Lucky stood on the porch. He didn’t have any luggage.
“Hey, buddy. What’s up?”
Phil knelt. Not easy to do with his bruised hip. He prostrated himself, trying to get his head lower than Lucky’s. That wasn’t easy either.
“Oh, Great and Merciful Luka, Lord of Prosperity and Good Fortune. We have wronged you and humbly beg your forgiveness—”
“Knock it off, kid.”
Phil dared to raise his head. Lucky smiled at him.
“Get up. I appreciate the old-school supplication, but it’s not necessary.”
“Does that mean you’ve unsmote us?”
“I never smote you in the first place.”
“But since you left we’ve had nothing but—”
“I could go for a pizza. Want to grab a pizza?”
“I am a little hungry,” said Phil. “But my car has four flat tires.”
“No problem. I’ll fly us there.”
Lucky snapped his fingers. A shining globe wrapped around them, and Phil was lifted off the ground to zip over the city. Lucky surveyed the landscape, quickly spotting a cheesy themed pizzeria designed to appeal to children. Since it was a weekday and school was in session, the place was empty. The globe of light pushed through the front doors and deposited Lucky and Phil at the front counter.
“So what do you like on your pie? I’m partial to anchovies myself.”
Lucky surveyed the menu posted behind the clerk, who was festooned in a bright yellow-and-blue uniform with a name tag proclaiming him Gary.
“Sir,” said Gary, “I’m afraid animals aren’t allowed in here.”
“Hold on a second.” Lucky searched through his pockets and produced a standard-issue deity identification card. Gary gave it a cursory inspection.
“Your order, sir?” he asked.
“We’ll take a large pie, extra anchovies.”
“We no longer carry anchovies, sir.”
“Check in the back. I have a feeling you’ll find an old tin behind the canned pepperoni.”
“We use only the freshest ingredients, sir,” said Gary.
Lucky chuckled. “Just do me a favor and check. I’ll also take a large cola and a side salad. Get whatever else you want, Phil. I’ll be over by skeeball.”
After he walked away, Gary asked, “Is that your god? Or is it just some god you know?”
“Mine.”
“And he hangs out with you? That’s pretty cool. My family gods just send us a newsletter four times a year. Oh, and I got a drop cloth of invisibility on my eighteenth birthday.”
“That must’ve been nice.”
“I lost it by the end of the week.” Gary shrugged. “Damn thing was invisible.”
Phil paid for the pizza. He forgot to get a receipt, but he wasn’t in the habit of considering deity-related tax write-offs yet.
He joined Lucky in the arcade. The raccoon pointed to a couple playing the machine on the far end.
“Watch this.”
The man rolled the wooden ball up the ramp. It hopped perfectly into the highest-scoring and most difficult hole. The machine spit out a stream of tickets. The woman took a turn and repeated the success. They continued, scoring perfect with every throw. They gathered up all their tickets and ran to the redemption counter.
“Are they your followers, too?” asked Phil.
“Nope. Never met them before.”
“But you help them out while me you smite?”
“The only one who smote you… is you.” Lucky said, “Oooh, they have a classic Asteroids console machine! I love those. Do you have any quarters?”
“They don’t take quarters anymore,” said Phil.
“Really? Things change so fast with you mortals, don’t they?”
Phil bought some tokens. Lucky pulled up a stool to the Asteroids machine. He played while explaining.
“Do you know any basic theology, Phil?”
“A little. High school stuff. I don’t remember very much.”
“Do you at least remember the first law of divine embodiment? It states that gods manifest their natures in the world around them. The effect and intensity varies by god. It’s not always the same, and it’s not always reliable. But it still applies as a general rule. As a god of prosperity and good fortune, I make good things happen. Just by being me. It’s like a tree spitting out oxygen. It doesn’t choose to do it. It just does it.”
He paused to concentrate on blasting an onslaught of meteors.
“Anyway, you and your lovely wife whose name escapes me at this moment in time…”
“Teri.”
