10 Shar: Gods and Muffins

by Jenny | Early Drafts | June 30th, 2007 |

Wolfie scrabbled across the stone floor and sank his teeth into the god’s ankle and Shar yelled, “No, NO!” and lunged for him.

The god looked down at Wolfie. “SIT.”

Wolfie sat, his teeth still in the god’s ankle, as Shar threw her arms around her dog. “Don’t hurt him.”

“I would not hurt him‚” the god said, and she looked up into deep, dark eyes, hundreds, thousands of years old, and thought, Oh, my god. He’d looked pretty good last night tasered on her bedroom floor, but in the morning, in the sunlight, he was divine.

She realized her mouth was open and shut it just as he said, ”You do not have to prostrate yourself before me.”

She sat up, annoyed. “I wasn’t prostrating. I was protecting my dog.” She looked down to where Wolfie was sitting and snarling, his teeth still buried in the god’s ankle. “Wolfie, let go.”

Wolfie let go, growling, “Lemme bite him, lemme bite him again.”

“Oh, crap, and you’re talking to me,” Shar said and then stopped when she saw there wasn’t a mark on the man’s ankle. “You’re not bleeding. How is that possible?” She looked up at him, really looked at him for the first time. His beard was trimmed and he was wearing a red flannel shirt and he was eating a muffin–

“I only become mortal the day of the sacrifice,” the god said. “That day has not arrived.” He took another bite out of his muffin.

Shar put her hand to her forehead before her head exploded. Okay, he’s real, he’s beautiful, he’s wearing a flannel shirt, but he is not a god. There was an explanation, there was always an explanation if you looked hard enough. Usually in a footnote.

She stood up, a little rocky. “Look, I know this is some kind of joke–”

He looked at her more closely. “Sharrat?”

“What?”

“Sharrat-Sippar.” He smiled at her as if he knew her better than he did. Before she could say anything, his smiled faded and he looked concerned. “You have been ill.”

She frowned at him. “Sharlotte Sippar. And no, I haven’t been ill, but thanks a lot. And now you can go.”

“Go?” He looked around. “But this is the temple.” He frowned. “Where is the rest?”

“Okay, really, joke over.” When he looked back at her blankly, Shar picked up the phone to dial 911, and Wolfie growled, “Lemme bite him, lemme, lemme.”

“I am not talking to you, you’re a dog‚” Shar said and when Wolfie shrank back, she added hastily, ”Nothing personal, baby, I love you, you know I love you, but you’re–” She stopped, suddenly understanding.

“Oh-kay‚” she said, putting the phone down. “I’m still asleep and this is still the dream. That’s why the shower felt so good and all the colors are brighter and I saw the pattern on my ceiling for the first time since I was a kid. Of course.” She looked at the man again. “Hi, I’m Shar. And you are?”

“SUMU-LA-EL” he said, with the echo of thunder in his voice.

“Sumu,” she said. “Very wrestler-ish. And lord knows, you’ve got the body for it. Regular wrestling, not sumo.”

“Sumu,” he said, looking confused. And really beautiful in the sunlight, his dark hair crisp and curled, his skin bronzed and healthy, and his eyes so dark they burned. Even with the beard and the red flannel shirt, he looked . . .

Stop that, Shar told herself. This is a dream in the daylight. No fooling around. She folded her arms. “So, Sumu, what are you doing here? Got a message for me? Because the symbolism of this is escaping me.” Aside from the wish fulfillment.

“I AM SUMU-LA-EL–”

“We did that part.”

“–THE DYING GOD, RETURNED FOR THE SACRIFICE.”

“Yeah, I saw your stone poster in the storeroom last night. So you came back to die for the crops? Here’s some good news: we don’t do that anymore. The whole sacrifice thing? Outlawed.”

“OUTLAWED?” he said, and Shar took a step back. He sat very still and then said, “No,” and picked up his muffin again. “These are very good.”

“They’re from the Jeff,” Shar said. “Gracie has a new baker. Look, I don’t believe you’re a god.”

“He’s a god,” Wolfie said.

She looked down at him. “I don’t believe you’re talking to me.”

