It's been a couple of millennium since he last showed his face but at last god's turned up again; and he's obviously pissed.
Like the slow blinking whiffy uncle at a family gathering showing you his one card trick - the one you fathomed as an eight year old and have been explaining how he's been doing it wrong ever since - god's bringing out one of his favourite tools to keep the mortals under control.
Rumour has it he'd been on the lash for two thousand years with Buddha and had moved on from the communion wine to an old bottle of Cointreau he was given one Christmas (Or was it his birthday?) by Thor. He'd been banging for the last 600 years about how outsourcing his vengeance to various freedom fighters and terrorists was one of his worst mistakes. He missed bringing his little lambs up to heaven personally with fire and brimstone and salt and fiery serpents.
The orangey liquor proved too much for him and he set about showing his chubby deity mate how smiting should be done. Unfortunately his aim is out and instead of destroying the sin-laden rat's nest of Chipping Norton as he intended and his booze addled fire finger aimed at the Australian outback.
It's believed he's currently sleeping it off now in a car park in Rhyl and so we'll not be seeing any evidence of his existence for another couple of thousand years, and even then he'll need a cup of coffee and a handful of Panadol before he'll sheepishly set fire to a bush somewhere.
Like the slow blinking whiffy uncle at a family gathering showing you his one card trick - the one you fathomed as an eight year old and have been explaining how he's been doing it wrong ever since - god's bringing out one of his favourite tools to keep the mortals under control.
Rumour has it he'd been on the lash for two thousand years with Buddha and had moved on from the communion wine to an old bottle of Cointreau he was given one Christmas (Or was it his birthday?) by Thor. He'd been banging for the last 600 years about how outsourcing his vengeance to various freedom fighters and terrorists was one of his worst mistakes. He missed bringing his little lambs up to heaven personally with fire and brimstone and salt and fiery serpents.
The orangey liquor proved too much for him and he set about showing his chubby deity mate how smiting should be done. Unfortunately his aim is out and instead of destroying the sin-laden rat's nest of Chipping Norton as he intended and his booze addled fire finger aimed at the Australian outback.
It's believed he's currently sleeping it off now in a car park in Rhyl and so we'll not be seeing any evidence of his existence for another couple of thousand years, and even then he'll need a cup of coffee and a handful of Panadol before he'll sheepishly set fire to a bush somewhere.
Tweet
No comments:
Post a Comment