Those Fucking Unicorns (Mythklok, Chapter 82)
Title: Those Fucking Unicorns (Mythklok, Chapter 82)
Author: tikistitch
Rating: NC -17
Summary: Lord Ganesh and his family go to a dedication ceremony.
Warnings: Angel sechs, annoying mythological creatures.
Notes: Notes after the jump.
Let's get this party started, right.
Sooooo, have you finished your H&G? Hmmmmm?
NO?
THEN WHY ARE YOU READING THIS!
Get writing. I'll wait....
Mythklok: stronger than dirt.
Last time: We went through this universe's version of what happened when Charles was “dead.” Pretty depressing, huh? Sahry, doods.
Charles didn't even flinch as the small Suzuki wove around a slow cyclist to the left while narrowly avoiding the giant tanker truck to the right, only to miss by mere inches an oncoming, ridiculously overcrowded motor bus headed in the opposite direction. Charles turned to watch the bus disappear into the orangey dust, beings clinging off the exits and gripping the overhead luggage rack.
Ganesh, obviously having the time of his existence, bleated on the horn, his large grin in full flush.
"Beep beep!" echoed Elias from his car seat in the back.
Murgatroyd the wolf pup, lacking the power of speech, merely yipped.
"Beep beep!" laughed Ganesh.
"You have a driver, right?" asked Charles, who, sitting in the passenger seat, had long since worn out his right leg from pumping an imaginary brake.
"I have a number of drivers!" enthused Ganesh, jamming on the clutch as they passed a group of at least eighteen colorfully dressed beings on a colorfully decorated tuk tuk, a three wheeled vehicle meant to seat six. "But this is such jolly fun! There is nothing like the roadways in the Imperial City! It's brilliant!"
"Bwiwwian!" giggled Elias.
The puppy barked, thumping its fat little tail on the rear seat cushion.
"Oh, you're not getting him started with the fake British accent thing are you?" grumbled Charles, waving at their son.
"It's not fake!" said Ganesh, who for once didn't seem perturbed by the insult.
"And you don't use any magic?" Charles asked.
"Sariel! Please! That would be cheating!"
The car suddenly lurched to a halt as a flock or True Formed angels - Cherubim, by the looks of them - crossed the street, going from here to there. It seemed to Charles that everyone in the cit had suddenly got the notion that they needed to be somewhere - anywhere - but where they were right now. He decided to distract himself by once again trying to divine some kind of rhyme or reason for traffic flow. The car was definitely right hand drive, but there were also left handed steering vehicles on the road, and many of the three wheelers set the driver in the middle (where he was inevitably accompanied by passengers seated halfway on and halfway off the vehicle on either side).
Traffic seemed to flow on the left hand side of the street, but drivers also made heavy use of the ongoing lane, as well as the side meridian when it suited them. And all bets were off when you came to an intersection, trucks and cars and buses and bicycles and ox carts and three wheeled tuk tuks and scooters all lined up opposite each other waiting to charge. Somehow they always ended up threading through each other, and Charles had not yet seen an accident
.
Ganesh narrowly avoided a scooter which had come barreling into them on the more or less wrong side of the street. The scooter driver skillfully wove around a herd of wild yaks and blasted out of sight.
"I use to tool around in one of those, in my younger days!" said Ganesh.
"Did you?" Charles watched as they sped past an entire family of four arrayed on a small turquoise scooter. The mother, dressed in a fine silk sari, rode side saddle on the back, an infant clinging to her with all the strength in its tiny hands.
"Yes! I took Breagan out once. Thought she was going to murder me afterwards! On the other hand, Lady Raziel found it to be bracing!"
"She would."
Ganesh glanced over at Charles, blinking his eyes appealingly. "I still have that scooter! It's parked in the garage."
"Ganesh. No way. No fucking way."
"No?"
"One of us has to stay alive to bring up the kid, remember? Nothing good can come of riding a scooter."
Ganesh didn't reply, but rather yelled "Madarchod," and leaned on the horn, grabbing at the steering wheel and the shifter. He had very narrowly avoided a group of lovely one-horned white horses which were rather obliviously herding right in the middle of traffic.
"Maddasod!" giggled Elias.
"Elias!" cautioned Charles. "What did we say about Daddy words?"
"Bloody things!" barked Ganesh, waving a fist as a veritable hurricane of honking horns squawked in protest at the unicorns.
"What happened to venerating all living things?" laughed Charles as the traffic
laboriously untangled itself around the ethereal beasts.
"They're a nuisance! A hazard!" groused Ganesh. "And that's not the worst. It just takes the barest insult, and then they're off stampeding! Overly sensitive things."
"How do you insult a unicorn?" wondered Charles.
"Just about anything will do. They ought be herded up! But you can't do it! They're unicorns!" Ganesh's voice dripped with sarcasm.
"Fucking unicorns!" said Charles.
"Yes. Fucking unicorns!" agreed Ganesh.
"Fukkin ooniecowns!"
"ELIAS!" chorused his fathers.
Ganesh returned a polite namaste bow to the doorman and hit the elevator's up button.
"Is this a new building?" Charles asked, as they were in the old section of town.
"Positively ancient! But the interior has been completely refurbished."
"Lemme guess: Penthouse?" asked Charles as they shuffled persons (three), dogs (one) and luggage (many pieces, and mainly Ganesh's winter wardrobe) into the elevator.
"Correct!" said Ganesh. Charles held up Elias to punch the right button, as the child had a prodigious gift for elevator button pushing. Ganesh continued, "I thought we could do with a bit of roughing it, just us three-" As if on cue, Murgatroyd the wolf let out a yip. "I apologize, I mean, us four all together, no servants nor Klokateers."
The elevator doors opened at the top floor, and the group made its way to an old wooden door upon which had been carved many proud elephants. Unsurprisingly, the door opened up to a lovely rooftop villa.
"Roughing it, huh?" Charles muttered to himself. There were wall hangings here that probably could have paid the mortgage on Mordhaus (Mordhaus, in fact, had a mortgage, which is a very interesting story I shan't go into here). He looked at a golden dancing Ganesha statue in the entryway. Being an angel he could immediately tell it was constructed of real gold, solid all the way through.
"Let me show you your room," Ganesh told Elias, who grabbed his little elephant themed backpack and, with Murgatroyd the puppy, scampered after his long-legged father down a hallway.
Charles set down his one roller bag and stood looking out a window over the old section of the Imperial City, out across the river to the skyscrapers on the bank of the river that separated ancient from modern. He put a hand to the cool, smooth countertop: white marble, he noticed, and inlaid with precious jewels unless his angel eyes were deceiving him.
He looked again to the dancing Ganesha statue. Ganesh didn't usually favor images of himself around his living quarters. The statue however was unusual. Instead of the sweet, chubby Ganesha so often depicted by devotees, this sleeker figure looked like it might have been based on Ganesh himself: in the fine metalwork you could see the tensed thigh muscles or his raised leg, and the graceful set of the strong, slim fingers of each hand.
He felt at least one pair of arms wrap around his waist, and Ganesh's breath on his neck. "This your idea of roughing it?" Charles asked.
"Yes!" said Ganesh, not a hint of irony in his voice. "It is perfect for our little family, is it not?”
“Is that your water pipe?” asked Charles, gesturing at an elaborate hookah displayed in one corner. Ganesh, like the rest of his family, enjoyed smoking things that were not tobacco, but Charles had never seen him indulge in that particular vice.
“My father's,” said Ganesh, a small hint of sadness now in his voice.
“Oh, I didn't know,” said Charles.
“He was Lord of Intoxication, did you know that?”
“No, I had no idea. You guys all have lots of jobs.”
“We have many duties, it is true. And now, I must show you the best part of this apartment! Boonie!" There was suddenly the sound of a small stampede thundering down the corridor as Elias and Murgatroyd rushed back out. Wotan had opined that that if the young wolf ever grew up to his paws, which seemed at least a half size too big for him right now, he would be "a monster." Just what we need, thought Charles. He did wonder why the addition of a quite small wolf to the family now often made it sound as if they were now raising a herd of club-footed elephants.
"Come along now, I believe you will like this," said Ganesh, urging them along the corridor to a pair of double doors. The doors were of cut glass, but had the curtains lowered, perhaps for dramatic effect, Charles speculated. He found his speculation proved true as Ganesh threw open the doors to reveal an incredible rooftop garden.
Elias and his dog were off like a shot, running and shouting and yelping. "It's spectacular," confessed Charles, who really didn't know shit about gardening, but recognized quality when he saw it.
"Yes, Uncle Phanuel lend a hand in planting this!" Ganesh bragged. Charles noticed that Ganesh now considered Phanuel part of his extended family. Well, he was Raziel's father, and he and Raziel were more or less cousins.... Charles stopped figuring: he would ask Wotan at some point.
“A lot of trouble to give yourself a place to sneak off for a smoke," laughed Charles.
“It is peaceful, up here, out of the dust,” said Ganesh.
Charles walked over to the low wall at the edge and leaned over just in time to see a fully packed bus nearly miss hitting a milk truck. “Yeah, out of the dust,” he said.
Murgatroyd had picked this time to make his mark in some ornamental shrubbery, so Ganesh had hastened over to point out appropriate and inappropriate rest areas for the dog. Maybe I need to get Ganesh after William Murderface, thought Charles.
The doorbell sounded from inside. "And you see, I have prepared dinner for us!" announced Ganesh. As angel stomachs always tend to want filling, Charles followed Ganesh back inside and to the front door, where awaited a man bearing a rather preposterous number of round metal tins. After the transaction (including a generous tip) had been concluded, Ganesh called his son's name several times, to no avail.
It was Charles' turn to grin. "Hey, Murgatroyd!" he shouted. The small wolf was suddenly at his feet. "Boon!" he ordered. "Fetch Boon!" And then, as Ganesh watched curiously, the puppy gallumphed back out to the garden and skillfully herded their errant son back into the house.
"Impressive!" noted Ganesh.
"I taught him that," bragged Charles. “I'm gonna try him with the band next.”
All beings now crowded around the dining room table to marvel at the delicious smelling containers. Ganesh whipped off each lid with a great deal of dramatic flourish. "Garlic naan!"
"Naan!" repeated Elias, his eyes wide.
"Paneer butter masala," Ganesh continued to more oohs and ahs. "Daal. Alloo partha. Mutter potatoes. Saag. And. Tandoori chicken."
"TANDOORI!" chorused Charles and Elias, who grinned and high fived each other in triumph at getting the crispy, delicious forbidden flesh into Ganesh's residence.
"I find myself surrounded by omnivorous beings," sighed Ganesh. He then directed the assembled crowd in the washing of hands and setting of the table. The adults at last seated themselves, Elias clambered into a seat, and then Murgatroyd belly-flopped into the fourth and final chair and sat, pink tongue lolling at the spread. A stern look and pointing finger from Ganesh, and the dog slipped back to the ground, where he wound himself around Elias' chair leg. Ganesh then spent a fair chunk of the meal warning various offenders against the feeding of table scraps, advice which was blithely ignored by all, including notably Ganesh himself.
Finally, after the very last delicious paneer gravy had been sopped up by the last scrap of naan bread and stuffed into a hungry maw, they retired to the living room for masala tea and sweets. Elias soon became occupied with producing his latest masterpiece on his electronic tablet. Ganesh clicked around the stereo remote, and then excitedly leapt up at a familiar song.
"Come on!" he urged, tugging a somewhat reluctant Charles to his feet.
"One slow dance!" Charles protested.
"We're not in public!" Ganesh scoffed.
“Boon counts! And there's the dog!” noted Charles.