“He’s talking to you,” Sumu said.

“Oh, like I’m going to let the two of you vouch for each other,” Shar said and then realized she was pretty much beyond asking for credentials. She glared at the god. “What are you doing here? What do you want? What happened to the rest of your beard? And where did you get that awful shirt?”

“I am here to rule until the sacrifice,” Sumu said, and took a bite of muffin. “Kammani called me and I rose.”

“Kammani,” Shar said and then the other shoe dropped. “Kami. And her temple dogs.”

Wolfie growled.

“It’s that damn Kool-aid,” Shar said. “Don’t drink strange things before bed, Shar, you get weird dreams.”

“It is here.” He handed her the papers he’d been reading from the beginning of the book, her great-great-great-grandmother’s work. “You wrote about me.”

The top paper said “Sumu-la-el” in her great-great-great-grandmother’s spiky writing, both in English and cuneiform. “God of the Summer,” Shar read. “Slayer of Demons. Greatest of Kings.”

Sumu nodded and ate more muffin.

“So humility wasn’t a virtue back then.” Shar skimmed the rest, giving up when she realized it went for pages. Multi-great grandma knew a lot about Sumu.

“Humility?” Sumu said. “I do not understand.”

“Imagine my surprise.” Shar said. “Okay, for the sake of argument, let’s say Kammani called you and you rose. Shouldn’t you be . . . elsewhere?”

“Hungry,” Wolfie said and Sumu fed the last of his muffin to him.

“I rose in the room of the sun as always,” Sumu said. “The room in the temple that holds my heart.”

Shar froze. “Tell me that’s a metaphor.”

Sumu put his hand on his flannel-covered chest. “I am whole again now.”

Shar grabbed onto the back of the closest chair. “I’ve been sleeping with your heart in my bedroom???”

He looked down at the expanse of red flannel and brushed muffin crumbs off it.
“Kar-en gave me the shirt.”

Shar peeled her mind off the whole heart thing and focused on this. “What? Who’s Karen?”

“The woman I met last night, walking from this house to find Kammani. She stopped her car. She asked if I had been mugged.” He frowned. “There is a lot of mugging in this world?”

“Not in Summerville‚” Shar said, feeling mugged herself. “And then she handed you the shirt because . . .?”

“No, and then she took me to her home.” Sumu bit into the muffin. “And she said it would be better in this world if I were shaven. I did not agree but she showed pictures. So I let her trim my beard so that my people would recognize me as one of them.”

“‘Oh, yeah, you blend,’” Shar said, and then shook her head. “Okay, so she gave you the shirt because . . .?”

“She said I must wear this world’s clothing after sex,” Sumu said and took another bite from his muffin.

“What?”

“She said it was good that her ex was a Big and Tall.” He frowned. “I am absorbing this world as quickly as I can, but much of it makes no sense.”

“No kidding,” Shar said, feeling snappish. “She didn’t know you, she picked you up in the street, why would she have sex with you?”

“All women want to have sex with a god.” He looked around. “There are more muffins in the next room. Fetch me one.”

Shar took a deep breath. “Here’s another thing that’s different about this world: women don’t fetch.”

Sumu stared at her for a moment and then got up and went into the kitchen.

“Good to know gods can be trained,” Shar said to Wolfie. Then Sumu came back with a muffin and she said, “And another thing that’s different here. You can’t just assume women will have sex with you-”

“Still hungry,” Wolfie barked.

“They ask.” Sumu tore off a piece of the muffin and gave it to Wolfie.

“Suppose they don’t ask?”

Sumu looked at her impassively. “That never happens.”

“Well, it’s going to happen in this world‚” Shar said, not completely sure of that. Even in flannel, Sumu was impressive. “Okay, this is important. If they say no, you don’t keep going.”

“They don’t say no.” Sumu smiled at her, blinding her with power and certainty and sex, and she sat stunned as heat spread through her.

Dream. He is not a god, and this is a dream.

She heard a door slam and Ray called out “Shar?” from the living room.

“Oh, hell‚” Shar said. Sumu started to say something, and she said, “You stay here while I get rid of him. Permanently. That man does not belong in my dreams.”

