Death of the Elder Gods – A Short Story

My job sucked.  Some people like to say their job sucks; they work in carbon black plants or in sewers, but those jobs are a cakewalk compared to mine.  I was a feeder.  My job was to feed virgin girls to an elder god so they didn’t destroy the planet.

One could say that the Mayans were at least partially right, something certainly happened that December.  But I doubt they figured the elder gods would return and enslave all humanity.

Guns didn’t work, tanks didn’t work, nothing we tried worked.  They destroyed everything in their path until we relented to their demands; each one demanded a virgin girl be fed to it every day.

So that was my job, I had to make sure the girl made it down the gullet of the beast I had to feed.  Believe me, swimming in feces, getting covered in dirt or even wrestling alligators is easy compared with throwing a screaming, thrashing innocent girl into the mouth of monster.

*  *  *

It was a Tuesday and I was sitting next to the god I called Cthulu when they brought me Tiffany.  I called it Cthulu because nobody could pronounce the gods’ names.  Honestly.  My lord’s name sounded like two whales humping.  Not those words, it actually sounded like the noises I suppose whales make when they’re getting whale freaky.  It was proud that I named it after the dark Lovecraftian god, but I just called it that because it was a giant squid monster.

Tiffany was a young girl; all of them were, it was nearly impossible to find an eighteen-year-old virgin.  She had a gap between her front teeth and her hair was died pink and blond.  When they delivered her to me, she was wearing “booty” shorts that showed her butt cheeks and a tube top.  Nothing but class I guess.

Sitting in my usual place over the maw of Cthulu, I looked up at the child, “You have been chosen to save the planet,” I yawned, “Your sacrifice …”

I was sick of it.  Sick of the whole damn thing.  I had nightmares about teen girls screaming as they fell to the deaths.  Hell, if I could avoid sleeping I did.  I didn’t want to see any of them again; not in my dreams, not while I was awake.

“To hell with it,” I groaned, slapping my hands on my thighs and standing up, “You gonna jump in or do I need to throw you?”

The tears started to flow almost instantly.  Great.  I was going to have to throw her in.

Looking at the keeper, Mark, I asked, “You check?”

“Yep,” he nodded, “She’s a virgin.”

Instantly, she bolted, but Mark and I had been through the whole sacrifice thing too many times.  Mark stepped in her way and I grabbed her by both of her arms.  She tried to kick me in the groin like every little bimbo we had tossed into that monster’s belly.  I didn’t fall for it, never did.  Kicking my thigh, she lost her plastic flip-flop in the attempt; the cheap shoe tumbling over the side of the sacrificial balcony and bouncing off a gargantuan tentacle.

“Alrighty kid,” I grunted as she screamed and tried to headbutt me, “I don’t like this any more than you do.”

Wrestling the child to the edge of the sacrificial balcony, I barely even looked over edge at the elder god below.  The elder god’s gargantuan tubular body was covered in black eyes that were the size of Buicks.  Anywhere there wasn’t a hideous black eye, a monstrous tentacle flailed outward and upward.  Finally, on top of the beast, a massive toothed maw with a writhing tongue waited eagerly for its meal.

Overwhelmed by the beast’s stench of rot and putrescence, I quickly hurled the screaming girl over the edge.  Another one down.  Her mom would probably track me down and spit on me like so many other moms before.  Who cared?  At least she died, I had to live in hell …

The best stopped writhing and I could swear that all of its huge eyes grew wider.  It … burped.  The thing was having trouble digesting the pink and blond girl!

Mark had grown curious, wondering why I was staring over the edge.  He walked to my side and looked over as well.

“What’s up?” he asked.

Just then, the elder god managed to mumble, “Not … virgin.”

Then it just … popped.  Not like in the movies with a huge thunderous explosion, but more like a party balloon popping when you fill it with too much helium.  There was a huge fountain of purple and green slime that erupted into the air and then rained down on us like so much holy water.

Tiffany, covered in torn tissue and purple and green goop plopped onto her but next to Mark and I.  All three of us looked confused and bewildered.  Mark wiped some of the goop off his face as I wandered to Tiffany’s side.

“You’re … not a virgin?” I asked, kneeling next to the frightened girl.

“I checked her myself!”  Mark yelled, “I can confirm she has her hymen!”

The tears came back and Tiffany started crying again.  She couldn’t say anything, but only shook her head.

“How?” I asked.  I was more stunned than curious.

“My … my …” Tiffany sobbed, “My boyfriend s … said if we … did it in the butt … I WOULD STILL BE A VIRGIN!” she cried out and collapsed in a sobbing heap of pink and blond dyed hair.

I honestly don’t think I’ve ever laughed that hard in my life.  Tears were rolling out of my eyes and my breathing could only come in short, honking barks.  It was too perfect!

“P … p … please t … tell me … he’s like,” I fell into another fit of laughter, “like thirty OR! …” I gasped, trying to breath, “YOUR DAD!”

Even Mark was laughing now.  The irony was too much.

Laughing, I grabbed her head in my hands and kissed her forehead, “You beautiful, dumb little girl,” I laughed.  “You killed it with a technicality!”

Trying to compose myself, I motioned to Mark, “Gimme … gimme my phone.”  I stood up and wiped some of the stinking glop off my face, “I gotta call the other feeders.”

“He’s twenty-four …” I heard Tiffany say as I started to make my calls.

*   *   *

So that’s it, that’s my story about how a white trash girl named Tiffany from Westlake Mobile Home Community and her pedophile boyfriend saved the world and I went back to work at Wal-Mart.  I think I saw Tiffany on the Maury show the other day … I’m pretty sure her dad was the baby’s father.

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About Webgoji

I am a member of the Kansas Writers Association and Wichita Writers Guild. I have successfully completed National Novel Writing Month and have completed 3 different novels. My first novel "The Fay Dragon Chronicles" unfortunately wasn't published, but I am currently trying to get my second book "The Seraphim Protocol" published. View all posts by Webgoji

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