“Thanks. When you and Teri signed on to follow me, you invited good fortune into your home. And when you let me leave, I took that fortune with me. I didn’t want to. It just left with me because that’s how it works.”
“You couldn’t make it stay behind?”
“Nope. See, that’s a common misconception you mortals have about us gods. Just because we’re divine that doesn’t mean we’re all-powerful. We have limits. We don’t like to advertise that, but it’s true.” He sniffed the air. “Is that anchovies I smell? I think our pizza is up.”
Lucky’s nose was right. They found a table in front of the animatronic animal band. The drummer was a robotic raccoon, and Lucky frowned.
“The drummer never scores. At least he’s doing better than the octopus with the tambourines.” He raised his glass to the cephalopod. “I feel for you, pal.”
The pizza was a lukewarm bread disk slathered with tomato paste and cheese. Lucky helped himself to the first slice.
“You’re not going to have any?” he asked.
“I don’t like anchovies.”
“More for me then.”
Lucky picked the little fish off a slice and devoured them. Then he put the cleaned slice on a plate and slid it before Phil. Phil took a bite. It wasn’t very good, still retaining a bit of salty anchovy flavor. But he was hungry, and he didn’t want to insult Lucky.
“Why didn’t you warn us what would happen?” Phil asked.
“I find a demonstration makes the point so much better than mere explanation.” Lucky flashed a smile. “Plus, I’m a god. I’m allowed to be petty. You can’t tell me you weren’t honestly expecting a little wrath. You’re fortunate you didn’t try to pull that a few hundred years ago. Back then, I probably would’ve dropped a meteor on your house. Lucky for you I’ve mellowed over the centuries.”
His eyes twinkled, and Phil found himself forgiving Lucky.
“Why didn’t you ask me to stay?” Lucky asked. “You came to me, after all. I wouldn’t have even been there if you hadn’t signed up.”
“No reason.”
“Riiiight.” Lucky said, “If you don’t want to tell me, that’s cool. But I already figured it was Teri’s call, right?”
“No.” Phil took a long drink of his soda. “It was me.”
“That’s sweet, kid. Don’t know many people who would risk divine wrath to protect their spouse. But don’t bother lying. I saw it in her eyes. She’s reluctant.”
Phil tried denying it, but Lucky wasn’t buying it.
“Her grandfather was killed by wrath.”
“Say no more. I understand. Being reluctant is fine. It shows she’s smart. I never trust mortals who are too eager to follow. Means they don’t take the responsibilities seriously.”
“She’s okay then?”
“Depends. Do I have her permission to crash at your place?”
“Yes.”
“Terrific, but just to make things official, I’ll need to hear it from her. Have your cell handy?”
“The battery’s dead.”
“Check again.”
Phil wasn’t surprised to see the phone fully charged. He dialed and asked for Teri. Lucky took the phone before she picked up. That made Phil nervous. She wanted the bad luck fixed, but he wasn’t certain she would agree to this. Her behavior over the course of this entire thing had been unpredictable. First again
st it, then for it. Then against it. If he explained the situation to her, how it worked, he was positive she’d allow Lucky into their home. That’s why he wanted to talk to her first.
“Teri,” said Lucky. “How’s it going?”
He turned his back and walked out of eavesdropping range. Phil nibbled on a slice of pizza and waited. The conversation took longer than a simple yes would’ve required. Lucky did most of the talking.
He returned. “Great news. She’s in.”
Lucky convinced Phil to blow off work and take the rest of the afternoon off. It wasn’t like Phil, but the god offered a wink and a smile accompanied by his trademark finger snap/gun-imitation point, and Phil found himself agreeing. They finished their meal, then played video games.
As gods went, Lucky seemed fairly laid-back. A teenager jumped ahead of him at a Whack-A-Mole game. Lucky didn’t say anything, but Phil noticed that the machines started eating the teen’s tokens afterward. Phil wondered if it was an intentional affliction or just a side effect of the prosperity god’s displeasure. Either way, it wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been, a small misery for a small transgression.
As they were leaving, Lucky said, “I almost forgot. Mind if I use your phone to call Tom and let him know I’m moving out?”
