It Ain’t Easy Being An Outer Goddess
Really. It’s not.
So there I am, in my magnificent Outer Goddess palace, relaxing for the briefest moment on my exquisite daybed throne, and being administered to by my masseuses, when out of nowhere, unexpectedly and completely improperly, there’s a shitlicking mommiefornicating earthquake.
Not just a little errant chaosbug, like most of them are, those planetary zits that cry out for scratching now and then, no. This was the works, the whole nine yards, the entire grandiose spectacle in vibrant Technicolor with a cast of thousands. Pillars start falling and crushing my gladiators to death. The ballroom floor had been retracted to reveal the pool, so naturally, the pool gets destroyed from the big chunks of pillar raining down onto and into it, along with my favorite god damn mermaid and a few of the barely-legal (as in, barely-past-tadpole ) deep ones.
I was not happy about that, because my little pocket-realm, this place where I keep my palace, isn’t subject to earthquakes of any kind. And replacing things is as much a hassle for gods and goddesses is as it is for anyone else. Well, no it’s not. Not at all, actually. It’s not like it costs me anything to replace it or remake it. But it means I have to do something. And I hate doing things that I shouldn’t have to do. Sometimes I love doing things. I’m always doing things in ways you can’t even dream of, but only the things I want. And sometimes I want to just do no things.
Opting for doing no things is a lot like doing nothing. Not exactly, but close. Most of what you do as a creature possessing mass is out of your control anyhow, so you can’t do no things. You can’t truly be still, for example, because you’re stuck on a rock.
But I can.
And if I have a thing to do, then it’s hard for me to do nothing. I can do nothing while I do things, of course, but that’s beside the point. I resent that I can have things I need to do when I would prefer to do no things, and I resent anything that caused it.
Except for when I don’t, but that isn’t now.
When the whole god damn ceiling came down on me, I went to daddy Nyarly. The one I found first was some kind of giant centipede-looking thing, only all the legs were man-legs. The bottom two were very long and held his slinky body upright with an invertebrate shimmy and an incessant wriggling of the (not all that much) smaller legs.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I said. “You just spoiled half a dozen nothings I wanted.”
Then some stuff happened that I can’t explain, and some stuff happened that I can sort of explain. Chaos stuff. You have no idea how many close calls your stupid little planet has, much less all the rest of them I bother to watch over. The amount of effort it takes to hold order together drives the chaos that perpetually undoes it.
That’s why we play these games at all. Why not? We’ve stopped before, and we’ll stop again. And we’ll start another round of games. Don’t worry about it.
So there I am, relaxing for the briefest moment on my exquisite daybed throne, and being administered to by my masseuses, watching my mermaid getting chased and mounted by the barely-legal deep ones in the pool.
He sure is having a lot of those glitches lately. I wonder, is this game coming to a close?
Wouldn’t that be exciting, even if just for a moment?
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