She went through the archway into the living room and found Ray, standing in the middle of the room, unplugging her small flat screen TV and looking very . . . real.

“Hey‚” Shar said. “What are you doing? Also, we’re finished.” She stopped, amazed it had been so easy to say “Finished,” and then remembered. Dream.

“I know.” Ray picked up the TV. “It’s not your fault, we were just wrong for one another. I’m glad you’re taking this so well.”

“I’m thrilled,” Shar said. “What are you doing with my TV?”

“It’s my TV,” Ray said, “I bought it–” He looked beyond her, and straightened. “Who the hell is that?”

Shar didn’t bother to turn around. “That’s Sumu-el . . . just give me the TV.”

“Sam who?” Ray looking like a wounded puppy. ”Have you been cheating on me?”

”No. I met him this morning. I’m betting you began excavating the modern languages honey last night. Step away from the TV, Ray.”

“Hate him,” Wolfie said on a low growl, coming to sit at her feet. “Bite him.”

“Do as Sharrat says or I will smite you, son of a dog,” Samu said.

“Excuse me?” Wolfie said.

“It’s Shar,” Shar said to Samu. “Shar, not Sharrat, Shar.”

“Smite me? I’d like to see you try‚” Ray said, stepping closer.

“I would, too‚” Shar said. “I’m bitter about that taser.”

“You said you were afraid,” Ray said to her and then scowled at Samu again. “Who do you think you are?”

“He thinks he’s a god,” Shar said. “Hence the smiting. Put my TV down first.”

“It’s not yours‚” Ray said, keeping an eye on Samu. “It’s mine. I just kept it here to watch it with you, and now I’m breaking up with you, so I’m taking it back.”

“Shall I smite him?” Samu said.

“Give me a minute here,” Shar said to him. ”Ray, you gave it to me for my birthday. It’s small, and it’s an off brand, but a gift is a gift. Put it down or Samu smites.”

“I’m not afraid of Sam‚” Ray said.

“Dumb ass,” Wolfie growled.

“Take the TV, Sam,” Shar said, and he stepped forward, a mountain in motion, and took the TV from Ray with one hand.

“Hey.” Ray grabbed for it, and Sam pointed a finger at him and a small burn mark appeared between Ray’s eyes.

Ray screamed, and Wolfie barked, “Do it again,” and Shar took the TV and put it on the table so it wouldn’t get broken. This was one of her best dreams ever.

“What the fuck?” Ray said, feeling his forehead.

“Watch your language in front of my dog.” Shar looked down at Wolfie who was growling louder now. “I’ll wash out your mouth with soap if I hear anything nasty.”

“You’re insane‚” Ray said, weakly. “You’ve lost your mind. You’re talking to your dog and you’ve picked up this guy–”

“God‚” Shar said.

“–and now you’re delusional.”

The doorbell rang and Ray backed up angrily to answer it. Bill the mailman said, “Morning, Shar,” and handed Ray the mail. She said, “Morning, Bill,” and waited for him to turn into Winston Churchill or the Michelin Man, but the sun shone through the open door and Bill was just Bill, smiling and waving and leaving to make the rest of his rounds, and Ray was looking very real, and she thought, This doesn’t feel like a dream.

She looked down at Wolfie. “Not a dream?”

“Nope.”

“Oh, fuck,” Shar said and faced reality.

It was bent.

“I want to know what’s going on here,” Ray said.

“So do I‚” Shar said, still trying to wrap her mind around talking dogs and gods. Talking dogs were easier, she’d been talking to Wolfie for a long time. The god, however—

“Shar,” Ray said.

Shar folded her arms. “Leave.”

“The TV–”

“GO,” Sam said, and it sounded like thunder, and Ray turned and went.

That was good, Shar thought, and then shook her head. It was not good. It was dangerous and insane and . . .

“We need to talk,” she said to Sam.

“Let us speak over muffins‚” Sam said and walked into her kitchen.

“Oh, let’s‚” Shar said and went into her dining room, sat down at her table, put her head in her hands, and thought, There’s a god in my kitchen.