“Will he be upset?” asked Phil. “Won’t you take his fortune with you if you leave?”
“That’s what I like about you, kid. You think about others. Most everyone else wouldn’t even consider that. You’re good people.”
Phil smiled. It was nice to get a compliment, and since it was coming from his god, it had to count for a few extra points of karma.
“Don’t worry about Tom,” said Lucky. “He’ll set up an altar. I’ll be moving out, but I won’t be leaving. Not in the metaphorical sense.”
“Why do you want to move out anyway?”
“Tom’s a good guy,” replied Lucky, “but he lives in Varney, Wisconsin. Ever heard of Varney?”
“No.”
“Exactly. Nobody has. It’s not a good place for a god to regain his popularity. Plus there’s nothing to do there. And the cheese… it’s not as good as you’d expect.”
Lucky walked away as he placed his call.
Phil wandered outside and waited for Lucky to finish. The day was beautiful. He had a good feeling about the future. His god wasn’t prestigious or all-powerful, but Lucky seemed like a good god to have. Neither judgmental nor a pushover, but easygoing and low-maintenance.
He stepped in some gum. At first thinking that good fortune had deserted him, he noticed that a hundred-dollar bill was stuck with it. He peeled it off. The gum came off easily, too. Things were looking up.
A squirrel scampered before him. The odd animal was dark red with black spots. It had big blue eyes. Unusually large, it seemed. But Phil didn’t know enough about squirrels to know for sure.
It batted its eyes and cocked its head at a lovable angle.
“Hi, little fella. Aren’t you friendly?”
The squirrel stood, leaning against his leg. Its ears tilted forward. He reached down to scratch its head. The squirrel nipped at his finger, drawing blood. Phil jumped back, and the tiny spotted predator crouched. Its ears flattened. Its tail bristled. It snarled, showing razor-sharp yellow teeth. Its body tightened in preparation to spring.
Lucky stepped out of the pizzeria. The squirrel narrowed its eyes and hissed like a snake. Phil may not have known much about squirrels, but that had to be unusual. The god transformed into a two-hundred-pound timber wolf, retaining his raccoon head and tail, although his snout was elongated and canine. The squirrel turned and ran. Lucky gave chase.
“It’s okay!” shouted Phil. “It was just a little bite!”
The squirrel darted under a car in the parking lot, and Lucky scrambled after it. Phil jogged down the row of cars, trying to keep pace with the pursuit. The lot wasn’t very full. There was nowhere for the squirrel to hide. It ducked and weaved, avoiding Lucky’s snapping jaws. The squirrel veered off and headed back toward Phil.
“Oh, crap.”
The squirrel charged. Its narrow eyes focused on either his throat or his crotch. He couldn’t tell for sure, but either possibility seemed unpleasant. The rabid rodent leaped.
It was the throat. Phil was simultaneously relieved and terrified.
Lucky grabbed the squirrel by the tail and whipped it away. The rodent landed on its feet and whirled to continue the attack. Lucky transformed into a raccoon-headed bear. He stepped between the squirrel and Phil.
The rabid creature backed away.
Lucky clapped his paws, and a crate fell out of the sky. It missed the squirrel by several yards, striking a car and crushing its roof. The crate burst apart, sending shards of wood and jelly beans flying like shrapnel. Phil was fortunate enough not to have anything hard hit him, but he was pelted with candy.
Lucky clapped again. A recliner plummeted like a bomb. His aim was better but still off by a few feet.
“Damn it.”
The squirrel bolted in the opposite direction. With each clap of his paws, Lucky dropped miscellaneous bombs of divine wrath. He smashed a sportscar with a refrigerator and pulverized a pickup engine with a bathtub. An anvil missed both the cars and the squirrel, but it did leave a big dent in the pavement.
“Aw, screw it.” Lucky reverted to his casual raccoon shape. He snapped his fingers, and a midsize boat found its target. The boat wasn’t quite a yacht, but it was large enough to pulverize the animal and several automobiles.