But soon god and angel were following the intricate footwork of the dance.
Ganesh felt a tug at his trouser leg. "Boonie dances too, Baap! Boonie id Lowd a da Dance!"
"All rightie, here we go," laughed Ganesh, grabbing his son and swinging him around.
"Hey, no cutting in," declared Charles.
"You do well, but you are no Lord of the Dance," Ganesh told Charles as he turned his giggling son upside down.
After a few more reels, when various parties were left sprawled over couches and panting, Ganesh pulled out a book and told Charles, "So, why don't you get this one ready for bed, and I'll get the kitchen sorted. I have acquired some appropriate bedtime reading."
Charles frowned at the colorful picture book. "Uh, I think you'll find that this is written in Hindi."
"Do not worry," said Ganesh, breaking out an extra pair or two of arms to clear the table. "I am certain Boonie will help you sound out the more difficult words."
Ganesh stood at the kitchen sink, soaping up the last of the dishes. One advantage of being a god was that you could both wash and rinse. He had thrown off his jacket and shirt to make full use of his extra arms. He had never found a shirt tailored for more than one pair of limbs that suited his tastes. Sariel did not seem to much mind this state of affairs. And in fact, Ganesh now found himself with an amorous angel somehow situated between himself and the kitchen counter.
"Why do you ever wear a shirt?" Sariel was asking him. "I'm gonna take all your shirts and burn them."
"You know then I would only shop for more." Ganesh smiled and, gripping the angel by the waist, lifted him to sit upon the kitchen counter.
"Hey, I'll get all soapy!" protested Sariel, albeit not with much force, as he was speaking into Ganesh's neck.
"I'll do much worse," Ganesh promised. "Is the boy asleep?"
"Yeah, they're both out like a lamp. Only took three and a half goes of your book. Think all the dancing did him in."
"Yes. We will send him to lessons with my Uncle before long." Sariel looked sour, so Ganesh asked, "What is wrong?"
"Vishnu is kind of an asshole."
"Vishnu is a terrific asshole!" said Ganesh. He shook his head. "But it is a political matter of a sort among my family."
"The politics of dancing," muttered Sariel. "You know, Boon's taught the dog to fetch his toys. By name."
"Really? That is terribly impressive.”
"Yeah, but my head is getting all ragged!"
"Sariel! It is not you! Wunge is a soft toy. A well loved one, but a toy nevertheless."
Ganesh leaned back a fraction and placed hands on Sariel's cheeks, gazing at him with the dark-lashed eyes that had melted the steeliest of hearts down to sticky piles of burbling goo on six continents (Ganesh had not yet been to Antarctica).
When he had first encountered the angel - so long ago it now seemed - at one of Uncle's hunts, he had never seen a magical aura quite like. It blazed with power, but was ravaged by pain, by death. Despite his protestations to Lady Raziel that he did not wish a renovation project, he had finally persuaded the angel to throw away his pack of cigarettes and eat nutritious food and just generally stop acting like such a berk. And now the aura had changed to something not so clouded by illness and regret, to something bright and clear and bracing.
And dead sexy.
Ganesh blinked, stirred from his reverie, as he felt a strand of hair being brushed out of his eyes. It stubbornly fell back.
"You ogling my damn aura again?" Sariel grinned, wrapping his legs around Ganesh's waist. Ganesh shrugged. "I can tell, your heart starts beating faster." Ganesh blinked again, but this time with surprise. Angels and their odd supernatural sense of hearing. Since Ganesh had cured Sariel's deafness some time ago, he had acquired almost a sixth sense about certain things. He claimed that no matter where he was, he could actually hear the members of Dethklok. It sounded strange to Ganesh, but he had found it was unwise to doubt an angel.
"I have an idea about the night's entertainment," said Ganesh.
Charles gasped, his body arching.
He spread his thighs wider apart, clamping his legs around Ganesh's, who was sitting beneath him. Ganesh's idea about the night's entertainment turned out to involve a new and rare blend of massage oil. Ganesh already gave the world's most mind blowing hand jobs, but the combination of his soft, skillful hands and the warm prickling of the oil made Charles' nerves crackle from the base of his spine all the way down to his toes.
Ganesh was holding Charles' arms up over his head. It was a gentle grip, and Charles could have easily broken free, but that was the thing about Ganesh, you didn't want to break free from his web, you want to get tangled deeper.
And Ganesh's caresses, so soft and gentle and achingly, agonizingly slow, even when you were really dying for him to get the fuck on with it already. Charles' mind started to drift. It had been a while now, but he remembered making love to a woman, so very different. He remembered the faces, the touch of the skin.
And Ganesh was murmuring in his ear now, telling such lies, about how exquisite he was, and it was all hogwash, but really, you needed to hear more. And Charles remembered the women, and the men, and everyone he'd touched like this, but not like this, from the enchanting Countess to the bloody disaster of his assignations with Eototo....
"You're everyone..... Everyone I've ever touched," he found himself telling Ganesh. Stupid. Stupid and trite, dumb words now hanging there between them.
"Oh, such a sweet thing to say. Such a a lovely thing. My beloved angel," Ganesh whispered back.
Charles relaxed into the soft waves of touching again. Ganesh loved holding him from behind like this, Charles knew. The Hindu god not only had a lust for power, he had a rather deep kink for body hair. He often made snotty remarks about how male models nowadays were a bunch of hairless adolescents. Charles had no clue about this, but luxuriated for a moment in the hands brushing his chest, stroking his thighs. He suddenly smiled and, breaking his arms free of Ganesh's gentle grip, pushed himself back, hard, grinding down into Ganesh's lap.
“Oh, my naughty angel. You know I can't resist that tight ass, don't you?” Ganesh muttered. Ganesh pushed Charles away a fraction and paused to rub himself with the massage oil. Then he grabbed Charles' hips and attempted to pull him down, hard. But Charles stiffened, resisting. And then, taking his own damned time, he lowered himself, as slowly as he could, taking Ganesh's engorged dick into him by agonizing millimeters.
He heard the sigh, and felt Ganesh's fingernails dig into his thighs. He turned his head, and reached one arm back to claim a long, lingering kiss. And then he set back to moving against Ganesh, keeping the torturous slow rhythm.
All at once, Ganesh seemed to come back to himself, and then many hands were upon Charles again, but this time rougher, quicker. Charles let out his own sigh. He was so hard now. Every stroke was exquisite torture. And then Ganesh redoubled his grip on Charles' hips, pulling him down faster and faster. Charles felt himself let out a small scream, and then abandoned himself to his orgasm, suddenly giddy with the release.
He barely noticed as Ganesh suddenly picked him up and placed him back down on his hands and knees, pushing his legs wide apart, grabbing him by the hair and then just fucking him, slamming into him like a madman, frantic and sexy. He finally felt Ganesh come, a pair of arms tight around Charles' belly. And then they were lying together, Ganesh on top, still inside him, breathing together, the only two people in the universe, here alone together.
Ganesh at last pulled out of Sariel. Rolling over to his back, he tugged the angel close to him, gently cleaning him off with a soft towel.
"Sticky," muttered Sariel.
"We might have a good hot shower. In a bit," said Ganesh, who was content for now to just lay quietly against his lover's fine soft skin.
"Our kid is sticky," said Sariel.
"He is often that," laughed Ganesh, placing the towel aside.
"The poets are full of crap."
Ganesh paused at the non sequitur. "Yes?" he finally asked. Sometimes, when he was quite drunk, or a little high, or had just experienced orgasm, Sariel became like another person: himself, but with the weight of the world suddenly dropped away. Light.
"They always compare love to a bunch of flowers and and perfume shit like that. But it's not that. It's sticky,” declared Sariel.
Ganesh gently tilted Sariel's head so the angel was looking at him. "Where is Sariel, and whatever have you done with him?" he smiled.
"Think," muttered Sariel. "Sticky. Maybe it's, uh, you know, metaphorical."
"Mmmm. For sticking together?".smiled Ganesh.
"It's sticky," persisted Sariel.
Ganesh pulled Sariel up to his favorite perch, resting his head on Ganesh's chest. It was evidently a favored spot for angels. Ganesh theorized they craved the sound of the human heartbeat.
Ganesh liked having theories.
"Are you looking forwards to the ceremony tomorrow?" he inquired.
Ganesh could actually feel Sariel's sunny mood start to chill. "Uh. In no way, shape or form," the angel confessed.
"Why not? It shall all be a low key affair."
"I don't think they like me," confessed Sariel.
"Who doesn't like you, dear? My followers positively adore you!"
"Nobody much likes angels. I don't much like angels. And I am a fucking angel."
"Oh, poppycock! You simply need to get more in touch with the earth god part of your nature."
"Yeah, but remember, my Papa is not actually of this earth."
"I really wouldn't worry," hushed Ganesh. "We will simply have a small dedication and some discussion of commerce...."
"What about a traffic safety lecture?"
Ganesh sighed. "The casualty rate on our roadways is inconsequential compared to that of your gardeners."
"Apples to oranges," said Sariel.
"Why is that?"
"Our gardeners have hedge trimmers and wood pulpers!"
"All right, I shall grant you that. Then what about the casualty rate amongst your kitchen staff?" asked Ganesh, his eyes narrowing.
"Carving knives, meat grinders, to say nothing of fire."
"Accounts receivable?" said Ganesh.
"Well, uh," said Sariel. "Those pencils can get pretty sharp!"
Ganesh harrumphed. It sounded not unlike his Uncle Brahma.
Charles hung back, watching Ganesh and Elias.
Ganesh had said it would be a relatively casual affair, so although the god had transformed to his ceremonial elephant head, he was wearing a suit and not his elaborate gold-braided red robes. He had tucked his broken bit of trunk neatly into one jacket pocket like a boutonniere.
Charles was True Formed for the occasion, which only increased his level of discomfort. He disliked his angelic Form as much as he despised being a center of attention. It was true that having Elias took some of the pressure off. As word had spread of what many beings considered a miracle, there grew an intense curiosity about him.
Miracle. Charles scoffed at the word. If Elias was a miracle, then so was Charles. And of course he was no fucking miracle.
They were in a busy avenue in the old part of the city. The street was a bustling marketplace that had sprung out one of the lovely ancient temples there. Unfortunately, the structure had been damaged in the recent war with the angels, and had also suffered the normal ravages of age. This section had all been carefully restored, so Ganesh, as Lord of Beginnings, was there to do a ribbon cutting type deal.
"Namaste, Sa-reel-ji."
Charles turned and politely returned the namaste praying hands-and-little-bow gesture. "Namaste," he said, trying to keep his voice quiet. He was well aware that he often scared the crap out of people in this Form.
"We have ... present," said the man - possibly a minor Hindu deity, as he has at least six pairs of arms out. A woman standing nearby pulled out and unfolded a piece of fabric so he could see. It was something like a patchwork quilt, inlaid with reflective stones,
A silver angel.
"Oh. Uh. Thank you. That was very nice of you," said Charles. Though he was loathe to take items from beings who did not seem terribly wealthy, he knew it would be offensive to refuse.
"Sa-reel-ji!" said another being.
"Namaste," said Charles, now confronted with a small angel carved from wood. It was elaborately latticed, and you could see inside another, smaller angel.
"Oh, yeah, how nice of you. Yeah, this is really great." Despite himself, he was impressed with the craftsmanship.
"Namaste, Sa-reel-ji!" said another being with a five color wood block print on what looked to Charles like raw silk. (After all, he had been hanging around with Ganesh for a good long while now.) Angel pattern, of course. And here was a white marble slab, inlaid with the pattern of an angel. An angel carved in red sandstone....
