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By The Gods!
By FaceTheCitizen | Edited by aviel | 1st October, 2015 | 6:19 am | The Moped Insurgency

The Moped Insurgency
At the Edge of Reality, below the roots of the World Tree, above the River of Life, the sixteen gods sat around a white wooden table, a table which was as large as a continent. Cups the size of mountains contained drinks the size of oceans. Whenever a god finished his drink, a scantily clad maiden would refill the cup. The sound of the drink moving from the pitcher to the cup was the sound of millions and millions of waterfalls.

It was a rare occasion for the gods to gather like this. When such a thing happened, it was because their very existence was threatened.

This meeting was called for that very reason.

"I'm telling you, ass-nuggets!" Strum, God of Storms, spoke. "This shit right here is fucked up."

"Shut up, faggot," Gutteh, God of War, said. "Y'all just being pussies. Gutteh will take care of this mofo."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Helios, Sun God, said. "Do not underestimate this threat, Gutteh. The Black Wolf has devoured entire stars with a single bite. If you truly believe he is not a threat, then bitch, you cray."

Gutteh stood up abruptly, his chair flying across the room. "Call me bitch one more time, motherfucker!"

"Enough, Gutteh." Ironholm, Father of the Gods, raised his hand. "Don't get your panties in a twist." He turned to Blus, God of Knowledge. "What's the situation?"

"We're screwed."

"How badly screwed?"

"Like, if you're a teenager and you got your cousin pregnant screwed. That screwed. So screwed, you can't get back from it."

"It can't be that bad."

"It is, daddy-o."

Ironholm sighed. He looked up and asked his father, Grandfather of the Gods, for help. "Father? Do we stand a chance against the Black Wolf, Devourer of Stars?"

The roots above them moved. A face emerged from the bark of the tree and, though millions of miles away, it still appeared enormous before them. The size of a planet, brighter than any sun, so bright that it was blinding even to gods.

With a voice so loud its vibrations could pummel galaxies into oblivion, Iraiha, Grandfather of the Gods, Bringer and
Taker of life, gave Ironholm the response he most dreaded to hear.

"NAH, NIGGA."

Tags: Fiction 17


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