“I like him,” Wolfie said and sat down beside her.

Sam came out with the entire bag of muffins this time.

“So,” Shar said, regrouping. “You’re new here, and there are some things you need to know. Our . . . customs.” She eyed his red flannel shirt. “Like this woman you spent the night with–”

“No.” Sam pulled a muffin out of the bag.

“Muffins are good,” Wolfie said from the stone floor. “Muffins are very, very good.” He moved closer to Sam.

“What do you mean, no?” Shar said.

“No, I did not pass the night with Kar-en.”

“What did you do in the time between earning your new wardrobe–” Shar looked at the red flannel with distaste. “–and coming back here?”

“There was a place with drink.”

“A bar. You spent the night in a bar? “

“No,” Sam said. “Not in the bar. There were women who said I should go with them.”

“And of course you did.” Shar rubbed her forehead. “Did you tell them you were a god?”

“Yes‚” Sam said.

“And they said . . .”

“Prove it.” Sam bit into the muffin again.

The Ghostbusters Theory of Dating: If somebody asks you if you’re a god, say yes. “Sam, how many women did you sleep with last night?”

He squinted for a moment as if thinking. Or counting.

“Oh, my god‚” Shar said.

“Six.”

“How the hell did you–” She stopped. He was a god, that was how. “Okay. But you didn’t mention my name, right?”

“I did not know your name then, Sharrat.”

“Shar,” Shar said, losing her temper, and then she realized it was probably a good thing he couldn’t get her name right.

Wolfie whined, and Sam tore off another piece of muffin and gave it to him, which the little traitor snarfed right down.

“All right,” Shar said. “Don’t sleep with any more women today.” She stopped. “That means don’t have sex with anybody else today.”

“Why?” Sam said.

“Because this is a different world. That’s not the way we do things.” Some of us.

“But it’s our world now‚” Sam said. “Kammani’s and mine. We have come to save it.”

Fabulous, Shar thought. Spiked Kool-aid and divine sex, that’s how they’re going to save the world. She looked at Sam again and realized that it wasn’t a completely bad idea.

“I must find Kammani‚” Sam said.

Okay, Kami was crazier than a bedbug and Sam was a god. It was probably better that they never met. And that Sam go someplace he would blend in because word about him had to be spreading fast in Summerville–

“I think she’s in LA,” Shar said, heading for one of the bookcases that lined the room. “Here, let me find you my road atlas. I’m sure you’ll be very popular as a hitchhiker.”

“LA?”

“Hollywood.” Shar pulled her Rand McNally out, found the pages that said “California,” tore them out and handed them to him. “Just head west. You’re going to love it there. They have sex there constantly.”

He took the pages and she felt a momentary pang. Not every woman could say she’d had a god rise in her bedroom. Of course, the way Sam was going, it was only a matter of time before every woman could, but for the moment . . .

“This is where Kammani is?” Sam said, looking at the map.

“Yes‚” Shar said firmly. She didn’t like lying, but the last thing she needed was a promiscuous god roaming through her neighborhood. Or her fantasies.

He met her eyes and she lost her breath at the darkness and power there. “Thank you, Shar.”

“You’re welcome,” she said faintly.

He put down his muffin, took the map, stood up, and moved toward the door, stopping for a moment in the doorway, blotting out the daylight with his bulk, his eyes burning on her. “MAY THE SUN SHINE ON YOU,” he said, and walked out, letting the sun back through the doorway.

“You, too,” Shar called after him, and then put her hand on the table to steady herself. “Okay, that was upsetting.”

“I liked him,” Wolfie whined, sitting with his tail wrapped around him, thumping.

“Good to know you’ll sell out for a muffin.” Shar felt bereft which was stupid. “Anyway, now he’s gone and it’s a damn good thing, too.”

“He should come back,” Wolfie barked.

I’m having an argument with my dog, Shar thought, and went to put her notes back together.

The god had left half his muffin on the table.