Beaming with pride, Ganesh watched as Elias met some new beings. Although in the human world both fathers defended the boy's privacy with a righteous fury, Ganesh was trying to very slowly introduce him to the sphere of supernatural beings. Neither Ganesh nor Sariel (nor indeed Uncle Brahma, who had Named him) quite understood the boy's eventual duties, but for now Ganesh thought it best to take the boy along on these smaller official errands.
Many were now referring to the boy as Bal Brahma, which fortunately quite pleased his usually fusty old Uncle Brahma. Ganesh was terribly impressed that his son seemed to take his duties, minor as they were at this point, so seriously. He remained astounded that the boy never seemed to forget a name. Ganesh would make a quiet introduction, and Elias would return a very small namaste to people, his very loyal puppy thumping his tail for emphasis.
"Uh."
Ganesh turned to the sound of his husband's voice. Although his toddler seemed to bear up fine, Sariel was perpetually quite nearly unstrung by official business. He seemed to much prefer remaining behind the scenes. For anything else, Ganesh would have gladly indulged his beloved partner, but in this case, he found it critical that Sariel be seen clearly and unapologetically at his side.
Ganesh saw Sariel now and struggled mightily not to smile. He almost succeeded. The angel, wings drooping and arms beladen, was struggling under what looked like twice his weight in offerings.
Ganesh gestured to an aide, and a couple of quiet beings unburdened Sariel. "It is terrible how unfriendly they all are," he whispered to Sariel, who shot him a silvery glower. "In future, we shall assign you an aide de camp to take care of, er, gifts."
Sariel was still frowning. “Is there something else, dear?” Ganesh asked.
“Yeah,” said Sariel. “This is weird. I feel like there's something wrong.”
“Something wrong here?”
“No. The band. Something going on with the boys....”
Ganesh was frowning as well. But then Murgatroyd had started barking. "Quiet down now!" Ganesh cautioned, but he felt a tug on his trouser leg.
"Baap! Unky Bishnoo! An da lelefuns!"
"What?" said Ganesh, who looked to the sky. Indeed, a herd of gold and jewel bedecked elephants were descending from the Heavens onto the already crowded street.
"What the fuck is Vishnu doing here?" asked Sariel, openly flapping his wings in irritation.
"He certainly wasn't invited," grumbled Ganesh, who was already striding to the head of the elephant train. A saffron-robed blue god was wafting down from the biggest, most gaudily decorated elephant.
"It's Vishnu, the all-pervading!" shouted the god, waving about a dozen hands to the crowd. "It's time to get is party started!"
"Uncle," said Ganesh, quietly but sternly, his elephant ears flapping in irritation. "How perfectly ... unexpected."
"Ganesha, poppet!" sang the blue god, still waving many hands at the crowd. "How fabulous to see you! Still dragging around your little feathered friend?" he added as Sariel came to stand by Ganesh. Sariel said nothing, simply arching a silver eyebrow.
"We were going to reopen this section of our city," explained Ganesh. "And as I am Lord of Beginnings...."
"Yes, so I heard. Count yourself lucky I caught wind of this ceremony in time! We have a jurisdictional issue, then, love."
"Excuse me?" said Ganesh, narrowing his wise elephant eyes.
"Preservation. That's my schtick, remember?" asked Vishnu, tilting down his rhinestone encrusted designer shades to cast a sly glance at his furious nephew.
"We are reopening,” explained Ganesh, “a new beginning! And I was to discuss micro financing opportunities for merchants...."
"Microfinance? That always leaves 'em laughing. Or we could watch my blue body paint dry. Frankly," Vishnu confided, studying many blue fingernails, "this event is a little dry, don't you think?"
"No," said Ganesh. "In fact I do not think-"
"Could use some showmanship! Like your late, lamented father would have done," Vishnu lamented, placing many hands over his heart.
"Hey, Vishnu," interjected Sariel, as the ground had started to tremble now with Ganesh's ire. "So, you gonna do your usual bit?"
"My usual bit, my darling bird of paradise? I always bring fresh material!" attested Vishnu proudly.
"Guess no one's talked to you about your presentation?" asked Sariel.
"My presentation?"
"The elephants. So that's brand new, huh?" asked Sariel, who was frowning skeptically at the large stomping herd.
"As you know, Sariel, dearest thing, I always make my visitations this way," snapped Vishnu.
"Uh-huh. Very creative," said Charles, stifling a yawn. "Ya know, of it was me.... But I'm not gonna tell you how to manage your shows," he concluded modestly. “I mean, I only managed the biggest death metal band in the world. What do I know?”
"If it was you … what?" asked Vishnu suspiciously.
"Well, you know, spice it up some. Some laser lights. Maybe fireworks. An orchestra playing Thus Sprach Zarathustra. That sorta thing."
"Fireworks? Fireworks? My manifestations are infinite! That would be unseemly!" snorted Vishnu, crossing many many many arms.
"More unseemly than all this elephant dung?" grinned Sariel, as a nearby pachyderm let loose with a generous plop.
Vishnu was just winding up for what no doubt would have been a withering rejoinder, a dozen pointing fingers poised, when he felt a small nudge around his ankles. He leapt back at the sight of the small black creature sniffing at his feet. "Ganesha! Did you bring along your rodent army?"
"That," supplied Ganesh, "is my son's guardian dire wolf."
"Dire wolf?" asked Vishnu. Are you sure you didn't get a chipmunk by mistake?"
"Wunky Bishnoo!" called Elias, who was now also standing nearby.
"Ah, Bal Brahma!" said Vishnu, picking up the boy. "At last a reasonable being in this family."
"Wunky Bishnoo dances, an pretty, an Boonie dance too, an Boonie is Wod a da Dance."
"Wellllll," considered Vishnu, "I usually don't work with kids." Murgatroyd yipped. "Or animals," he said, once again ducking the wolf's sniffs.
"You would like to perform with your uncle? Is that what you would like to do?" Ganesh asked Elias.
"Uh-huh!"
"Hrm," said Ganesh, thoughtfully rubbing his trunk. "Perhaps something simple?" he told Vishnu. “Something traditional, befitting the solemn occasion.”
"Oh, don't worry your floppy ears over this one, pet!" assured Vishnu, "I have the perfect number!" And without waiting for a reply, he turned and, still holding Elias, strode off in a cloud of saffron, his assistants and Murgatroyd nipping at his heels.
"Make a note of this," Vishnu was whispering sotto voce to an aide, a being with the head and tail of a monkey. "Laser lights! Fireworks! Gotta freshen up the show."
"You trust him?" asked Sariel as he and Ganesh watched Vishnu make off with their only son.
"Not in the slightest," sighed Ganesh.
"Ya know, that monkey guy...."
"Hanuman?" asked Ganesh.
"Seems familiar."
"He was for a time serving as an aide to my father. That ended at about the time you and I met." Ganesh was silent for a moment.
"Oh yeah," said Sariel, snapping his fingers. "Nathan went hunting with him! He was impressed. He has this affection for, you know, monkeys."
"I am not certain I much trust Hanuman," Ganesh said very quietly.
"Can't be worse than your brother!"
"Perhaps worse than Pickles' brother, actually."
But before Sariel could reply, music struck up. Hanuman, hanging by his monkey tail from a high battlement on top of the city gate at the end of the street, was speaking into a remote mike.
"Ladiessss annnnn gennnulmennnnn," he announced. "Appearing live live live on our stage, the infinite manifestations of Lord Vishnu the preserver! PlusaspecialappearancebyBalBrahma," he slurred. "Be there be there BE THERE! As he dances selections from Krishna Krush Disco Party 3000."
"WHAT?" shouted Ganesh. "He said he would choose a solemn number!" He strode towards the crowd that had gathered below the gate, Sariel following just behind. However, it was not easy work breaking through the large crowd, which now included not only men, gods and angels but a troupe of elephants.
There was a makeshift stage now underneath the city gate, and Vishnu, along with Elias, had now positioned himself center stage. And, to Ganesh's horror, music - a pumpin disco beat - began to pulse.
Ek dho theen....
Ek dho theen....
You gotta know how to Bharta
Like the Mahabharata
The Alloo Tikki
Tomato Chatni
Om, om om om om, om om om om, om-ma om ma-om
Om
I need someone to help me one time!
Om, om om om om, om om om om, om-ma om ma-om
Om
The music switched to an even faster beat. Vishnu began in dancing to some cheers, and then there was a pause, and even louder cheers.
Nobody can do the Bhindi like Vishnu
Nobody can do the Took like Vishnu
Nobody can do the Vindaloo like Vishnu
Nobody
Nobody
Nobody
Nobody
At this point, Vishnu paused. He regarded Elias. The boy was mimicking his dance steps. It was far less graceful, but to Vishnu's infinite regret, a good order of magnitude cuter. And the adorableness factor was worsened (from Vishnu's point of view at least) when Murgatroyd the puppy squirmed out of the grasp of whatever unlucky aide had been assigned to restrain him and ran onto the makeshift stage, yapping and running around Elias. Elias was now getting 90% of the audience's attention, further firming Vishnu's belief that one should never, ever do kid acts.
The cheers quieted somewhat. Vishnu looked back to the audience and was further annoyed to see that now a herd of unicorns had pushed its way into position just below the stage, blocking the view of his infinite awesomeness with their gaudy horns.
“Wait, everybody, stop the music!” he called. The music obediently silenced. “Who invited this group of raggedy nags? They're hogging the good seats!”
The apparent leader of the group of unicorns, a rather large stallion, whinnied in alarm at the insult.
“Uncle,” warned Ganesh, who, along with Charles, had just attained the stage. “Please be careful,” he said, waving many cautious hands. “These beings are our guests.”
“Guests?” exploded Vishnu. “Is this what the Imperial City has come to?”
The lead stallion bucked in warning.
“UNCLE!” said Ganesh. “Do not insult the unicorns.”
“Unicorns? UNICORNS? Is that what these overgrown My Little Ponies are supposed to be?”
The lead unicorn snorted.
Vishnu crossed many skeptical arms. “Frankly, I've seen better horns in a junior high marching band.”
“UNCLE!” said Ganesh, who now had many hands over Vishnu's mouth. But it was too late. Led by the furious stallion, the insulted unicorns turned and stampeded away from the bandstand, nearly missing the scrambling beings in the audience.
“Well, that's one way to get rid of 'em,” grumbled Charles.
“Sariel!” shouted Ganesh, who had scooped up Elias. “The herd is headed for the busiest streets in the City! We need to stop them! Come on!”
“What the hell are we gonna do?” sighed Charles, who nonetheless ran after Ganesh. “Wait! NO!” he yelled as Ganesh jumped on a motor scooter and revved it up, Elias sitting excitedly in front of him.
“Come along Sariel!” shouted Ganesh again.
Charles muttered a very creative curse under his breath, and then leapt on the back of the scooter just as Ganesh pulled out at top speed. The angel was taken aback as Murgatroyd gracefully leapt into his lap, and then they were four beings weaving through the crowd and into traffic, after the rampaging unicorns.
Ganesh had been correct about the damage the beasts caused in the Imperial City's already chaotic roadways. They had already forced a small, colorfully painted lorry to go crunching into a wall, and overturned a rickshaw, which in turn caused about half a dozen bicyclists to crash. Ganesh zipped in and out of traffic after the unicorns, but trying to steer around the mounting casualties was swiftly turning it into a losing battle.
“I will head them off!” shouted Ganesh. “I know a shortcut!” he said, suddenly taking the bike into a crazy turn off into a narrow alleyway.
