Divine Misfortune

Syph said, “So these two men… did they happen to mention the name of their god?”

“Gorgoz. Why? Ever heard of him?”

“No. Can’t say the name rings a bell.”

The impatient grumbling from the crowd had been growing steadily louder.

“We both know I can’t throw you out of here,” said Bo

She half-expected to be blasted to dust by the wrathful goddess, but Syph merely nodded. “Of course.”

“We’ll work out the scheduling arrangements in more detail later,” said Bo

Syph gave another slight nod. But this one warned Bo

“I’ll be home late. Have fun helping people fulfill their spiteful natures.”

Syph raised her teacup. “I always do.”

21

Teri wasn’t any good at waiting. It had been one of the things Phil liked about her. While he had been trying to figure the best way to ask her out on their first date, she’d shown up at his dorm room with an order of Chinese food and a DVD of Logan’s Run. He hadn’t fallen in love with her at just that moment, but he had started down the path. Later, after he’d learned that she’d done some research to know that Chinese food and sci-fi were the key to his heart and that she didn’t like Chinese food or Michael York, Phil knew he’d end up marrying her. That was the way she was. She wasn’t the kind of person to wait around for someone else to do what she could do perfectly well on her own. Most of the time that worked in her favor.

Not today. They were marked for death by a mad god, and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it except wait in their house and hope either Divine Affairs or Lucky solved the problem.

Teri read a book, watched some television, read another book, and did some light chores. She vacuumed. Twice. She washed the dishes by hand even though they had a dishwasher. And she dusted every nook and cra

“Why? It should be part of the protective shrine, right? It’s part of the house.”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “Maybe.”

“What’s going to happen? I’m going to get smote in my own backyard?”

“It could happen,” he said. “Maybe.”

She flopped down next to him on the couch.

“I hate this.”

“I know.”

“I really hate this.”

He put his arm around her. “I know.”

“We’re almost out of toilet paper,” she said.

“Maybe you could call Janet. She could bring us some.”

“I can’t do that. What if that puts her in danger?”

“It’s probably not dangerous, honey.”

“Then why didn’t you suggest any of your friends do it?”

“Janet is dating Lucky. It stands to reason that she’s already a bit of a target in this mess. And since she is dating a god of good fortune, I have to assume she’s well protected.”

“I hate it when you make sense when I’m pissed off.”

“I know you do. That’s why I try not to make it a habit.”

She kissed him, tousled his hair. Then went and made the phone call.

Janet arrived two hours later with several bags of supplies. She had to unload them all from her car herself since Teri and Phil couldn’t safely step beyond the threshold of their front door. Teri and Janet unpacked the groceries. Phil stayed in the living room, playing video games. He would’ve helped, but he knew Teri needed time to vent.

“Ta-da.” Janet made a sweeping supermodel gesture at a brand-new twenty-four-pack of toilet paper.

“Damn,” said Teri, “just how long do you think we’re going to be stuck in here?”

“I just assumed better safe than sorry.”

“Jeez, there has to be three cubic feet of Hot Pockets here.”

“Sorry about that,” said Janet. “But I wasn’t really sure if you liked to cook or not. So how are you holding up?”

“How do you think I’m holding up? Your boyfriend totally screwed us over.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” said Janet.

“He’s not? Then I suppose that necklace is just something you had laying around.”

Janet ran her fingers over the raccoon-headed emblem. “Okay, so maybe he’s more than just a fling. But I wouldn’t go so far as to call him my boyfriend.”

Teri smirked. “If that makes you feel better.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“What do you think I mean by that?” Teri opened the freezer and began theorizing on the complex geometric principles necessary to fit all the frozen meals in the limited space available.

“Oh, no,” said Janet. “You don’t get away with that. Not when I risked life and limb to bring you the creature comforts.”

Teri, wryly gri

“I’m a terrible bomb shelter shopper. I admit it. Happy?” said Janet. “But you’ve been against me dating your god from the start. So why are you acting all smug about it now?”

Teri extracted a tinfoil lump from the freezer. She couldn’t remember what it was, though it didn’t smell quite right. Like year-old meatloaf or halibut gone bad or maybe stale melted plastic. She pondered peeling back the foil and revealing the mystery, but decided her sanity wasn’t in a state for any more surprises. She threw it in the garbage.

“Go ahead,” said Janet.

The mystery foil had derailed Teri’s train of thought. It took her a few seconds to catch up to the conversation.

“You’re just dying to tell me I told you so,” said Janet. “So do it already.”

Teri laughed. “Damn, you really don’t get it, do you?”

“Get what?”

“I was wrong,” said Teri, “about you and Lucky.”

“You’re saying it’s a good idea now?”

“Oh, hell, no. Terrible idea. Horrible idea. Gods and mortals should not date. That’s just obvious.”

Teri paused, holding up a six-pack of off-brand banana-and-chocolate soda pop.

“It’s delicious,” said Janet.

“Then you take it.”

“Maybe I will.” Janet grabbed the pack, peeled off a can, and popped it open. After taking a sip, she calmly walked over to the sink and spit it out. She stuck her tongue under the ru

“Uh-hmm.” Teri smirked again.

“You don’t wear smug well,” said Janet.

“I think you wear everything well, honey,” said Phil as he entered the kitchen.

“Thank you, baby. Here, have a Hot Pocket.”

“You’re too good to me,” he said.

“I know.”

Janet and Teri put the conversation on hold until Phil had zapped his snack in the microwave and returned to the living room.

“Lucky is banana-and-chocolate soda,” explained Teri. “Or at least, he was supposed to be.”

“I hate metaphors,” said Janet.

“Too bad. Because you’re going to have to listen to this one.” Teri took the remaining five cans of soda and put them in front of Janet. “This is what you do. Pop open a banana-and- chocolate soda. Sure. Why not? Maybe you’ll love it. Maybe not, but hey, let’s give it a shot. What do you have to lose?”

“You’re losing me.”

“No interruptions, please.” Teri pushed the cans forward. “But here’s the thing. Maybe you kind of like the soda because it’s new and different and at least you can say you had the experience. But, ultimately, you know that banana-and-chocolate soda isn’t going to become your favorite soft drink. Even if you drink the entire six-pack, the odds you’ll ever buy another six-pack are minuscule. And that’s assuming that they’ll even keep making the soda, which is highly unlikely also.

“Dating gods is just the same. It’s a new experience, good for a story and a chuckle. But you don’t plan on doing anything more. And if by some chance you do develop some feelings, you know the god will take off before it gets serious.”