“He didn’t finish it,” she said, perturbed by that, and ate the rest of it as she got her things ready for school, thinking about her dog who was talking, the god she’d just unleashed on Hollywood, and the goddess who was still making Kool-aid in Summerville. She really should talk to somebody about that, but who would believe . . .

She stopped and went through her notebook to find the paper that had Abby’s and Daisy’s phone numbers on it. They’d been chugging Kool-aid, too. Maybe they were somewhere right now dealing with their own talking dogs and gods. She picked up the phone and punched in Daisy’s number.

This really wasn’t the kind of thing a woman handled alone.

33 Comments so far

  1. Diane (TT) June 30th, 2007 8:39 am

    This is hilarious! Laugh out loud funny. I love Sumu-la-el, and Wolfie is great (although I’m not sure why he takes against Sumu-la-el so much at first) - I completely get his developing a fondness for Sam: it’s not just the muffins, it’s smiting Ray. Who thoroughly deserves smiting.

    The “why was she with Ray in the first place?” thing definitely needs work. Yuck.

  2. Strop June 30th, 2007 10:33 am

    Jenny, that’s an absolute cracker. You haven’t written like that since…. Strange Bedpersons, maybe? That really rolling, cracking along, wit, laughter, sex thing.

    Amazing scene.

  3. inkgrrl June 30th, 2007 3:18 pm

    Omigod I love this book. It’s not even a book yet, but it’s already fabulous. Write faster. No pressure.

  4. sheagal June 30th, 2007 4:41 pm

    So, So funny. I’m tempted to just re-type all my favorite lines, but I will resist. Tina Fey really would be great as Shar if you ever decided to film it.

    I like how Wolfie’s character is developing. He was not my favorite in the beginning, but I’m beginning to fall in love with him. He’s so protective of Shar and keeps trying to do the right thing, despite his fear. He really is her best friend. I’m loving this book, btw.

  5. Laura Vivanco June 30th, 2007 7:25 pm

    Those god puns are so bad they’re good. This scene seems to bounce with energy; it’s like it’s got a Kool-aid induced brightness and the puns are the pattern coming through on the ceiling.

  6. Jenny June 30th, 2007 7:30 pm

    Oooooh. I like that.

    Mostly it’s just such a fun book. We’re like little kids with it. “Can we do this?” “We have talking dogs. We can do anything.”

    You know a lot of those puns were inadvertent–like the “My gods”–and then some–”he looked divine”–were just too much fun to resist.

  7. me June 30th, 2007 10:13 pm

    Laughing so hard. Love this. Ghostbusters reference is perfect and hilarious. And I loved hte lines “Hence the smiting” and “Shall I smite him?”

    I will now introduce myself to people as Kar-en (hands on hips, deep resounding, god-like voice). LOL

  8. Downundergal July 1st, 2007 12:32 am

    Fab scene loved it.
    Oh god (no pun intended) - 6 women? So here’s a question - may be crude and inappropriate but that’s me - if he doesn’t bleed can he come? I mean as in spill his godly seed? I’m assuming he can feel the pleasure of it? Or maybe he doesn’t? Sorry, just curious.

  9. Jenny July 1st, 2007 1:17 am

    He’s a god. He’s not about to miss out on one of the great joys of life. Fully functioning.

    BUT it isn’t until he finds the GHH that he realizes what he’s been looking for four thousand years. Well, several hundred years, he was dead for most of the four thousand.

    We discussed this in a post on Argh several weeks ago:

    I’ve been working on the Fun Book on Sundays, and I ran into a snag because my hero, who is supernaturally irresistible (stick with me, it works) sleeps with at least twelve women before he goes to bed with the heroine. That’s believable given his character, but here’s the kicker: my heroine won’t sleep with him because he’s promiscuous–she’s no dummy–and he actually gives up other women to have her and keep her. I mean, what are the chances?

    So I talked this out with a pal of mine, somebody who’s very savvy about literary convention and respectability, Lani Diane Rich.

    “Sam nails everything that moves and then gives it all up for Char,” I told her. “Who’s going to believe that? I’m in so much trouble here.”

    “Oh, no, you’re fine,” Lani said. “Char has a Glittery HooHa.”

    “Excuse me?”