“Just try not to kill us!” shouted Charles, trying to hold onto Ganesh while also keeping an apparently delighted, squirming wolf balanced on his lap.
The bike sped up and down narrow alleyways, less than a hand's breadth away from other scooters, pedestrians and the side walls. And then Ganesh took a blind turn, and they were out on a major roadway, now ducking trucks and buses as well as other bikes. Horns everywhere honked in warning.
“Unicowns, Baap!” shouted Elias, pointing ahead.
“Yes, There they are! Up at the next intersection,” agreed Ganesh.
“Ganesh! I got an idea!” said Charles. He skillfully stood up on bike's seat even while the bike was still weaving through traffic, and, clutching Murgatroyd, with a flap of his mighty silver wings was aloft.
The unicorns were charging up a side street, now just meters from a major, very crowded thoroughfare.
But then suddenly the thundering herd clattered to a halt as they beheld before them a vision: a mighty silver angel of vengeance.
Holding a puppy.
"Murgatroyd! Do your thing," said Sariel, letting the small wolf leap from his arms to the ground. The wold pup took off running, corralling the charging beasts in a small whirl of black. Charles remained hovering before the lead stallion, wings spread, holding up his arms, palms outward. "Don't fuck with me," he told the glaring unicorn.
“Good work!” said Ganesh who had just driven up on the scooter.
“Good dob, Daddy!” echoed Elias.
“Yeah, well, anything to get off the back of that fucking death machine,” said Charles.
Ganesh laughed. “I am going back to attend to any injuries along the way. Can you possibly escort our friends back to the ceremonial grounds? They are owed an apology by a certain relative of mine.”
Charles frowned at the glaring stallion. “Yeah. I guess so,” he said.
And so not to much later the beings at the ribbon cutting ceremony were treated to the appearance of a herd of unicorns, a very small puppy nipping at their hooves.
A silver angel riding the lead stallion.
“Vishnu! Get your holy blue ass over here!” Charles shouted.
The god was there, crossing many arms, Hanuman at his side.
“Vishnu. You insulted our honored guests,” said Charles, jumping down from the stallion and flapping his wings in irritation.
“You do know,” tutted Vishnu, “that I know what it communicates for you to appear to me in that Form, Sariel dearest love.”
Charles spread his wings and glared. “Yeah. And by the way, it's Honored Sariel to you.”
Vishnu blinked. He looked nervously to the side, where Hanuman shrugged. Vishnu peered around, squinting over his sunglasses, and saw the many rather sour looks he was now receiving from the crowd.
“I am sorry,” said Vishnu, for Vishnu the All-Pervading may have been vain, but Vishnu was no idiot. “If I have caused you any insult.”
The lead unicorn snorted, apparently satisfied. He ambled off, the herd milling along with him.
There was the whine of a small engine, and Ganesh and Elias came zipping up on the motor scooter. “Have we got things all sorted here?” he inquired, glaring at his uncle.
“I've faced the hoards of Ravana,” grumbled Vishnu, who was still glaring at Charles. “It's nothing to dealing with an ill-tempered angel.”
“Yes, he is my ill-tempered angel,” gushed Ganesh, coming to stand beside Charles.
“And you,” Visnu told Elias. “I will expect you for dance tutoring shortly! We have much to work on. Your showmanship-”
“He upstaged you, Vishnu,” noted Charles.
“Yeah. Never work with kids.” Murgatroyd yipped. “Or dogs,” said Vishnu. And with that, he nodded to Hanuman, and departed.
“You know what?” Charles asked Ganesh.
“No. What?”
“I'm lucky you guys just have a bunch of arms and not multiple assholes. That guy would be intolerable,” he said, pointing a wing at Vishnu.
Ganesh didn't respond, as he was laughing too hard.
Charles frowned at the jewel-inlaid patchwork quilt now unrolled on the dining room table
“I don't understand,” he sighed. “I thought this shit took months.”
Ganesh was in back of him, arms wrapped tightly around his waist. “They worked extra hard for you, darling,” he said, kissing Charles on the neck.
Charles shook his head and sighed again. The image on the quilt was of a silver angel. Riding a unicorn.
“I just think you cannot accept that people adore you,” chuckled Ganesh.
“Ganesh. It's a FUCKING UNICORN,” protested Charles, causing Ganesh to chuckle once more.
“By the hammer of Mjolnir, SARIEL! Thank the gods!”
Both Charles and Ganesh looked over, blinking, as the mighty norse god of thunder had just appeared in their living room.
“Thor? What the fuck?” asked Charles. Since his recent encounter with Dethklok at Wotan's Yule dinner, the Norse god had taken to hanging out at Mordhaus. It seemed to Charles that there was something or other going on between him and Pickles, but quite uncharacteristically, Charles had found that he simply didn't want to know anything else about the relationship. Just as long as Thor didn't let Nathan get hold of his fucking hammer again.
“It's Pickles! He is in grave danger!”
“What is going on, Thor?” asked Ganesh.
Thor did not answer, but instead picked up the television remote and clicked to a news channel.
“...suing for power of attorney over their son, who they say has been brainwashed by the Dethklok cult. Connie, do you have any reaction?”
“This is Connie Conehead, reporting from Mordland. Yes, Pickles the drummer's bitch on wheels mother and gormless father have apparently decided to continue tormenting their celebrity son. They have hired sleazy celebrity lawyer F. Lee Fjordslorn-”
“Wait!” said Charles. “He had a brother?”
“They always have a brother,” sighed Ganesh.
“-And are suing for custody in order to do deprogramming.”
“How can they get custody? Pickles isn't a minor!” protested Charles.
“Connie, how can they get custody? Pickles the drummer is over 21!”
“They bought an expensive lawyer, Dan! F. Lee Fjordslorn is the man who convinced a jury that celebrity murderer Teakettle Branson was doing his victim a favor by solving her dry skin problem.”
“Well, that's true, Connie. Juries are stupid.”
“Juries are full of shit, Dan!”
“Look, Thor,” said Charles, turning down the volume, “tell Pickles not to worry. We'll look into this. As soon as I'm back....”
“You don't understand, Honored Sariel!” said Thor. “I can't tell Pickles!”
“Why not?” asked Ganesh.
“For he is already departed.”
“Gone? Gone where?” asked Charles, his throat suddenly tightening.
“His parents. He has surrendered to them.”
There was no other sound in the room, just his beating heart. Charles forced himself to keep breathing.
There was a hand gripping his shoulder.
“Thor,” said Ganesh. “Go to Valhalla and tell your father we might require his assistance in this matter. We will finish up here and proceed with all haste to Mordhaus.”
Thor nodded and, with a thunder crack, was no longer there.
“I will contact my own legal advisors and see if there are any remedies to this in American law,” Ganesh told Charles. “Unfortunately, as possession is nine tenths of the law, we may have to resort to, er, more radical measures. Sariel? Sariel?”
Charles was staring in to space. “Why the fuck would he do something like that? He hates his fucking parents!”
“No,” said Ganesh quietly. “I do not think that is the case.”
“What?”
“He still desires their love. At least that is my theory. Despite everything. What was it you said the other night? Love is, er, sticky?”
“That was bullshit, Ganesh! That was just me talking.”
“Sariel. We will solve this. Yes?”
Charles gave out a long sigh, but nodded glumly.
“He didn't tell me,” Charles told Ganesh. “Why didn't he tell me?”
“It will be all right, dear. It will be all right.”
Charles missed the gods damned Imperial City.
It was dusty and annoying. But also choked with life.
And Mordhaus.... Well, yeah, it was supposed to be gloomy. But not this kind of gloomy: another kind of gloomy. The good kind.
Really, death metal bands should have more names for gloom. Like Eskimos had all those names for snow.
As Elias quietly played in a corner, sculpting something together out of the modeling clay Raziel had bought him, Charles was half-listening on the phone in his office. He just couldn't seem to focus. “Yeah, Wotan. Phanuel? You think he could help? You sent Raziel? What is she shopping in Purgatory again? Yeah, I agree, it's good quality stuff. Ganesh? Ganesh has got his Ophanim librarians looking into it. Yeah, that's what Ganesh says. No, I appreciate it, I really do. Uh-huh, Thor is here. Naw, I don't need you to kick his godly ass, he's not bothering anyone, and I think the guys appreciate the distraction. Yeah, OK, talk to ya later.”
“CHARLES!”
Charles looked up, half-smiling at the familiar whine. It was Nathan, as well as Skwisgaar. And Thor. He raised an eyebrow, but did not bother to ask why the two half-brothers who despised each other were now apparently in cahoots.
“Where the fuck is Pickles? We need him for rehearsals!” declared Nathan.
“Well, Nathan, as I told you, during band meeting, twenty minutes ago,” (which was about 19 minutes beyond Nathan's retention limit) “we are all doing our utmost to get him back,” said Charles.
“What's an utmouse? Is that like a gerbil?” asked Nathan.
“Oh, I know a rather amusing tale about gerbils!” supplied Thor.
“Ams Ganesh not da Lords of da Gerballs?” asked Skwisgaar.
“Guys!” said Charles. “I'm doing all I can. Ganesh is doing all he can. I was just off the phone with Wotan, and he's doing everything.”
“Did he send Lady Raz to buy shoes?” asked Nathan.
“Uh, actually....” said Charles.
“WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL US THAT?” boomed Nathan. “That's awesome. She'll solve it.”
“She ams da good shopper, dat's true.”
“Yeah, thanks for the vote of confidence,” sighed Charles. “And, uh, you guys have contacted Dick?”
“Dick won't come out of his fucking castle!” said Nathan. “Seriously, I don't know what's gotten into that guy.”
“He ams da wreck-goose!”
“I know a jolly tale concerning a goose and a young maiden!” supplied Thor.
“I mean, he's there in his spooky castle with his guns and a chick, so that's pretty cool,” continued Nathan. “But on the other hand, THAT WAS MY CHICK, so that's not very cool.”
“OK. All right. I'll look into that as well. Anything else?”
“Murderface is being a LITTLE GIRL because Dick isn't around,” ticked off Nathan. “And Toki is BEING A GIRL because that Bert the weird angel dude isn't around.”
“Toki ams always da little girl wit' da girlie problems,” grumbled Skwisgaar.
“But Murderface isn't usually a little girl!”
“No, hims ams usually da big ladyperson.”
“Yeah, that's true. A lady person with a MUSTACHE,” mused Nathan.
“I have a beard!” said Thor.
“Dude, I was totally going to grow a beard. Beards are awesome,” said Nathan as the three of them mysteriously exited the office as suddenly as they had entered it.
Charles leaned over his desk and let his head fall into his hands. Usually he was at his best when things were darkest. He fixed things. That's what he did.
His fingers found one of the drawers to his desk. He opened it, and blindly let his hand drift down. The drawer had a false bottom. He pressed the release, and the panel opened up. He pulled out one of the items there. It was enclosed in a ziploc bag. It was a book: one that appeared to have been badly burned.
The title page was still partially readable: “God is a D-.”
His hand traced over the title page. And then it was balled into a fist, knuckles white.
“Pwesent fo' Daddy!”
Charles looked up. He saw just the top of Elias' head peeking over the desk. The boy was pushing something up on top of it.
It was molded from clay. An angel, riding a unicorn.
Charles shook his head. He reached out. He touched the still wet clay.
He drew back his hand, and looked at his fingertips, now coated in the sticky substance.
Sticky.
"Is.... Is da good pwesent fo' da daddy?" Elias was inquiring.
And then he was gathered up in his father's arms. Just two arms. But held ever so tightly.
"It's a perfect present. It's the best present."
