise and beget such characters as Commander Susan Ivanova of Babylon 5, or Clara Oswald of Doctor Who, but Miramanee would declare them false and curse their ways.
The God Papyrus Awakens
by Jeffrey Fischer
One day the great god Papyrus, God of Bureaucracy, Deliverer of Paperwork, was roused from his slumber. “Who dares wake me!” he roared, always grumpy before his morning coffee.
“Mere supplicants, o great Papyrus. We ask only that you create a system by which we may enumerate the wealth and holdings of the people, so we may ensure that what is Pharaoh’s is rendered unto Pharaoh.”
Papyrus considered the request and then, with a scowl upon his none-too-handsome face, made it so.
And thus came to be the Internal Revenue Service and its devilish spawn, Form 1040.
The moral of this story: never annoy a god before he has had his coffee.
#1 – Norman
Norman, the god of the unremarkable was nothing special.
He lived in a fairly pleasant neighbourhood – along with his wife and two children (one of each), in a house little different to those around him.
Every morning before work, he’d take the dog for a walk, head home for a shower and breakfast before heading off to work in the local DIY store, in his rather dilapidated old Ford.
There was nothing particularly interesting or noteworthy about Norman’s life – even though he was indeed a god amongst men – and few people even noticed him.
Quite remarkable, really.
#2 – Polyproblematic
The trouble with polytheism is that it has a tendency to get out of hand, surely not everything merits a divine patron?
It can get a bit silly.
Eventually, the Pantheon called a summit meeting:
“Things have gone too far”, argued Turgid, god of prophylactics; “Do we really need a goddess of finger food, and a deity for stop signs?”
“He has a point”, observed Wendy, goddess of nightwear. “You can barely move for the sacrifices!”
So they put it to the vote, and all the gods resigned (with massive pensions).
Which why the universe is run by a committee.
#3 – The Petulant God
He, whose name may not be spoken, the all-powerful builder of worlds, creator of life and The One Who Is Above All Others was in an exceptionally bad mood.
You’d think that being God would be a blast, but the truth was, all those worshippers were pretty annoying.
They’d started demanding dispensations for their sacrifices, miracles and answered prayers for their obeisance: “Heal our sick… walk on water!” they’d demand.
Walk on water?
He was God, not a damned magician!
“Time you remembered who’s in charge!”, he grumbled, before smiting them irrevocably back to the dust from whence they came!
I’m a gods r us kind of kid
Hello Gods r us
How may I assess you?
Sorry we will have to back order him
That ancient Ur always throws me.
No we no longer stock that god
You may find him available at
The Vatican’s web site.
Given this particular concentrations of deity
I would highly suggest both
Guards of the watch towers
And Mutual of Omaha Life Insurance
Let me read your order back to you
Seth Whiro Apep Eris Tau Typhon Angra Mainyu Ama-tsu-Mikaboshi Loki Coyote Prometheus Mercurius
Good luck with your daughter’s birthday party.
The God of Boredom
Against his will, he had just been promoted from a minor deity to a major god. They told him that people were always bored nowadays, so being the God of Boredom would be good. He knew why he was bored. It was because Patrice, his neighbor, had stolen his favorite book, the one about minor deities. He hated it when people messed around with his things. Could he become the God of Hatred? Noooo! He was stuck with boredom now. That’s why, before promoting anyone, the High Council of Gods should offer options! Free will and all that? Gods… Pfft.
I am the goddess.
I am she who creates pain and despair.
I bring you suffering and slaughter.
I have the power to tear worlds apart, overthrow your armies, destroy your hopes and devour you.
I was present at the dawn of time, and I will bring it to its close.
So kneel before me, parasites; bow down before my might and know that I hold your pathetic lives in my hands.
I determine whether you live, or you die; whether you are saved or damned, blessed or cursed.
I am the goddess.
And you… had better say your prayers!
The God of Computation
Every bishop wants to be Pope, and every saint aspires to become a god. I knew the woman who became Goddess of Crows, and in time she might become Goddess of Birds. But the God of Greed is struggling now, and he looks like just a passing fad of the 80’s. You need something with long-term growth potential. I’m trying for God of Computation. The others joke about me being God of Nerds. Let them think that. Modern science says that the universe runs on computation, and I reckon this could take me to the very top, and become GOD.
Number 08765943328’s Last Prayer
Oh Lord of lords, Master of all, Ruler over life and death, please accept
this humble supplication from me, number 08765943328, for I am in need of
Supreme All Knowing One, devoutly I have delivered monthly tributes to Thee,
never asking for even the smallest consideration in return, but always
holding the deepest faith that you would be there in my time of need.
Now lo! The physician has painted such an ominous picture, that I come
before Thee trembling and with bowed head, beseeching Thee.
Oh most venerable and righteous God of Insurance: please accept this claim.
The Northern California god of puns was a man with the head of a yak.
No one liked him and declined invitations to his parties with the proverbial response, “Puns are the lowest for of humor.”
He smirked at their ignorance, knowing the saying continued with, “But are the highest form of wit.”
Witty but alone, Yak Man tried to devise a way to win more friends among the local pantheon.
They all agreed to come to his Roman Bath with Sicilian Cylinders when he explained it was really just a pool party and his mother had made pizza rolls.
Long ago, the followers of Paper, Scissors, and Rock waged constant battle.
Paper beat Rock, Rock beat Scissors, and Scissors beat Paper.
Sometimes, they make brief alliances. Or truces.
Paper uses Rock to beat Scissors. Or Rock uses Scissors to beat Paper.
In the end, everyone died.
Paper, Scissors, and Rock.
Their corpses littered the streets, picked apart by dogs.
Their shrines and churches lay in ruins.
Weeds grew through the streets.
And, in time, when everything fell into rust, the forest reclaimed the land.
A survey team found some scattered rocks, but I would hardly call it a victory.