In this global recession millions all around the world are out of work. Countries are spending billions of dollars on their economies to create jobs and get people back to work. Yet there is a group who has not recievedd any attention from world governments, or even any coverage by the media. A group that has been suffering not for decades, not for centuries, but for millennia. They are the ancient gods of yore, long forgotten by men. Most if not all of their power is lost to them. Yet they are left to live among us. Immortal yes, but pained with unemployment, perhaps until the end of time. This is the story of three of these gods trying to survive in a strange world.

Stuffed at the drive through booth of a Dairy Queen, the Greek god of thunder, and king of Mount Olympus, Zeus, talks to us in the parking lot. “It’s a load of bull crap if you ask me. These humans have ten years of trouble and they complain like it’s the end of the world. You know what that feels like to an immortal? I walk to the toilet to take a shit, come back and my boss is dead and some young up and comer asshole is asking me who I am. Who I am! We’ve been out of a job since that douche-bag Jesus told everyone to worship Big Blue Eyes. That’s what we called him back then, the little punk. Look at him now, with all his fame and power. He would of been nothing it if weren’t for us! We raised that guy from obscurity, gave him a chance. Now he’s fucking us all in the ass till the end of time.”

Here’s a god not doing too poorly. We caught up with the Norse god, Heimdallr, in a cramped office in Chinatown. Heimdallr was the deity charged to keep a lookout for the coming of Ragnorok, or as some may call it, the end of the world. He is also known to be the whitest of the gods. Big Blue Eyes gave Heimdallr a little bit more responsibility in the new order. “Yeah Ol’ Blue made me an angel or whatever. Something to do at least. I’m the angel in charge of skin pigment deficiencies. It’s not a glorious job or anything but somebody’s got to do it. No it has nothing to do with the fact that I’m super white. I’m white because I god damn choose to be white, asshole. He wouldn’t mock me… no… he wouldn’t…he couldn’t…”

Lastly we caught up with the Egyptian god Osiris, god of death and guardian of the underworld. We found the green skinned god underground in a series of ancient sewers below Paris. “I am the king of rats. I wish to be called Rat King Omega. I control the rats. They are my friends and lovers. Big Blue Fag can’t take that away from me. He can’t control me or my rats! I’m the god of rats, the god of rats I say! I’ll give you one for a Euro. Feind, stop touching my blanket!”

So there you have it, three gods, three unhappy and mistreated souls. Destined to spend all of eternity at fast food chains, or swimming with the dregs of the earth. Perhaps if the human race began to care more about these forgotten gods, they would regain some of their power, and maybe be a little happier. They can only hope.

Until next time,

Maxim