This entry was originally posted at http://tikific.dreamwidth.org/87966.html. Please comment there using OpenID.
Author: tikistitch
Rating: NC -17
Summary: Lord Ganesh and his family go to a dedication ceremony.
Warnings: Angel sechs, annoying mythological creatures.
Notes: Notes after the jump.
Let's get this party started, right.
Sooooo, have you finished your H&G? Hmmmmm?
NO?
THEN WHY ARE YOU READING THIS!
Get writing. I'll wait....
Mythklok: stronger than dirt.
Last time: We went through this universe's version of what happened when Charles was “dead.” Pretty depressing, huh? Sahry, doods.
Charles didn't even flinch as the small Suzuki wove around a slow cyclist to the left while narrowly avoiding the giant tanker truck to the right, only to miss by mere inches an oncoming, ridiculously overcrowded motor bus headed in the opposite direction. Charles turned to watch the bus disappear into the orangey dust, beings clinging off the exits and gripping the overhead luggage rack.
Ganesh, obviously having the time of his existence, bleated on the horn, his large grin in full flush.
"Beep beep!" echoed Elias from his car seat in the back.
Murgatroyd the wolf pup, lacking the power of speech, merely yipped.
"Beep beep!" laughed Ganesh.
"You have a driver, right?" asked Charles, who, sitting in the passenger seat, had long since worn out his right leg from pumping an imaginary brake.
"I have a number of drivers!" enthused Ganesh, jamming on the clutch as they passed a group of at least eighteen colorfully dressed beings on a colorfully decorated tuk tuk, a three wheeled vehicle meant to seat six. "But this is such jolly fun! There is nothing like the roadways in the Imperial City! It's brilliant!"
"Bwiwwian!" giggled Elias.
The puppy barked, thumping its fat little tail on the rear seat cushion.
"Oh, you're not getting him started with the fake British accent thing are you?" grumbled Charles, waving at their son.
"It's not fake!" said Ganesh, who for once didn't seem perturbed by the insult.
"And you don't use any magic?" Charles asked.
"Sariel! Please! That would be cheating!"
The car suddenly lurched to a halt as a flock or True Formed angels - Cherubim, by the looks of them - crossed the street, going from here to there. It seemed to Charles that everyone in the cit had suddenly got the notion that they needed to be somewhere - anywhere - but where they were right now. He decided to distract himself by once again trying to divine some kind of rhyme or reason for traffic flow. The car was definitely right hand drive, but there were also left handed steering vehicles on the road, and many of the three wheelers set the driver in the middle (where he was inevitably accompanied by passengers seated halfway on and halfway off the vehicle on either side).
Traffic seemed to flow on the left hand side of the street, but drivers also made heavy use of the ongoing lane, as well as the side meridian when it suited them. And all bets were off when you came to an intersection, trucks and cars and buses and bicycles and ox carts and three wheeled tuk tuks and scooters all lined up opposite each other waiting to charge. Somehow they always ended up threading through each other, and Charles had not yet seen an accident
.
Ganesh narrowly avoided a scooter which had come barreling into them on the more or less wrong side of the street. The scooter driver skillfully wove around a herd of wild yaks and blasted out of sight.
"I use to tool around in one of those, in my younger days!" said Ganesh.
"Did you?" Charles watched as they sped past an entire family of four arrayed on a small turquoise scooter. The mother, dressed in a fine silk sari, rode side saddle on the back, an infant clinging to her with all the strength in its tiny hands.
"Yes! I took Breagan out once. Thought she was going to murder me afterwards! On the other hand, Lady Raziel found it to be bracing!"
"She would."
Ganesh glanced over at Charles, blinking his eyes appealingly. "I still have that scooter! It's parked in the garage."
"Ganesh. No way. No fucking way."
"No?"
"One of us has to stay alive to bring up the kid, remember? Nothing good can come of riding a scooter."
Ganesh didn't reply, but rather yelled "Madarchod," and leaned on the horn, grabbing at the steering wheel and the shifter. He had very narrowly avoided a group of lovely one-horned white horses which were rather obliviously herding right in the middle of traffic.
"Maddasod!" giggled Elias.
"Elias!" cautioned Charles. "What did we say about Daddy words?"
"Bloody things!" barked Ganesh, waving a fist as a veritable hurricane of honking horns squawked in protest at the unicorns.
"What happened to venerating all living things?" laughed Charles as the traffic
laboriously untangled itself around the ethereal beasts.
"They're a nuisance! A hazard!" groused Ganesh. "And that's not the worst. It just takes the barest insult, and then they're off stampeding! Overly sensitive things."
"How do you insult a unicorn?" wondered Charles.
"Just about anything will do. They ought be herded up! But you can't do it! They're unicorns!" Ganesh's voice dripped with sarcasm.
"Fucking unicorns!" said Charles.
"Yes. Fucking unicorns!" agreed Ganesh.
"Fukkin ooniecowns!"
"ELIAS!" chorused his fathers.
Ganesh returned a polite namaste bow to the doorman and hit the elevator's up button.
"Is this a new building?" Charles asked, as they were in the old section of town.
"Positively ancient! But the interior has been completely refurbished."
"Lemme guess: Penthouse?" asked Charles as they shuffled persons (three), dogs (one) and luggage (many pieces, and mainly Ganesh's winter wardrobe) into the elevator.
"Correct!" said Ganesh. Charles held up Elias to punch the right button, as the child had a prodigious gift for elevator button pushing. Ganesh continued, "I thought we could do with a bit of roughing it, just us three-" As if on cue, Murgatroyd the wolf let out a yip. "I apologize, I mean, us four all together, no servants nor Klokateers."
The elevator doors opened at the top floor, and the group made its way to an old wooden door upon which had been carved many proud elephants. Unsurprisingly, the door opened up to a lovely rooftop villa.
"Roughing it, huh?" Charles muttered to himself. There were wall hangings here that probably could have paid the mortgage on Mordhaus (Mordhaus, in fact, had a mortgage, which is a very interesting story I shan't go into here). He looked at a golden dancing Ganesha statue in the entryway. Being an angel he could immediately tell it was constructed of real gold, solid all the way through.
"Let me show you your room," Ganesh told Elias, who grabbed his little elephant themed backpack and, with Murgatroyd the puppy, scampered after his long-legged father down a hallway.
Charles set down his one roller bag and stood looking out a window over the old section of the Imperial City, out across the river to the skyscrapers on the bank of the river that separated ancient from modern. He put a hand to the cool, smooth countertop: white marble, he noticed, and inlaid with precious jewels unless his angel eyes were deceiving him.
He looked again to the dancing Ganesha statue. Ganesh didn't usually favor images of himself around his living quarters. The statue however was unusual. Instead of the sweet, chubby Ganesha so often depicted by devotees, this sleeker figure looked like it might have been based on Ganesh himself: in the fine metalwork you could see the tensed thigh muscles or his raised leg, and the graceful set of the strong, slim fingers of each hand.
He felt at least one pair of arms wrap around his waist, and Ganesh's breath on his neck. "This your idea of roughing it?" Charles asked.
"Yes!" said Ganesh, not a hint of irony in his voice. "It is perfect for our little family, is it not?”
“Is that your water pipe?” asked Charles, gesturing at an elaborate hookah displayed in one corner. Ganesh, like the rest of his family, enjoyed smoking things that were not tobacco, but Charles had never seen him indulge in that particular vice.
“My father's,” said Ganesh, a small hint of sadness now in his voice.
“Oh, I didn't know,” said Charles.
“He was Lord of Intoxication, did you know that?”
“No, I had no idea. You guys all have lots of jobs.”
“We have many duties, it is true. And now, I must show you the best part of this apartment! Boonie!" There was suddenly the sound of a small stampede thundering down the corridor as Elias and Murgatroyd rushed back out. Wotan had opined that that if the young wolf ever grew up to his paws, which seemed at least a half size too big for him right now, he would be "a monster." Just what we need, thought Charles. He did wonder why the addition of a quite small wolf to the family now often made it sound as if they were now raising a herd of club-footed elephants.
"Come along now, I believe you will like this," said Ganesh, urging them along the corridor to a pair of double doors. The doors were of cut glass, but had the curtains lowered, perhaps for dramatic effect, Charles speculated. He found his speculation proved true as Ganesh threw open the doors to reveal an incredible rooftop garden.
Elias and his dog were off like a shot, running and shouting and yelping. "It's spectacular," confessed Charles, who really didn't know shit about gardening, but recognized quality when he saw it.
"Yes, Uncle Phanuel lend a hand in planting this!" Ganesh bragged. Charles noticed that Ganesh now considered Phanuel part of his extended family. Well, he was Raziel's father, and he and Raziel were more or less cousins.... Charles stopped figuring: he would ask Wotan at some point.
“A lot of trouble to give yourself a place to sneak off for a smoke," laughed Charles.
“It is peaceful, up here, out of the dust,” said Ganesh.
Charles walked over to the low wall at the edge and leaned over just in time to see a fully packed bus nearly miss hitting a milk truck. “Yeah, out of the dust,” he said.
Murgatroyd had picked this time to make his mark in some ornamental shrubbery, so Ganesh had hastened over to point out appropriate and inappropriate rest areas for the dog. Maybe I need to get Ganesh after William Murderface, thought Charles.
The doorbell sounded from inside. "And you see, I have prepared dinner for us!" announced Ganesh. As angel stomachs always tend to want filling, Charles followed Ganesh back inside and to the front door, where awaited a man bearing a rather preposterous number of round metal tins. After the transaction (including a generous tip) had been concluded, Ganesh called his son's name several times, to no avail.
It was Charles' turn to grin. "Hey, Murgatroyd!" he shouted. The small wolf was suddenly at his feet. "Boon!" he ordered. "Fetch Boon!" And then, as Ganesh watched curiously, the puppy gallumphed back out to the garden and skillfully herded their errant son back into the house.
"Impressive!" noted Ganesh.
"I taught him that," bragged Charles. “I'm gonna try him with the band next.”
All beings now crowded around the dining room table to marvel at the delicious smelling containers. Ganesh whipped off each lid with a great deal of dramatic flourish. "Garlic naan!"
"Naan!" repeated Elias, his eyes wide.
"Paneer butter masala," Ganesh continued to more oohs and ahs. "Daal. Alloo partha. Mutter potatoes. Saag. And. Tandoori chicken."
"TANDOORI!" chorused Charles and Elias, who grinned and high fived each other in triumph at getting the crispy, delicious forbidden flesh into Ganesh's residence.
"I find myself surrounded by omnivorous beings," sighed Ganesh. He then directed the assembled crowd in the washing of hands and setting of the table. The adults at last seated themselves, Elias clambered into a seat, and then Murgatroyd belly-flopped into the fourth and final chair and sat, pink tongue lolling at the spread. A stern look and pointing finger from Ganesh, and the dog slipped back to the ground, where he wound himself around Elias' chair leg. Ganesh then spent a fair chunk of the meal warning various offenders against the feeding of table scraps, advice which was blithely ignored by all, including notably Ganesh himself.
Finally, after the very last delicious paneer gravy had been sopped up by the last scrap of naan bread and stuffed into a hungry maw, they retired to the living room for masala tea and sweets. Elias soon became occupied with producing his latest masterpiece on his electronic tablet. Ganesh clicked around the stereo remote, and then excitedly leapt up at a familiar song.
"Come on!" he urged, tugging a somewhat reluctant Charles to his feet.
"One slow dance!" Charles protested.
"We're not in public!" Ganesh scoffed.
“Boon counts! And there's the dog!” noted Charles.
But soon god and angel were following the intricate footwork of the dance.