    “You’ve never heard of the Glittery HooHa?” Lani patted my arm. “Oh, honey.”

    And then she explained it. Click here if you want the details or have forgotten them or just want to hear Lani’s explanation again because it’s poetry.

  10. GatorPerson July 1st, 2007 8:43 am

    This is hilarious. Absolutely positively loved it. Some of the best writing you’ve ever done.

  11. Downundergal July 1st, 2007 8:46 am

    Yes had already read the GHH posts and loved Lani’s explanation.
    Just wanted to check he was in full functioning order

  12. GatorPerson July 1st, 2007 8:49 am

    Now to the picky point because I maintain if good stuff is mixed with bad stuff, the receiver only remembers the bad stuff.

    Sam can’t bleed. OK, I accept that. But if he isn’t human until he must die, how can his body metabolize muffins? Maybe a little tweaking, like the partial shaving to remove the chin dreadlocks? So maybe he only can’t be harmed, but all the rest is fine for his body.

  13. Diane (TT) July 1st, 2007 12:32 pm

    GP, what’s the point of being alive if you can’t metabolize muffins? Because if one can’t metabolize muffins, the corollary is that one can’t metabolize chocolate, at which point, why bother being alive? Remember, the genus name for chocolate is Theobroma meaning “food of the gods”, so clearly the gods eat. Right?

    The gods have always eaten and drunk,they just don’t tend to get fat, just as they have lots of sex with no inconveniences (unless it would make a good story). How it works, I have no idea, but I’m sure the goddesses will work it out.

  14. GatorPerson July 1st, 2007 12:46 pm

    Argh! This is getting philosophical. Are there any gods or goddesses that got hurt, bled? Yep, they could get killed or turned into trees. Obviously they could drink. Maybe none could get merely hurt and bleed. Well, there’s Achilles and his heel, but he wasn’t a god.

    Anybody know of a god or goddess that got hurt?

  15. Jenny July 1st, 2007 1:40 pm

    The gods didn’t get turned into trees. The nymphs they chased got turned into trees.

    Gods get to do pretty much anything they want. Since myths are stories told to make the unexplained or unexplainable something that people can grasp, most cultures see their gods in human form, doing human things. The idea that a god can’t do something is antithetical to the idea of godhood. Gods can do anything.

    However Sam is a demigod, son of a human father and a goddess (see Nanshe) so his situation is different. Most classic heroes are demigods–Hercules, etc.–and they’re mortal and they bleed. From the Wikipedia:

    “Thus the heroes have liminal qualities that enable them to have great strength, to cross the threshold between the worlds of the living and the dead yet return safely, and to mediate long after their death between human and divine. . . Such “demigods” were usually mortal, but were pre-eminent among humans, and some had unusual powers.”

    So Sam can move between life and death because the goddess wills it so, but also because he’s a demi-god–otherwise the wear and tear on his body and brain would make him insane–which can manifest itself in different ways. In Sam’s case, not much bothers him, emotionally or physically. Which is good since he’s part of a chthonic cult that hacks him to death once a year.

    The place I think I went over the edge is that pointing-the-finger-and burning-hole-in-the-forehead thing. I don’t think that works. So that’ll have to go.

    But no, if you look at gods, they don’t get killed or turned into things. Those are hapless mortals and nymphs. It was hell being a nymph. And even that’s all Greek. Go five hundred miles north and turn left at the Euphrates, as Shar says in a later scene.

    Okay, I was looking up “blood of gods” to see what it was called besides ichor and found this:

    “As [Aphrodite] was shielding her staggering son from the thunderous assault of Diomedes, she was wounded in the hand. Athene, another meddler in the Trojan War, had given Diomedes the power to see the immortals on the battlefield. She advised him (Iliad, book 5, line 129) to avoid all the gods except Aphrodite, “her at least you may stab”. Diomedes lunged at Aphrodite and his pitiless bronze spear tore through the robe that the Graces had carefully woven and cut the flesh of her immortal palm. The blood of the gods, ichor, poured darkly on her perfect skin (Iliad, book 5, line 340) as she fled the battlefield and went to Mount Olympos (Olympus) to seek comfort from Dione. Zeus advised her, No, my child, not for you are the works of warfare. Rather concern yourself only with the lovely secrets of marriage… (Iliad, book 5, line 428).”

