Day Nineteen – Andrew Lost His Keys While George is Engulfed in Flames


On the third day, the grand and omnipotent entity known as Va’alamyr walked the grounds of his creation. He reveled in the squeakiness of the wet grass beneath his bare feet. He turned his eyes to the blinding sun he had created two days earlier and saw that it was good. The trees were coming along nicely, and, as the god stood there, several woodland creatures of his design scampered up to sniff his robes.

Va’alamyr was pleased with himself, and he spent the good part of that third day just walking the green fields of his ultimate design. The god swam in the waters of the vasts seas he called into being across a good part of the small planet. He marveled at his own ingenuity as he held a shell in his hands. A beaming smile broke his typically somber face as a flock of birds soared over his head.

Everything was in perfect harmony, a perpetuity of order that would go on forever. Va’alamyr sat upon a rock at the pinnacle of a high mountain and surveyed his handiwork. Only the sound and caress of the wind shared the moment with him in that moment.

And so, the voice behind him scared the shit out of the god.

“Oi,” the voice said. “Bit borin’ innit?”

Va’alamyr struggled to prevent himself from sliding down the side of the mountain as he gaped at the entity who had spoken to him.

“Wotcher self there,” the entity said to him, quickly moving to help the startled god. “Nearly took a nasty spill, dincha?”

“What art thou?” Va’alamyr demanded in his most holy booming voice. “How dost thou come to exist in this place without my knowledge?”

The other entity had two arms and two legs, a head full of jet black hair, and a clever mustache. He was very much almost sort of the spitting image of Va’alamyr himself, only Va’alamyr preferred his flowing white beard to match his flowing white robes. This stranger wore a Tubeway Army t-shirt, dirty jeans, and a pair of poorly crafted Skechers (though Va’alamyr did not know what these articles of clothing were called).

“Oh deary me, but you ‘ave got a way with words, eh?” the stranger replied, clucking his tongue. “All ‘igh n’ mighty, I ‘spect. A right bloody proper god ‘n all, eh? Come off it, ’nuff with the pompous words.”

Va’alamyr blinked his eyes in confusion for a moment, before abruptly attempting to make the stranger vanish by his will.

“Nice try, old bean,” the stranger laughed. “Look, I might as well introduce myself. I’m Evil.” The strange man offered his hand for Va’alamyr to shake, but the white bearded god merely looked at the filthy hand in horror.

“I don’t understand,” Va’alamyr stammered. “I thought–”

“You thought you was the only, eh?” Evil said with a grin. “Infinite universe, and you, all ‘igh and mighty as you were, figgered it’s all just you and yer lonesome to create and pontificate as it pleases you, eh? Bit pretentious that, innit?”

“Wotcha call this we’re sitting on?” Evil asked, patting the rock of the mountain beneath their feet.

“I had not thought of a word for it,” Va’alamyr said, taken off guard. “Why does it need to be called something?”

“Everyfing needs a name,” Evil said. “Let me ‘elp. I fink it should be called a mountain. Howzat?”

Va’alamyr straightened up and boomed at the stranger, “I demand to know where you came from, and why you are here in my realm!”

“Bloody ‘ell, mate,” Evil said wiggling a finger in his ear. “Pop an eardrum wif all that shoutin’. Whatsit matter why I’m ‘ere or where I comes from? Let’s just say I’m ‘ere to ‘elp you out. And, boy, let me tell you plain ‘n proper, you need it, mate.”

Va’alamyr was about to protest when it appeared that his curiosity had suddenly taken over him. “What — what do mean, exactly? Is this not … good?”

Evil beamed at him. “Oh, it is. And that’s the rub.” The mustachioed stranger grabbed Va’alamyr by the arm and began dragging him down the mountain. “For starters, it’s always so bleedin’ bright. Watch this.” As they walked, one being led by the other, huge billowing thunderclouds rushed in from the horizons and filled the sky, blocking out the sun.

Va’alamyr grimaced at the invasion and was about to protest when Evil turned around suddenly and asked, “Look, this’ll take forever. Can’t you just zap us down somewheres else?”

Within the blink of an eye, both entities were standing just outside a small copse of trees. At a wave of Va’alamyr’s hand, the clouds dissipated and the sun returned.

Evil frowned at this, but let it go. “Right, well, take a look at these fings,” Evil said, gesturing at one of the cute and cuddly woodland creatures that had come running up to them. “Whatsit do?”

“It lives,” Va’alamyr explained. “I will it to live, and it does so.”

“What, forever?” Evil queried.

“Well, yes, of course,” Va’alamyr replied, confused that there would even be a question about something as simple as life.

“Well, that’s borin’, innit,” Evil retorted. “Watch this.”

The creature Evil had been pointing to abruptly collapsed in the grass and ceased to breathe.

“What have you done?” Va’alamyr exclaimed. “You have made it cease to live!”

“Yeah, killed it,” Evil said frankly. “Necessary for progress, old chap.”

“Progress?” Va’alamyr replied, his face melting with sorrow for the loss of his creation.

“Oh, get over it, mate,” Evil said, waving the incident away. “Stuff staying the same is borin’. Fings need to change, and to change, fings need a reason to change, like mortality, ’cause who wants to just exist so they can die?”