Ganesh felt a tug at his trouser leg. "Boonie dances too, Baap! Boonie id Lowd a da Dance!"
"All rightie, here we go," laughed Ganesh, grabbing his son and swinging him around.
"Hey, no cutting in," declared Charles.
"You do well, but you are no Lord of the Dance," Ganesh told Charles as he turned his giggling son upside down.
After a few more reels, when various parties were left sprawled over couches and panting, Ganesh pulled out a book and told Charles, "So, why don't you get this one ready for bed, and I'll get the kitchen sorted. I have acquired some appropriate bedtime reading."
Charles frowned at the colorful picture book. "Uh, I think you'll find that this is written in Hindi."
"Do not worry," said Ganesh, breaking out an extra pair or two of arms to clear the table. "I am certain Boonie will help you sound out the more difficult words."
Ganesh stood at the kitchen sink, soaping up the last of the dishes. One advantage of being a god was that you could both wash and rinse. He had thrown off his jacket and shirt to make full use of his extra arms. He had never found a shirt tailored for more than one pair of limbs that suited his tastes. Sariel did not seem to much mind this state of affairs. And in fact, Ganesh now found himself with an amorous angel somehow situated between himself and the kitchen counter.
"Why do you ever wear a shirt?" Sariel was asking him. "I'm gonna take all your shirts and burn them."
"You know then I would only shop for more." Ganesh smiled and, gripping the angel by the waist, lifted him to sit upon the kitchen counter.
"Hey, I'll get all soapy!" protested Sariel, albeit not with much force, as he was speaking into Ganesh's neck.
"I'll do much worse," Ganesh promised. "Is the boy asleep?"
"Yeah, they're both out like a lamp. Only took three and a half goes of your book. Think all the dancing did him in."
"Yes. We will send him to lessons with my Uncle before long." Sariel looked sour, so Ganesh asked, "What is wrong?"
"Vishnu is kind of an asshole."
"Vishnu is a terrific asshole!" said Ganesh. He shook his head. "But it is a political matter of a sort among my family."
"The politics of dancing," muttered Sariel. "You know, Boon's taught the dog to fetch his toys. By name."
"Really? That is terribly impressive.”
"Yeah, but my head is getting all ragged!"
"Sariel! It is not you! Wunge is a soft toy. A well loved one, but a toy nevertheless."
Ganesh leaned back a fraction and placed hands on Sariel's cheeks, gazing at him with the dark-lashed eyes that had melted the steeliest of hearts down to sticky piles of burbling goo on six continents (Ganesh had not yet been to Antarctica).
When he had first encountered the angel - so long ago it now seemed - at one of Uncle's hunts, he had never seen a magical aura quite like. It blazed with power, but was ravaged by pain, by death. Despite his protestations to Lady Raziel that he did not wish a renovation project, he had finally persuaded the angel to throw away his pack of cigarettes and eat nutritious food and just generally stop acting like such a berk. And now the aura had changed to something not so clouded by illness and regret, to something bright and clear and bracing.
And dead sexy.
Ganesh blinked, stirred from his reverie, as he felt a strand of hair being brushed out of his eyes. It stubbornly fell back.
"You ogling my damn aura again?" Sariel grinned, wrapping his legs around Ganesh's waist. Ganesh shrugged. "I can tell, your heart starts beating faster." Ganesh blinked again, but this time with surprise. Angels and their odd supernatural sense of hearing. Since Ganesh had cured Sariel's deafness some time ago, he had acquired almost a sixth sense about certain things. He claimed that no matter where he was, he could actually hear the members of Dethklok. It sounded strange to Ganesh, but he had found it was unwise to doubt an angel.
"I have an idea about the night's entertainment," said Ganesh.
Charles gasped, his body arching.
He spread his thighs wider apart, clamping his legs around Ganesh's, who was sitting beneath him. Ganesh's idea about the night's entertainment turned out to involve a new and rare blend of massage oil. Ganesh already gave the world's most mind blowing hand jobs, but the combination of his soft, skillful hands and the warm prickling of the oil made Charles' nerves crackle from the base of his spine all the way down to his toes.
Ganesh was holding Charles' arms up over his head. It was a gentle grip, and Charles could have easily broken free, but that was the thing about Ganesh, you didn't want to break free from his web, you want to get tangled deeper.
And Ganesh's caresses, so soft and gentle and achingly, agonizingly slow, even when you were really dying for him to get the fuck on with it already. Charles' mind started to drift. It had been a while now, but he remembered making love to a woman, so very different. He remembered the faces, the touch of the skin.
And Ganesh was murmuring in his ear now, telling such lies, about how exquisite he was, and it was all hogwash, but really, you needed to hear more. And Charles remembered the women, and the men, and everyone he'd touched like this, but not like this, from the enchanting Countess to the bloody disaster of his assignations with Eototo....
"You're everyone..... Everyone I've ever touched," he found himself telling Ganesh. Stupid. Stupid and trite, dumb words now hanging there between them.
"Oh, such a sweet thing to say. Such a a lovely thing. My beloved angel," Ganesh whispered back.
Charles relaxed into the soft waves of touching again. Ganesh loved holding him from behind like this, Charles knew. The Hindu god not only had a lust for power, he had a rather deep kink for body hair. He often made snotty remarks about how male models nowadays were a bunch of hairless adolescents. Charles had no clue about this, but luxuriated for a moment in the hands brushing his chest, stroking his thighs. He suddenly smiled and, breaking his arms free of Ganesh's gentle grip, pushed himself back, hard, grinding down into Ganesh's lap.
“Oh, my naughty angel. You know I can't resist that tight ass, don't you?” Ganesh muttered. Ganesh pushed Charles away a fraction and paused to rub himself with the massage oil. Then he grabbed Charles' hips and attempted to pull him down, hard. But Charles stiffened, resisting. And then, taking his own damned time, he lowered himself, as slowly as he could, taking Ganesh's engorged dick into him by agonizing millimeters.
He heard the sigh, and felt Ganesh's fingernails dig into his thighs. He turned his head, and reached one arm back to claim a long, lingering kiss. And then he set back to moving against Ganesh, keeping the torturous slow rhythm.
All at once, Ganesh seemed to come back to himself, and then many hands were upon Charles again, but this time rougher, quicker. Charles let out his own sigh. He was so hard now. Every stroke was exquisite torture. And then Ganesh redoubled his grip on Charles' hips, pulling him down faster and faster. Charles felt himself let out a small scream, and then abandoned himself to his orgasm, suddenly giddy with the release.
He barely noticed as Ganesh suddenly picked him up and placed him back down on his hands and knees, pushing his legs wide apart, grabbing him by the hair and then just fucking him, slamming into him like a madman, frantic and sexy. He finally felt Ganesh come, a pair of arms tight around Charles' belly. And then they were lying together, Ganesh on top, still inside him, breathing together, the only two people in the universe, here alone together.
Ganesh at last pulled out of Sariel. Rolling over to his back, he tugged the angel close to him, gently cleaning him off with a soft towel.
"Sticky," muttered Sariel.
"We might have a good hot shower. In a bit," said Ganesh, who was content for now to just lay quietly against his lover's fine soft skin.
"Our kid is sticky," said Sariel.
"He is often that," laughed Ganesh, placing the towel aside.
"The poets are full of crap."
Ganesh paused at the non sequitur. "Yes?" he finally asked. Sometimes, when he was quite drunk, or a little high, or had just experienced orgasm, Sariel became like another person: himself, but with the weight of the world suddenly dropped away. Light.
"They always compare love to a bunch of flowers and and perfume shit like that. But it's not that. It's sticky,” declared Sariel.
Ganesh gently tilted Sariel's head so the angel was looking at him. "Where is Sariel, and whatever have you done with him?" he smiled.
"Think," muttered Sariel. "Sticky. Maybe it's, uh, you know, metaphorical."
"Mmmm. For sticking together?".smiled Ganesh.
"It's sticky," persisted Sariel.
Ganesh pulled Sariel up to his favorite perch, resting his head on Ganesh's chest. It was evidently a favored spot for angels. Ganesh theorized they craved the sound of the human heartbeat.
Ganesh liked having theories.
"Are you looking forwards to the ceremony tomorrow?" he inquired.
Ganesh could actually feel Sariel's sunny mood start to chill. "Uh. In no way, shape or form," the angel confessed.
"Why not? It shall all be a low key affair."
"I don't think they like me," confessed Sariel.
"Who doesn't like you, dear? My followers positively adore you!"
"Nobody much likes angels. I don't much like angels. And I am a fucking angel."
"Oh, poppycock! You simply need to get more in touch with the earth god part of your nature."
"Yeah, but remember, my Papa is not actually of this earth."
"I really wouldn't worry," hushed Ganesh. "We will simply have a small dedication and some discussion of commerce...."
"What about a traffic safety lecture?"
Ganesh sighed. "The casualty rate on our roadways is inconsequential compared to that of your gardeners."
"Apples to oranges," said Sariel.
"Why is that?"
"Our gardeners have hedge trimmers and wood pulpers!"
"All right, I shall grant you that. Then what about the casualty rate amongst your kitchen staff?" asked Ganesh, his eyes narrowing.
"Carving knives, meat grinders, to say nothing of fire."
"Accounts receivable?" said Ganesh.
"Well, uh," said Sariel. "Those pencils can get pretty sharp!"
Ganesh harrumphed. It sounded not unlike his Uncle Brahma.
Charles hung back, watching Ganesh and Elias.
Ganesh had said it would be a relatively casual affair, so although the god had transformed to his ceremonial elephant head, he was wearing a suit and not his elaborate gold-braided red robes. He had tucked his broken bit of trunk neatly into one jacket pocket like a boutonniere.
Charles was True Formed for the occasion, which only increased his level of discomfort. He disliked his angelic Form as much as he despised being a center of attention. It was true that having Elias took some of the pressure off. As word had spread of what many beings considered a miracle, there grew an intense curiosity about him.
Miracle. Charles scoffed at the word. If Elias was a miracle, then so was Charles. And of course he was no fucking miracle.
They were in a busy avenue in the old part of the city. The street was a bustling marketplace that had sprung out one of the lovely ancient temples there. Unfortunately, the structure had been damaged in the recent war with the angels, and had also suffered the normal ravages of age. This section had all been carefully restored, so Ganesh, as Lord of Beginnings, was there to do a ribbon cutting type deal.
"Namaste, Sa-reel-ji."
Charles turned and politely returned the namaste praying hands-and-little-bow gesture. "Namaste," he said, trying to keep his voice quiet. He was well aware that he often scared the crap out of people in this Form.
"We have ... present," said the man - possibly a minor Hindu deity, as he has at least six pairs of arms out. A woman standing nearby pulled out and unfolded a piece of fabric so he could see. It was something like a patchwork quilt, inlaid with reflective stones,
A silver angel.
"Oh. Uh. Thank you. That was very nice of you," said Charles. Though he was loathe to take items from beings who did not seem terribly wealthy, he knew it would be offensive to refuse.
"Sa-reel-ji!" said another being.
"Namaste," said Charles, now confronted with a small angel carved from wood. It was elaborately latticed, and you could see inside another, smaller angel.
"Oh, yeah, how nice of you. Yeah, this is really great." Despite himself, he was impressed with the craftsmanship.
"Namaste, Sa-reel-ji!" said another being with a five color wood block print on what looked to Charles like raw silk. (After all, he had been hanging around with Ganesh for a good long while now.) Angel pattern, of course. And here was a white marble slab, inlaid with the pattern of an angel. An angel carved in red sandstone....
