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“DAT GOOD-FOR-NOTHING KING!!!”
The God of Leadership’s shrill voice echoed throughout his empty realm. Below his desk was where he sat, frazzled and pissy. His ol’ hat had long since fallen off in his little hissy fit, forgotten whilst he curled his noodle-like form in on itself, tearing at his tail and clawing up the walls.
It was rather unsightly of a god to throw a fit like this. Little hairs and bits of plastic were scattered everywhere. Even his poor computers had taken a few blunt hits, sending terrible cracks across their screens.
Inspekta was mad. Very mad. He told himself this was normal for a god as new as him, that there was still humanity left after all. And he had reason to be angry! That new Godpoke, thinkin’ she was so much better than everyone… that she could take the spotlight that was rightfully HIS? Sure, he’d ascended almost 33 years ago, but what did that mean when he was the GOD OF LEADERSHIP?? Everyone was supposed to love him, to listen to him. What is a leader without his followers?
A fist smashed down on a keyboard with a harsh clack, sending keyspam across a broken screen. Another picked furiously at faux fur. Yet another tore at curled, plush hair. His teeth longed to sink into something in his anger, but his divine form could not bleed.
“Ooooh, I’m King, I’m gunna waltz into da Grove an’ take Inspekta’s job! Missy M loves me sooooo much, an’ no-baw-dee would eeeever think I’m da MONSTA I AM!!!” The God rambled aimlessly to himself between gritted teeth, straining his voice to mock the mortal.
“I’m soooo good wif words, I’d be da best leader da Grove could ever want!! GRRRRH. I bet dat little pest wanna run for GODHOOD!”
“Er… boss?”
A deeper voice cut through Inspekta’s aimless frustration. Untangling himself from his own body, his wide eyes settled upon the figure on the floor, panting breath filling the newborn silence.
“Cappy!!” Inspekta exclaimed, scooping up the small man in his godly hands. It was like a switch had flipped in the God’s brain upon setting his eyes to his second-in-command. Capochin lost his footing on the furry surface as he was brought up to Inspekta’s face, receiving a less-than-gentle nuzzle atop his head.
“Nice to see ya too, boss.” Capochin hesitantly ducked away from the affections as he spoke, tail curled up almost nervously. “Jus’ came to bring ya burgie. What was all dat about?”
“Awe, don’t worry yewr little head!! God busy-ness!” Inspekta trilled as he reached another floating hand around his little deputy, yoinking the greasy bag he’d brought with him. It took a little rummaging through the paper to grab the prize inside-- Capochin’s wonderful Devotion Burgie!
Oh, how it meant so much to him, to be so worshipped and loved, even by one he’d known so long. At the moment, the God was so large he could simply plop the burger in his mouth like a pill, but he took the time to savor the flavor. Truly, nobody made a burger like his deputy! What a flavor it was, so juicy and meaty… as if Capochin put his whole self into making it! But of course he would. He was the sole cook for the God of Leadership, of course.
Not that gods needed to eat.
“Were ya talkin’ ‘bout King?” Capochin’s voice cut through his peaceful musing. Rather suddenly, it was hard to keep that cutesy smile on his face.
“Oh, yew know me too well, Cappy,” Inspekta waved a hand absently, “I just can’t keep a secret from yew!” He felt like he was going to rip his tail clean off if he had to think about King a second longer, that no-good thieving scoundrel of a Godpoke.
“What’s all this ‘bout godhood, then?”
With a stilted breath, then a sigh, Inspekta prepared the words in his brain. Capochin was an easy man to convince. The scheme stirring up within him could play out beautifully with a deputy like him, so happily molded in his hands.
“Yew’re a smart man, Cappy-chin,” he sweetly began, “surely yew see it? Da Grove loves King. Her words are so everything to them, dat ol’ Razza-ma-whatever’s makin’ a whole book of ‘em! Ain’t it obvious??”
That look on Capochin’s face was almost nostalgic. The way his little nose scrunched up when deep in thought, the furrow of his brow; Inspekta knew every inch of him like the back of his hand.
“If da Grove loves her…”
“...They’ll put her up for election,” Capochin finished after a teensy bit of prompting. His god gave him a little pat on the head in approval, an almost condescending gesture.
“See, I knew yew’d understand! ‘Course, if King joins da pantheon, what will she be da god of? All she’s known for is bringing people togetha. Like a leader,” Inspekta’s grin dropped, eyes half-lidded as he spoke to the man in his hands. As squeaky as his voice was, and as silly as he looked, Capochin seemed to shiver. The god leaned close.
“We can’t have dat, can we?”
The stormy sky had split apart.
The rift was here.
Only a day out from King’s ascension now.
The little huzzin’ brat had indeed run for godhood, under the title of the God of Eloquence. If you asked Inspekta, that title was rather stupid. Eloquence? Speaking well? That deserved godhood?
Yet the more he pondered this, the more it came to him: most of the gods did not earn their place. They did not deserve godhood like he did. Inspekta changed peoples’ lives, brought them together under a new purpose to serve and protect. What did the other gods of the Grove do? Write lovey-dovey plays? Eat jam? Make up nonsense?
Did anyone truly deserve this like he did?
So he found himself drawn to the tantalizing light within his realm, of which would suck his godly form into the real world.
In the real world, the wind would howl and cry. In the real world, rain would pelt down upon the mortals below.
In the real world, the end of all greeted him.
The rift.
He had only seen it once before, when he had ascended. Seeing it now, as its equal, was nothing short of awe-inspiring. It was almost beautiful, that giant glowing crack in the sky. It split open the atmosphere like an egg, ready to bring upon armageddon should the gods not close it in time. Nobody knew what would happen if they didn’t.
In a day, they would.
The plan was simple. King was not allowed to ascend. How would one prevent such a thing when she had the unanimous adoration of the entire Grove, you may ask?
Down, down there, his lovely second-in-command was spreading delicious lies. He had helped write them of course, the god’s handwriting was frankly atrocious, but it was Inspekta’s idea. Defamation. King would be ruined.
Of course, they couldn’t have her objecting. She had to… disappear. That was why Inspekta faced the rift today. He had to make sure everything could go according to plan.
He would trap her up here. No human would dare make the climb to the tallest point on earth without godly permission. No human could become a god without Miss Mitternacht’s blessing. It was perfect.
But would that be enough? What of the other gods, who all had nothing to say, nothing to be worshipped for?
They had to go too. Smart as he was, he could theorize the rift would simply eat the gods along with the rest of the world. Then he would close it himself. Nobody would know what he did. They would all love him again.
“Rift,” his voice was swallowed up by the thundering clouds around him, “bless me. Yew must see it too. Yew ascended me. She can’t replace me, yew agree, right? Yew will let this happen. Yew must.”
A hand lifted out of his ‘coat’ and reached for the light.
“It’ll all be ack-cord-ing to plan. No more nothing gods.
Just me.”