The god scratched his head. “I guess it’s true what they say. If you don’t keep up the smiting practice, you get rusty.”
Phil gawked at the debris littering the parking lot.
Lucky scooped up a handful of jelly beans and popped a couple in his mouth. “Want one?”
“No, thanks.”
“Are you sure? They’re pretty good if you pick out the gravel.
He noticed Phil’s stunned expression.
“You okay, buddy? That squirrel didn’t hurt you, did it?”
Phil held up his wounded finger.
“We better get a Band-Aid on that. Maybe some antiseptic. Just because you’re hanging out with a god of good fortune, that doesn’t mean we can’t use a little common sense, right?”
Phil nodded. “What was that?”
“Nothing,” said Lucky. “Feral squirrel. See them all the time in the city.” He rocked back and forth on his toes and heels. “Hey, whatever it was, it’s dead now, right? It’ll never nip another finger again, and that’s a promise. I smote it good. Just consider it one of the many fine services I offer my followers. Now aren’t you glad I’m around?”
Onlookers were gathering to view the damage.
“This scene is getting crowded. Do you want to get out of here?”
“But what about all the cars you destroyed?”
“Not our problem.” Lucky enveloped them in the globe of light. “According to the Divine Intervention Concordant of 1845, a god or goddess is not responsible for any incidental damages resulting from the execution of his or her wrathful obligations. The squirrel bit you. I exacted my rightful divine retribution. It’s as simple as that. Now let’s bolt before things get complicated.”
They lifted into the air. Phil surveyed the shattered remains of the boat.
“Why did it attack me?” he wondered aloud.
“I wouldn’t worry about it, kid. As long as I’m around, everything will be turning up roses from now on.”
“But—”
“Do you like burritos, Phil?” asked Lucky.
Phil lost his train of thought. “What?”
“Burritos? Not a big fan, myself, to be honest, but sometimes, I still get a hankering. I think tonight is a burrito night. What do you think?”
Lucky smiled, and a warm, comforting feeling passed over Phil.
“Uh, yeah, burritos sound good.”
Lucky snapped his fingers. “Excellente.”
“Excellente,�
�� agreed Phil in a bit of a fog.
6
By noon, Teri had ripped her skirt, gotten several runs in her stockings, and broken a heel, and there was a wrinkle in her collar that refused to go away. Her computer had eaten her presentation, and she’d lost the index card with her backup notes and the backup backup notes. And she was fairly certain she was coming down with a cold, too.
When lunch rolled around, she was all too eager to get out of the office. She usually ate at the deli tucked in the building’s ground floor. Teri found her regular table and sat quietly. She wasn’t moving unless she absolutely had to.
A tall brunette sashayed her way to the table and had a seat. “Geez, hon, looks like you’ve had better days.”
“You have no idea.”
“You stay here,” said Janet. “I’ll go and order for the both of us.”
“Thanks.”
When Janet returned with her tray, Teri’s iced tea tipped. The lid popped off, and tea spilled across the table. She pushed away from the table to avoid getting splashed. Her chair tilted, and only Janet’s quick hand on Teri’s sleeve stopped her from falling.
Janet offered to buy Teri another drink, but Teri turned her down. Instead, she took a bite of her soggy sandwich, chewing very slowly to avoid biting her tongue.
Janet’s sandwich had somehow escaped the flood. “I don’t know, hon. Maybe Phil’s right. Maybe you should get a god.”
“We have one.”
“Oh, really?” Janet raised an eyebrow. “Is he hot? Or is he even a he? Did you go the goddess route?”
“No, he’s a he.”
“Cool. So is he hot?”
“He’s a raccoon.”
“Like with the striped tail and the cute little paws?”
Teri nodded.
“Very retro.”
“Well, he does seem to like Hawaiian shirts,” replied Teri. “The kind that were in fashion… actually I don’t think they were ever in fashion.”
“Kitschy. And a bit surprising. I always pictured you as more of a traditional gal. Well, actually, I thought you’d talk yourself out of it at the last minute.”
“I wish I had.”
A Lee Martinez Page 4