Beaming with pride, Ganesh watched as Elias met some new beings. Although in the human world both fathers defended the boy's privacy with a righteous fury, Ganesh was trying to very slowly introduce him to the sphere of supernatural beings. Neither Ganesh nor Sariel (nor indeed Uncle Brahma, who had Named him) quite understood the boy's eventual duties, but for now Ganesh thought it best to take the boy along on these smaller official errands.
Many were now referring to the boy as Bal Brahma, which fortunately quite pleased his usually fusty old Uncle Brahma. Ganesh was terribly impressed that his son seemed to take his duties, minor as they were at this point, so seriously. He remained astounded that the boy never seemed to forget a name. Ganesh would make a quiet introduction, and Elias would return a very small namaste to people, his very loyal puppy thumping his tail for emphasis.
"Uh."
Ganesh turned to the sound of his husband's voice. Although his toddler seemed to bear up fine, Sariel was perpetually quite nearly unstrung by official business. He seemed to much prefer remaining behind the scenes. For anything else, Ganesh would have gladly indulged his beloved partner, but in this case, he found it critical that Sariel be seen clearly and unapologetically at his side.
Ganesh saw Sariel now and struggled mightily not to smile. He almost succeeded. The angel, wings drooping and arms beladen, was struggling under what looked like twice his weight in offerings.
Ganesh gestured to an aide, and a couple of quiet beings unburdened Sariel. "It is terrible how unfriendly they all are," he whispered to Sariel, who shot him a silvery glower. "In future, we shall assign you an aide de camp to take care of, er, gifts."
Sariel was still frowning. “Is there something else, dear?” Ganesh asked.
“Yeah,” said Sariel. “This is weird. I feel like there's something wrong.”
“Something wrong here?”
“No. The band. Something going on with the boys....”
Ganesh was frowning as well. But then Murgatroyd had started barking. "Quiet down now!" Ganesh cautioned, but he felt a tug on his trouser leg.
"Baap! Unky Bishnoo! An da lelefuns!"
"What?" said Ganesh, who looked to the sky. Indeed, a herd of gold and jewel bedecked elephants were descending from the Heavens onto the already crowded street.
"What the fuck is Vishnu doing here?" asked Sariel, openly flapping his wings in irritation.
"He certainly wasn't invited," grumbled Ganesh, who was already striding to the head of the elephant train. A saffron-robed blue god was wafting down from the biggest, most gaudily decorated elephant.
"It's Vishnu, the all-pervading!" shouted the god, waving about a dozen hands to the crowd. "It's time to get is party started!"
"Uncle," said Ganesh, quietly but sternly, his elephant ears flapping in irritation. "How perfectly ... unexpected."
"Ganesha, poppet!" sang the blue god, still waving many hands at the crowd. "How fabulous to see you! Still dragging around your little feathered friend?" he added as Sariel came to stand by Ganesh. Sariel said nothing, simply arching a silver eyebrow.
"We were going to reopen this section of our city," explained Ganesh. "And as I am Lord of Beginnings...."
"Yes, so I heard. Count yourself lucky I caught wind of this ceremony in time! We have a jurisdictional issue, then, love."
"Excuse me?" said Ganesh, narrowing his wise elephant eyes.
"Preservation. That's my schtick, remember?" asked Vishnu, tilting down his rhinestone encrusted designer shades to cast a sly glance at his furious nephew.
"We are reopening,” explained Ganesh, “a new beginning! And I was to discuss micro financing opportunities for merchants...."
"Microfinance? That always leaves 'em laughing. Or we could watch my blue body paint dry. Frankly," Vishnu confided, studying many blue fingernails, "this event is a little dry, don't you think?"
"No," said Ganesh. "In fact I do not think-"
"Could use some showmanship! Like your late, lamented father would have done," Vishnu lamented, placing many hands over his heart.
"Hey, Vishnu," interjected Sariel, as the ground had started to tremble now with Ganesh's ire. "So, you gonna do your usual bit?"
"My usual bit, my darling bird of paradise? I always bring fresh material!" attested Vishnu proudly.
"Guess no one's talked to you about your presentation?" asked Sariel.
"My presentation?"
"The elephants. So that's brand new, huh?" asked Sariel, who was frowning skeptically at the large stomping herd.
"As you know, Sariel, dearest thing, I always make my visitations this way," snapped Vishnu.
"Uh-huh. Very creative," said Charles, stifling a yawn. "Ya know, of it was me.... But I'm not gonna tell you how to manage your shows," he concluded modestly. “I mean, I only managed the biggest death metal band in the world. What do I know?”
"If it was you … what?" asked Vishnu suspiciously.
"Well, you know, spice it up some. Some laser lights. Maybe fireworks. An orchestra playing Thus Sprach Zarathustra. That sorta thing."
"Fireworks? Fireworks? My manifestations are infinite! That would be unseemly!" snorted Vishnu, crossing many many many arms.
"More unseemly than all this elephant dung?" grinned Sariel, as a nearby pachyderm let loose with a generous plop.
Vishnu was just winding up for what no doubt would have been a withering rejoinder, a dozen pointing fingers poised, when he felt a small nudge around his ankles. He leapt back at the sight of the small black creature sniffing at his feet. "Ganesha! Did you bring along your rodent army?"
"That," supplied Ganesh, "is my son's guardian dire wolf."
"Dire wolf?" asked Vishnu. Are you sure you didn't get a chipmunk by mistake?"
"Wunky Bishnoo!" called Elias, who was now also standing nearby.
"Ah, Bal Brahma!" said Vishnu, picking up the boy. "At last a reasonable being in this family."
"Wunky Bishnoo dances, an pretty, an Boonie dance too, an Boonie is Wod a da Dance."
"Wellllll," considered Vishnu, "I usually don't work with kids." Murgatroyd yipped. "Or animals," he said, once again ducking the wolf's sniffs.
"You would like to perform with your uncle? Is that what you would like to do?" Ganesh asked Elias.
"Uh-huh!"
"Hrm," said Ganesh, thoughtfully rubbing his trunk. "Perhaps something simple?" he told Vishnu. “Something traditional, befitting the solemn occasion.”
"Oh, don't worry your floppy ears over this one, pet!" assured Vishnu, "I have the perfect number!" And without waiting for a reply, he turned and, still holding Elias, strode off in a cloud of saffron, his assistants and Murgatroyd nipping at his heels.
"Make a note of this," Vishnu was whispering sotto voce to an aide, a being with the head and tail of a monkey. "Laser lights! Fireworks! Gotta freshen up the show."
"You trust him?" asked Sariel as he and Ganesh watched Vishnu make off with their only son.
"Not in the slightest," sighed Ganesh.
"Ya know, that monkey guy...."
"Hanuman?" asked Ganesh.
"Seems familiar."
"He was for a time serving as an aide to my father. That ended at about the time you and I met." Ganesh was silent for a moment.
"Oh yeah," said Sariel, snapping his fingers. "Nathan went hunting with him! He was impressed. He has this affection for, you know, monkeys."
"I am not certain I much trust Hanuman," Ganesh said very quietly.
"Can't be worse than your brother!"
"Perhaps worse than Pickles' brother, actually."
But before Sariel could reply, music struck up. Hanuman, hanging by his monkey tail from a high battlement on top of the city gate at the end of the street, was speaking into a remote mike.
"Ladiessss annnnn gennnulmennnnn," he announced. "Appearing live live live on our stage, the infinite manifestations of Lord Vishnu the preserver! PlusaspecialappearancebyBalBrahma," he slurred. "Be there be there BE THERE! As he dances selections from Krishna Krush Disco Party 3000."
"WHAT?" shouted Ganesh. "He said he would choose a solemn number!" He strode towards the crowd that had gathered below the gate, Sariel following just behind. However, it was not easy work breaking through the large crowd, which now included not only men, gods and angels but a troupe of elephants.
There was a makeshift stage now underneath the city gate, and Vishnu, along with Elias, had now positioned himself center stage. And, to Ganesh's horror, music - a pumpin disco beat - began to pulse.
Ek dho theen....
Ek dho theen....
You gotta know how to Bharta
Like the Mahabharata
The Alloo Tikki
Tomato Chatni
Om, om om om om, om om om om, om-ma om ma-om
Om
I need someone to help me one time!
Om, om om om om, om om om om, om-ma om ma-om
Om
The music switched to an even faster beat. Vishnu began in dancing to some cheers, and then there was a pause, and even louder cheers.
Nobody can do the Bhindi like Vishnu
Nobody can do the Took like Vishnu
Nobody can do the Vindaloo like Vishnu
Nobody
Nobody
Nobody
Nobody
At this point, Vishnu paused. He regarded Elias. The boy was mimicking his dance steps. It was far less graceful, but to Vishnu's infinite regret, a good order of magnitude cuter. And the adorableness factor was worsened (from Vishnu's point of view at least) when Murgatroyd the puppy squirmed out of the grasp of whatever unlucky aide had been assigned to restrain him and ran onto the makeshift stage, yapping and running around Elias. Elias was now getting 90% of the audience's attention, further firming Vishnu's belief that one should never, ever do kid acts.
The cheers quieted somewhat. Vishnu looked back to the audience and was further annoyed to see that now a herd of unicorns had pushed its way into position just below the stage, blocking the view of his infinite awesomeness with their gaudy horns.
“Wait, everybody, stop the music!” he called. The music obediently silenced. “Who invited this group of raggedy nags? They're hogging the good seats!”
The apparent leader of the group of unicorns, a rather large stallion, whinnied in alarm at the insult.
“Uncle,” warned Ganesh, who, along with Charles, had just attained the stage. “Please be careful,” he said, waving many cautious hands. “These beings are our guests.”
“Guests?” exploded Vishnu. “Is this what the Imperial City has come to?”
The lead stallion bucked in warning.
“UNCLE!” said Ganesh. “Do not insult the unicorns.”
“Unicorns? UNICORNS? Is that what these overgrown My Little Ponies are supposed to be?”
The lead unicorn snorted.
Vishnu crossed many skeptical arms. “Frankly, I've seen better horns in a junior high marching band.”
“UNCLE!” said Ganesh, who now had many hands over Vishnu's mouth. But it was too late. Led by the furious stallion, the insulted unicorns turned and stampeded away from the bandstand, nearly missing the scrambling beings in the audience.
“Well, that's one way to get rid of 'em,” grumbled Charles.
“Sariel!” shouted Ganesh, who had scooped up Elias. “The herd is headed for the busiest streets in the City! We need to stop them! Come on!”
“What the hell are we gonna do?” sighed Charles, who nonetheless ran after Ganesh. “Wait! NO!” he yelled as Ganesh jumped on a motor scooter and revved it up, Elias sitting excitedly in front of him.
“Come along Sariel!” shouted Ganesh again.
Charles muttered a very creative curse under his breath, and then leapt on the back of the scooter just as Ganesh pulled out at top speed. The angel was taken aback as Murgatroyd gracefully leapt into his lap, and then they were four beings weaving through the crowd and into traffic, after the rampaging unicorns.
Ganesh had been correct about the damage the beasts caused in the Imperial City's already chaotic roadways. They had already forced a small, colorfully painted lorry to go crunching into a wall, and overturned a rickshaw, which in turn caused about half a dozen bicyclists to crash. Ganesh zipped in and out of traffic after the unicorns, but trying to steer around the mounting casualties was swiftly turning it into a losing battle.
“I will head them off!” shouted Ganesh. “I know a shortcut!” he said, suddenly taking the bike into a crazy turn off into a narrow alleyway.
“Just try not to kill us!” shouted Charles, trying to hold onto Ganesh while also keeping an apparently delighted, squirming wolf balanced on his lap.