  16. Jenny July 1st, 2007 1:45 pm

    Oh, and I know Sam says he’s a god. He knows he’s a demi-god. But he’s also a hero and a king. I see him as a kind of professional football player or a particularly large rock star or actor. They all think they’re gods; Sam’s just up front about it.

  17. Courtney July 1st, 2007 7:22 pm

    Jenny, what’s a chthonic cult? Teach me-I wish to learn.

    I’m thinking of Sam as kind of like Superman (in oh so many ways). He eats and drinks and does all of that (ahem) other stuff, but try and hurt him and the bullets just bounce off. The day of sacrifice is Sam’s kryptonite.

    And as far as the pointing and burning finger…well, maybe it’s a little over the top, but the whole smiting thing has to manifest itself somehow. Unless, perhaps, “I will smite him” is god-speak for “I will kick his ass.”

    I’m loving the fun book. This scene absolutely snaps and crackles. Can’t wait to see what happens next.

  18. Jenny July 2nd, 2007 12:05 am

    Chthonic. Okay, this is not a professional definition (don’t try this at home, kids) but chthonic gods/cults were based on earth myths, vegetation myths, so they were about being IN the earth, not walking on it. Most of the dying god myths where chthomic: the god dies and goes to the underworld, in the earth, and then is reborn again, emerging from the earth. They’re usualy the oldest of any cultures myths and a lot of them involved sacrifice, the importance of the blood going into the earth to fertilize it. The sacrifices were usually animal, but there were human sacrifices in several cultures. So the chthonic myths and cults have a darkness to them that’s more primeval than evil. Sam has to die to fertilize the land; then Kammani goes to the underworld and brings him back in the spring and her joy makes everything bloom. Or something like that. Demeter/Persephone is a chthonic myth. Think “earthy” rather than “ethereal.”

    Which works well with Sam’s personality. I’m working up his legend for the goddesses section now (okay, he’s not a goddess but he’s going there anyway) so that I know where he came from, but I know that he’s a chthonic demi-god and that he not only accepts that, it’s his vocation. He needs to die at the summer solstice in the same way I need to write. He is what he does. He saves his people every year. And I find that incredibly attractive in a man. The saving, not the dying.

  19. toni mcgee causey July 2nd, 2007 12:18 am

    I really liked the burning, smiting. Since he’s of the earth, could he manifest / absorb / focus static electricity or current and send it outward? Maybe with a direct touch (to transfer the current) instead of through the air?

  20. Downundergal July 2nd, 2007 4:39 am

    You and me both, Jenny.
    Somebody get me some water!

  21. GatorPerson July 2nd, 2007 9:12 am

    Smite. I love smiting. Imagining him looking for and testing the right 21st century smite instrument, since he left his back home. Tennis racket, baseball bat, kitchen tongs, TV control, car keys, mouse.

    Jenny, please be careful. You’re giving us a review lesson in gods. Goddess knows, I might learn something!

  22. GatorPerson July 2nd, 2007 10:09 am

    Smitre mitre. He left home without it.

  23. Jenny July 2nd, 2007 10:09 am

    Don’t count on me for serious myth instruction. I haven’t taught myth since 1991, and I never taught Mesopotamian myth. Especially do not take the stuff in the Goddesses category as real myth. It’s real myth I’m butchering for back story here. Nanshe and Ninsaba were really Mesopotamian goddesses and I stick as closely as I can to their stories, but I don’t let it hinder me as I write the D&G version of their myths. It’s D&G World; our motto is “We can do anything.”

    But the reason myths work is that deep structure that repeats across time and culture, and that’s the part I don’t want to get wrong. So we’ll be tweaking the mythology without mangling it. At least that’s the plan.

    Real historians might beg to differ.

  24. Lily July 2nd, 2007 3:27 pm

    Wow. I think this tops the dinner scene in Strange Bedpersons.

