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December 3, 2007
Monday
You are preparing for a meeting with (any) God.
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"Ah, come in, please," said Deus, gesturing toward the chair opposite his. I took it, surprisingly relaxed in the presence of a deity. "Thank you for meeting with me."
"It's my pleasure, I assure you," I replied. "What can I do for you?"
"Funny you should ask that. I was wondering if you'd like a job."
I was stunned into silence. "A job? Really?"
He nodded. "It would, of course, be with our Earth branch office, but you would be working closely with me. The pay's not great, but the benefits are terrific."
"Sounds wonderful. What's the job title?"
"Messiah."
Posted by: LJ at December 3, 2007 7:02 PM · Permalink
Diego's hair is white and thin-wreathed above his ears, thick and hard around his muzzle and spotty in deep valleys between his temples and his chin. No metaphor does justice to the slow death we all fight for even at the Mission; there's no sex in the details and we're not well worn leather or dry mud brick or other things with function. Old age is pain and medicine and penance for our youth; we are wise now but too weak to right the many wrongs we did on purpose. Old age is futile Purgatory and we sin in preparation.
Posted by: Christopher Cocca at December 3, 2007 7:04 PM · Permalink
Mitchell's unease increased in tempo with the Client's tentacle slapping.
Was It impatient? Hard to tell with no eye contact (discouraged, for
mental health reasons).
Supernatural Endorsements was the ass-end of Metaphysical Marketing's very
diverse holdings, but after his last fiasco (Vacation Dis: Take the
Fifth!) he couldn't be too choosy.
But the Great Old Ones account quite unmanned him. (The ill-received
Cthulhu For Tang promotion from the '60s was legendary.)
So maybe he rushed the closer...
And our motto: With the Snoozy-Rest mattress, it's "R'lyeh to bed,
R'lyeh to rise..."
Mitchell's screams of evisceration echoed across three alternate dimensions.
Posted by: shinjukri at December 3, 2007 11:59 PM · Permalink