the gods have come to earth, they are not
celestial or angelic. they have snotty noses
and won’t do what they are told. they stomp
about and destroy cities, eat too much chocolate
and refuse to listen to reason. they are highly
excitable and love stories and music. they
demand as many as you can tell, they love
to be given presents. they love wearing
brightly coloured clothes, anything that
is shining gold, hot pink, vivid blue. they
will rip you apart if you don’t give them what
they want, chop your head off, pull your guts
out with a spoon, eat your heart. yet they
are capable of acts of incredible warmth and love,
and there is something touching about their
pyschopathic naivity. they love to be told stories
about themselves especially, ones in which
they kill giants and find treasure. they get very
taken with such stories and interrupt and want to
argue with the characters or act them out with puppets.
they don’t like to play the bad guy.
you have to put them to bed at night and they don’t want to go.
they demand songs and prayers and more stories. but once they
settle, and you see them falling into a deep and guiltless sleep, you realise how much you love them.