Thunderbug

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On a tiny world full of…stuff…a man stands with his fist in the sky, brandishing a weapon of furious destruction that glints in the cold air like a miniature star. Jagged tendrils of lightening hum around him. The man is unfazed, seemingly, because this is what thunder gods do.

Find the enemy, shout at them a lot and fry what’s left with lightening until it stops moving. Another day, another bloody long Asgardian tale of masculinity and heroics.

Except today…well, today, frankly, it just isn’t working. The man is angry about this, as you would if you thought today was going to be full of very uncomplicated things like woodcarvings, instead of one very complicated thing who happens to be enjoying himself.

Today does not feel like a good day to be a thunder god. Which is ridiculous- there is never not a good day to be a thunder god*, and the man vents his frustration aloud at the sheer unrighteousness of this vexing living-breathing-impossibility.

“Piss off!”

Alas, the vexing-living-breathing-impossibility is unfazed. If anything, he appears to be laughing now, and again the thunder god raises his fist to sky. For a brief moment, vision is temporary blacked out by lightening bolts. That takes a lot of doing for an otherwise temperate planet full of mild temperatures and only the very occasional hurricane.

“I told you, that’s not going to work. Ever. Give up, and for Ned’s sake quit screaming at me, because the longer you scream the harder it is for me to leave.”

“Leave now interloper! Be gone from this place of tribute and worship, as decreed by the seventh god of the Asgardian warrior kings!”

“Why? I’m not doing anything, besides frustrating you, which we both know is entirely your fault.”

“Why do you persist on these riddles demon? I am a god! Why do you insist on defying holy creed?!”

“I haven’t finished my book. No thanks to you, I might add.”

“BEGONE!!”

“…what have I just told you…?”

And so it continues. Lightening, fury, manly energy and the sort of dialogue most of us tend to have with mosquitoes or a traffic jam. Entirely pointless, as with much of life. Except very blatantly.

It would have been kinder to do as the jumped-up sack of brick said, and come back another time, when he was too busy being a hero somewhere else.I’m sure he’d like that, even though manly thunder god creed would deny him from ever admitting it. But sod the law about working around heroes. Do it for one and they all expect it of you.

The trouble with quests is that they very much depend on timing. You can’t not be there doing that, because you need to be there doing that- or else that thing you need doing is never going to be possible, on account of needing to be done at that place at that exact darn time.

Mine, currently, involves recovering bits of a certain book scattered throughout the galaxy, using only thought and a large number  of very exact quasi-dimensional location/time correlations. The book is important, because it’s the only book in existence with a phrase that for the life of me I should but cannot remember.

It’s turning out to be bloody hard work.

 

W

*They don’t even get hangovers

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