The bike sped up and down narrow alleyways, less than a hand's breadth away from other scooters, pedestrians and the side walls. And then Ganesh took a blind turn, and they were out on a major roadway, now ducking trucks and buses as well as other bikes. Horns everywhere honked in warning.
“Unicowns, Baap!” shouted Elias, pointing ahead.
“Yes, There they are! Up at the next intersection,” agreed Ganesh.
“Ganesh! I got an idea!” said Charles. He skillfully stood up on bike's seat even while the bike was still weaving through traffic, and, clutching Murgatroyd, with a flap of his mighty silver wings was aloft.
The unicorns were charging up a side street, now just meters from a major, very crowded thoroughfare.
But then suddenly the thundering herd clattered to a halt as they beheld before them a vision: a mighty silver angel of vengeance.
Holding a puppy.
"Murgatroyd! Do your thing," said Sariel, letting the small wolf leap from his arms to the ground. The wold pup took off running, corralling the charging beasts in a small whirl of black. Charles remained hovering before the lead stallion, wings spread, holding up his arms, palms outward. "Don't fuck with me," he told the glaring unicorn.
“Good work!” said Ganesh who had just driven up on the scooter.
“Good dob, Daddy!” echoed Elias.
“Yeah, well, anything to get off the back of that fucking death machine,” said Charles.
Ganesh laughed. “I am going back to attend to any injuries along the way. Can you possibly escort our friends back to the ceremonial grounds? They are owed an apology by a certain relative of mine.”
Charles frowned at the glaring stallion. “Yeah. I guess so,” he said.
And so not to much later the beings at the ribbon cutting ceremony were treated to the appearance of a herd of unicorns, a very small puppy nipping at their hooves.
A silver angel riding the lead stallion.
“Vishnu! Get your holy blue ass over here!” Charles shouted.
The god was there, crossing many arms, Hanuman at his side.
“Vishnu. You insulted our honored guests,” said Charles, jumping down from the stallion and flapping his wings in irritation.
“You do know,” tutted Vishnu, “that I know what it communicates for you to appear to me in that Form, Sariel dearest love.”
Charles spread his wings and glared. “Yeah. And by the way, it's Honored Sariel to you.”
Vishnu blinked. He looked nervously to the side, where Hanuman shrugged. Vishnu peered around, squinting over his sunglasses, and saw the many rather sour looks he was now receiving from the crowd.
“I am sorry,” said Vishnu, for Vishnu the All-Pervading may have been vain, but Vishnu was no idiot. “If I have caused you any insult.”
The lead unicorn snorted, apparently satisfied. He ambled off, the herd milling along with him.
There was the whine of a small engine, and Ganesh and Elias came zipping up on the motor scooter. “Have we got things all sorted here?” he inquired, glaring at his uncle.
“I've faced the hoards of Ravana,” grumbled Vishnu, who was still glaring at Charles. “It's nothing to dealing with an ill-tempered angel.”
“Yes, he is my ill-tempered angel,” gushed Ganesh, coming to stand beside Charles.
“And you,” Visnu told Elias. “I will expect you for dance tutoring shortly! We have much to work on. Your showmanship-”
“He upstaged you, Vishnu,” noted Charles.
“Yeah. Never work with kids.” Murgatroyd yipped. “Or dogs,” said Vishnu. And with that, he nodded to Hanuman, and departed.
“You know what?” Charles asked Ganesh.
“No. What?”
“I'm lucky you guys just have a bunch of arms and not multiple assholes. That guy would be intolerable,” he said, pointing a wing at Vishnu.
Ganesh didn't respond, as he was laughing too hard.
Charles frowned at the jewel-inlaid patchwork quilt now unrolled on the dining room table
“I don't understand,” he sighed. “I thought this shit took months.”
Ganesh was in back of him, arms wrapped tightly around his waist. “They worked extra hard for you, darling,” he said, kissing Charles on the neck.
Charles shook his head and sighed again. The image on the quilt was of a silver angel. Riding a unicorn.
“I just think you cannot accept that people adore you,” chuckled Ganesh.
“Ganesh. It's a FUCKING UNICORN,” protested Charles, causing Ganesh to chuckle once more.
“By the hammer of Mjolnir, SARIEL! Thank the gods!”
Both Charles and Ganesh looked over, blinking, as the mighty norse god of thunder had just appeared in their living room.
“Thor? What the fuck?” asked Charles. Since his recent encounter with Dethklok at Wotan's Yule dinner, the Norse god had taken to hanging out at Mordhaus. It seemed to Charles that there was something or other going on between him and Pickles, but quite uncharacteristically, Charles had found that he simply didn't want to know anything else about the relationship. Just as long as Thor didn't let Nathan get hold of his fucking hammer again.
“It's Pickles! He is in grave danger!”
“What is going on, Thor?” asked Ganesh.
Thor did not answer, but instead picked up the television remote and clicked to a news channel.
“...suing for power of attorney over their son, who they say has been brainwashed by the Dethklok cult. Connie, do you have any reaction?”
“This is Connie Conehead, reporting from Mordland. Yes, Pickles the drummer's bitch on wheels mother and gormless father have apparently decided to continue tormenting their celebrity son. They have hired sleazy celebrity lawyer F. Lee Fjordslorn-”
“Wait!” said Charles. “He had a brother?”
“They always have a brother,” sighed Ganesh.
“-And are suing for custody in order to do deprogramming.”
“How can they get custody? Pickles isn't a minor!” protested Charles.
“Connie, how can they get custody? Pickles the drummer is over 21!”
“They bought an expensive lawyer, Dan! F. Lee Fjordslorn is the man who convinced a jury that celebrity murderer Teakettle Branson was doing his victim a favor by solving her dry skin problem.”
“Well, that's true, Connie. Juries are stupid.”
“Juries are full of shit, Dan!”
“Look, Thor,” said Charles, turning down the volume, “tell Pickles not to worry. We'll look into this. As soon as I'm back....”
“You don't understand, Honored Sariel!” said Thor. “I can't tell Pickles!”
“Why not?” asked Ganesh.
“For he is already departed.”
“Gone? Gone where?” asked Charles, his throat suddenly tightening.
“His parents. He has surrendered to them.”
There was no other sound in the room, just his beating heart. Charles forced himself to keep breathing.
There was a hand gripping his shoulder.
“Thor,” said Ganesh. “Go to Valhalla and tell your father we might require his assistance in this matter. We will finish up here and proceed with all haste to Mordhaus.”
Thor nodded and, with a thunder crack, was no longer there.
“I will contact my own legal advisors and see if there are any remedies to this in American law,” Ganesh told Charles. “Unfortunately, as possession is nine tenths of the law, we may have to resort to, er, more radical measures. Sariel? Sariel?”
Charles was staring in to space. “Why the fuck would he do something like that? He hates his fucking parents!”
“No,” said Ganesh quietly. “I do not think that is the case.”
“What?”
“He still desires their love. At least that is my theory. Despite everything. What was it you said the other night? Love is, er, sticky?”
“That was bullshit, Ganesh! That was just me talking.”
“Sariel. We will solve this. Yes?”
Charles gave out a long sigh, but nodded glumly.
“He didn't tell me,” Charles told Ganesh. “Why didn't he tell me?”
“It will be all right, dear. It will be all right.”
Charles missed the gods damned Imperial City.
It was dusty and annoying. But also choked with life.
And Mordhaus.... Well, yeah, it was supposed to be gloomy. But not this kind of gloomy: another kind of gloomy. The good kind.
Really, death metal bands should have more names for gloom. Like Eskimos had all those names for snow.
As Elias quietly played in a corner, sculpting something together out of the modeling clay Raziel had bought him, Charles was half-listening on the phone in his office. He just couldn't seem to focus. “Yeah, Wotan. Phanuel? You think he could help? You sent Raziel? What is she shopping in Purgatory again? Yeah, I agree, it's good quality stuff. Ganesh? Ganesh has got his Ophanim librarians looking into it. Yeah, that's what Ganesh says. No, I appreciate it, I really do. Uh-huh, Thor is here. Naw, I don't need you to kick his godly ass, he's not bothering anyone, and I think the guys appreciate the distraction. Yeah, OK, talk to ya later.”
“CHARLES!”
Charles looked up, half-smiling at the familiar whine. It was Nathan, as well as Skwisgaar. And Thor. He raised an eyebrow, but did not bother to ask why the two half-brothers who despised each other were now apparently in cahoots.
“Where the fuck is Pickles? We need him for rehearsals!” declared Nathan.
“Well, Nathan, as I told you, during band meeting, twenty minutes ago,” (which was about 19 minutes beyond Nathan's retention limit) “we are all doing our utmost to get him back,” said Charles.
“What's an utmouse? Is that like a gerbil?” asked Nathan.
“Oh, I know a rather amusing tale about gerbils!” supplied Thor.
“Ams Ganesh not da Lords of da Gerballs?” asked Skwisgaar.
“Guys!” said Charles. “I'm doing all I can. Ganesh is doing all he can. I was just off the phone with Wotan, and he's doing everything.”
“Did he send Lady Raz to buy shoes?” asked Nathan.
“Uh, actually....” said Charles.
“WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL US THAT?” boomed Nathan. “That's awesome. She'll solve it.”
“She ams da good shopper, dat's true.”
“Yeah, thanks for the vote of confidence,” sighed Charles. “And, uh, you guys have contacted Dick?”
“Dick won't come out of his fucking castle!” said Nathan. “Seriously, I don't know what's gotten into that guy.”
“He ams da wreck-goose!”
“I know a jolly tale concerning a goose and a young maiden!” supplied Thor.
“I mean, he's there in his spooky castle with his guns and a chick, so that's pretty cool,” continued Nathan. “But on the other hand, THAT WAS MY CHICK, so that's not very cool.”
“OK. All right. I'll look into that as well. Anything else?”
“Murderface is being a LITTLE GIRL because Dick isn't around,” ticked off Nathan. “And Toki is BEING A GIRL because that Bert the weird angel dude isn't around.”
“Toki ams always da little girl wit' da girlie problems,” grumbled Skwisgaar.
“But Murderface isn't usually a little girl!”
“No, hims ams usually da big ladyperson.”
“Yeah, that's true. A lady person with a MUSTACHE,” mused Nathan.
“I have a beard!” said Thor.
“Dude, I was totally going to grow a beard. Beards are awesome,” said Nathan as the three of them mysteriously exited the office as suddenly as they had entered it.
Charles leaned over his desk and let his head fall into his hands. Usually he was at his best when things were darkest. He fixed things. That's what he did.
His fingers found one of the drawers to his desk. He opened it, and blindly let his hand drift down. The drawer had a false bottom. He pressed the release, and the panel opened up. He pulled out one of the items there. It was enclosed in a ziploc bag. It was a book: one that appeared to have been badly burned.
The title page was still partially readable: “God is a D-.”
His hand traced over the title page. And then it was balled into a fist, knuckles white.
“Pwesent fo' Daddy!”
Charles looked up. He saw just the top of Elias' head peeking over the desk. The boy was pushing something up on top of it.
It was molded from clay. An angel, riding a unicorn.
Charles shook his head. He reached out. He touched the still wet clay.
He drew back his hand, and looked at his fingertips, now coated in the sticky substance.
Sticky.
"Is.... Is da good pwesent fo' da daddy?" Elias was inquiring.
And then he was gathered up in his father's arms. Just two arms. But held ever so tightly.
"It's a perfect present. It's the best present."
This entry was originally posted at http://tikific.dreamwidth.org/87966.html. Please comment there using OpenID.