Va’alamyr was not paying attention to the invader who had brought death to his realm. Gently, he reached down and cradled the dead creature in his hands. Somberly, the god blew a mouthful of breath at the limp body. After a moment, the creature began to stir, life returning to it. The smile on Va’alamyr’s face suddenly turned to horror as from out of the sky, a hawk swooped down and snatched the reborn creature away.

Furious, Va’alamyr spun on Evil. “How dare you make a mockery of the world I have created!”

“Nice one, eh? Look, mate,” Evil said frankly. “You definitely ain’t the only conjurer in this biz. Like I said, this little universe ain’t the only one there is, and you ain’t the only bloke out in the great wooly void making pretty li’l rocks and furries and shit. I’ve been doin’ this for nigh on eternity. I’m what you might call a consultant to the creators.”

Va’alamyr’s left eyebrow raised slightly.

“It’s not so much that this is all rubbish,” Evil explained. “It’s just that it can be better. And, if you let me ‘elp you, we can create the best bit of fluff the multiverse ‘as ever seen. Dig?”

“I’m quite happy with what I’ve done here,” Va’alamyr replied, raising his chin slightly. “I see nothing wrong with it.”

Conspiratorially, Evil put his arm around Va’alamyr and whispered, as if others might hear, “Fact is, mate, the other creators are having a bit of a laugh at you. ‘Ere you are, out ‘ere all alone and playing wif yer bits of fluffy ‘appiness, and the rest of the creators are bustin’ out yuge masterpieces of glorious beauty. They’re outdoing you by miles, old chum. You’re a laughing stock.”

Mortified, Va’alamyr tugged anxiously at his beard. He did not even realize there were others like him beyond the void, and now they were making fun of him?

“Relax, old bean,” Evil comforted, patting his shoulder. “Let me ‘elp you.”

“Would you?” Va’alamyr asked desperately. “Only, I do not wish to be seen in a poor light compared to the others.”

“Ain’t it always the way?” Evil chuckled. “Not to worry, Val. We’ll do this up right.”

Evil led Va’alamyr to an open field where the grass was growing at an alarming rate.

“Let’s start right ‘ere,” Evil said, pointing to the the grass. “There’s too much of it. Way too much of this grass shit you’ve got everywhere.”

“I will remove it then,” Va’alamyr replied raising his hands to cause a portion of the grass to vanish.

“‘Old on, ‘old on,” Evil exclaimed, grabbing Va’alamyr’s arms in exasperation. “You don’t ‘ave to be waving yer arms about all the time wasting yer powers. Why not let nature take care of it?”

Evil snapped his fingers, and suddenly, a dozen sheep appeared around them. Immediately, the sheep began to eat the grass. Within moments, the small hill they were standing on was sheared down to nearly nothing, and the sheep kept going.

“But they’ll devour it all,” Va’alamyr said in anger. “They eat all of it until there’s nothing left.”

“Wait for it,” Evil replied, raising a hand. “Next, you need predators.”

Snapping his fingers, Evil conjured up a pack of wolves, which then ravenously dashed after the sheep, who were already beginning to multiply.

In horror, Va’alamyr grabbed his head with both hands. “The carnage! They’ll devour them all!”

“See, now we’ve got to be clever, eh?” Evil replied confidently. Holding out a hand, he gestured for Va’alamyr to look at what he held.

“I don’t see anything,” Va’alamyr said, shaking his head.

“Microscopic,” Evil said, grinning evilly. “It’s a virus. See, when I toss this into the grass, it’ll multiply a ‘ell of a lot faster than those sheep or those wolves. It won’t ‘urt the sheep, but it’ll damn near decimate the predators. The sheep’ll eat the grass, catch the virus, then pass it on to the wolves when the wolves eat ’em. Then them wolves’ll die, right? Brilliant, eh? It’s all circles in creation these days, next big thing, cycles and shit.”

“I suppose that makes sense,” Va’alamyr replied reluctantly. “But why the violence? Why not just let everything live in harmony, perpetually forever?”

“I told you, mate, it’s borin’,” Evil explained. “Death makes fings interesting. These creations of yours, now that they can die, will do whatever it takes to survive. In doing so, they’ll get smarter, faster, and more resilient. The wolves’ll develop an immunity to the virus, but the sheep’ll ‘ave flourished so much by then that there will never be enough wolves to cull them all, just enough to keep the balance, you see?”

“I think I do,” Va’alamyr said, nodding his head. “But doesn’t this take me out of the equation? Once this is all set in motion, what place do I have in this world?”

Evil’s smile grew exponentially. “Well, that’s the thing. Even gods need to die.”

With a casual thrust, Evil slipped the black blade he had been hiding into the celestial flesh of the great and omnipotent Va’alamyr. The god died with his eyes wide and full of fear, sputtering his last breaths.

“‘Urt a bit, dinnit?” Evil cooed at him. “There, there, old bean. Settle down for a nice eternal nap, eh?”

Evil let the limp body fall to the ground. Using the same blade, Evil cut into the god’s chest and broke off two ribs. Casting them to the ground, he began to hum. The vibrations grew tumultuous, shaking the ground for miles around him. Dirt from the ground began to gather around the ribs, forming two separate shape not unlike Evil’s own form.

The humans rose from the dirt and looked at their creator.

“Have fun, kiddoes,” Evil said to them. He then blinked out of existence, on his way to another universe and another creator.

3 thoughts on “Day Nineteen – Andrew Lost His Keys While George is Engulfed in Flames

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