When humans think about the concept of gods, they think only of what can be done for them. The way the crops grow, the sun shines, the rain falls. They think of blessings and fertility and countless other requests. But do they ever wonder what the gods want? Does it ever occur to you… that we’re just… not… interested.
Millenia. That’s how long I’ve lived. Being the god of monsters isn’t easy. I mean, I have other jobs but this is the one I get the most ‘work’ from. And no one
for monsters, do they? No. No, you ungrateful little shits want me to take them away and destroy them! You pray to me for me to destroy my beautiful children!
My only consolation is the fear that I feed off of when you sleep. The nightmares my monsters leave in your minds.
Like ambrosia wine, the fear of children is better than anything else you hairless monkeys have on that rock and I want nothing more than to lick it from your very skin…
But that’s enough about me. Let’s talk about you!
Every generation, some less-than-completely-useless old guy remembers that I’m not up here for my fucking health and decides that I need to be thanked ‘properly’. Or at least, they used to.
They tried doves. Doves…! I heard at least one god one likes them but, … I’m far from impressed.
They tried goats … not enough, not for me.
They tried all kinds of produce. What would I do with that? Have you seen my teeth? You have a million icons, pay attention!
They tried cattle. Boring.
Then one day they decided they just weren’t in tune with what I wanted and they walked a boy up to the chopping block. Now that… That got my attention.