  25. Courtney July 2nd, 2007 3:34 pm

    The Fun Book is so educational. Who needs “serious” myth instruction when you can get Fun Myth Instruction?

    Smite. If you have been smote, does that mean you’re smoot? *hee hee* Love the word smite. Perhaps a little TOO much.

  26. AndreaS July 2nd, 2007 4:41 pm

    That is wonderful! So funny. So dog-like for Wolfie to go after the person with food and attach himself there.

    I am so happy you are all working on this book!

  27. Pam W. July 2nd, 2007 5:15 pm

    I absolutely love Wolfie and his voice. And it works so much better to me having him “talk” like everybody else–no italics, using quotes.

    Also, I wouldn’t mind seeing Sam and Shar have a little more spark when talking about his night of sex–a little more blunt, a little more outraged-yet-curous, just a little more over the top. I mean, you’re referencing the GHH here, I think some over the top is called for, nay, necessary.

    What Stroppy says about the cracker–absolutely. I love this book. Can I buy it now?

  28. Office Wench Cherry July 3rd, 2007 3:23 pm

    “Do as Sharrat says or I will smite you, son of a dog,” Samu said.

    “Excuse me?” Wolfie said.

    This is why I will buy multiple copies of this book. Or at least spend far too much time at this blog.

  29. Micki July 4th, 2007 10:05 pm

    Extremely funny! I love this! Would it be over the top if Ray asked for his taser back, too?

    I’m really focused on the taser, because I see the Smiting as a kind of Divine Tasering. I liked the resonance. (-: But it may be over the top, because, what does Sumu do for an encore?

    You are allowed to re-do the myths any way you like (that works, of course!). I mean, that’s what Ovid and all those other Greek and Latin guys did, right?

    BTW, damaged gods: I think you get a lot of that in Norse mythology. One-eyed Odin, and I think it was Blind Io — who got knocked out by the deadly mistletoe. But these aren’t Norse gods, so I don’t see any problem with the no-bleeding thing.

    Love the puns — love the very casual sex (-:. Although it isn’t, is it? It’s part of his divine duty, right? Is he reaping or sowing here? (I mean, gathering energy from the partners, or spreading joy and blessings to the world?)

    This is going to be an amazing book!

    BTW, just finished TUMF, and that was fantastic, too!

  30. Micki July 5th, 2007 1:34 am

    Whoopsie. I was reading an Archie comic just now, (one talking about Norse mythology — truth is stranger than fiction, and how) and realized that Blind Io is part of *modern* British mythology. Balder got killed by his blind brother Hod. Sorry.

  31. Jenny July 5th, 2007 2:46 am

    I think having sex with everything that moves stretches the idea of “duty,” but he’s definitely not into self-denial.

    Little does he know that he’s just met his GHH.

    I’d forgotten about Odin and the Norse gods. Well, not entirely. I knew that Odin gave up his eye for wisdom, so when Xander lost his eye in the last season of Buffy, I knew that was set-up for him to become a Watcher. I think Baldur is the Norse equivalent of the Dying God–Tammuz, Osiris, Adonis, that bunch–but I’m not sure. Also, he doesn’t come back, which is the Norse for you. That’s a grim little mythology they have going there. For an excellent documentary on the Norse, see Eric the Viking. One of Tim Robbins’ greatest roles.

    Sam’s not Norse. I think he’s Akkadian, but my grasp of Mesopotamian subcultures is still . . . non-existent.

  32. patmcaudel July 7th, 2007 2:30 am

    ok, in stead of leaving the burn mark, couldn’t it be a warm/hot feeling spot, not visual but you would never convince ray there was no mark.

    that way the god would have a way to establish himself with “power” above the normals that are running around. you know, talking to dogs.

  33. Louisa July 13th, 2007 7:21 pm

    I really like the smiting between the eyes. WMS–smiting (in this instance; there may be degrees of smiting) is divine tasering.

    As for having sex with everything that moves, or every attractive thing that moves, somehow that doesn’t seem so bad to me. I just don’t want Sam to let some plastic starlet to get her hands on his handgun. Loose is fine; stupid, not so good.

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