Of Gods - Part One

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Jonunji*, known to his friends as Jon, is a god. He's one of the lesser-known gods, and in the present day, an almost entirely un-worshipped god. this presents a problem, as gods survive on the worship of mortals and despite being the god of fire, who bestowed the aforementioned element upon mankind, Jon hasn't received any worship for quite some time. Those who aren't worshipped for a period of several hundred years or so (it depends on the god), lose conciousness. God, sat up in heaven with his angels is alright, but in the polytheistic camp, times are not so good. Small Breezes, for example, lost consciousness centuries ago. It was for this reason, to decide how to restore themselves to their former glory, that the Council of Gods was held, chaired (controversially) by Concern, (logically) Logic and (rationally) Rationality.
The Council began, Punctuality keeping everyone to schedule. Concern launched immediately into worrying, anxiety ringing loudly in his voice,
"We all know why we have been summoned here today. We are wasting away; losing consciousness. Without the mortals' worship, or belief, none of us will last long. Not even you, Luck." He had an unnerving ability to make the circumstances seem desperate and hopeless, no matter what the situation, with nothing more than the sound of his voice. Rationality brought things back into perspective, calming Panic,
"Now there is no reason to lose our heads here. We still have options. But firstly, why in all of our Names was Concern chosen to Chair this Council!?" he queried, incredulous.
"We all know what happens when he starts talking!" at this point, the Council erupted into argument, gods (not known for their placid natures) arguing against gods, insulting and retorting. Down on earth, an earthquake destroyed a small island in the Pacific, and a long-dormant volcano killed fifteen sightseers. Arguments in the heavenly realms can have unfortunate consequences.
"Now please, please!"Roared Control, "Let's keep this civil, can we? Please?"
"You're right" agreed Logic, the hall now quiet and attentive once more, "as Rationality so sensibly pointed out, we do still have options. There are several cards up our sleeves that we can still play. An Act of Wonder or two is always good for renewing belief" - Doubt interrupted -
"Yes, but that never works for us! God separates some water and suddenly everyone believes. Whenever we try similar gigs, all the credit goes to God, or Allah, or somebody else. The fact of the matter is that nobody really believes in us poly-deities any more." The Council was silent. They all knew it was true. The gods hadn't felt so hopeless since Despair had his embarrassingly public emotional breakdown.

*Jonunji means 'fire' in an ancient Polynesian language, which is now extinct. The ancient Polynesian tribe had worshipped Jonunji, and named him so. Ironically, the entire Polynesian tribe was wiped out when a nearby volcano erupted during their annual Fire Ritual. The event was something Jon always felt somewhat guilty for.

~J.L.

The Perplexing Profession of Penguin Phil

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Read the first instalment in the Penguin Phil series (The Philosophical Passtimes of Penguin Phil) here!

A long time ago - 7 months and 20 days, to be exact - in a galaxy not so far away - to be precise, this one - there was a penguin. A penguin called, as you might recall, Phil. So, for several reasons (mainly species and name) the penguin, called Phil, came to be known as Penguin Phil.

When we left our hero - because Penguin Phil was a hero, amongst penguins at least, no one really remembers why; most penguins are, in fact, heroes - he had decided to leave his home, and seek a job! Because, Phil (a penguin) was not fond of his home. Sure, if you liked snow and fish, it was heavenly, but Phil, despite his love of fishing, was a vegetarian. He also had a great dislike of the colour white - a dislike not at all helped by the fact that he was, at least, half white. Because he was a penguin. Called Phil. Phillip to his mum, who is, as you might've guessed, also a penguin. Called Phyllis.

So Phil set off one morning, on a snowmobile, because - after, oh, a foot or so? - waddling tires you out. And, you may remember (I'm sincerely hoping you do remember all of this), Phil was asthmatic. He rode and rode (for penguins cannot fly. Unlike puffins. Damn puffins. Remember, penguins hate puffin. And Phil was a penguin) until he reached the far right of the South Pole. Here, Phil was stuck, there was a sea in front of him. Phil was a penguin, of course, so could swim, but really, it is rather cold, you know. So, Phil, using all of his penguin prowess, stood there. For three months. Nothing happened. Phil, a penguin, despite the notoriously good patience of his kind (penguins) got bored. So he swam. Like a penguin. Called Phil.

When Penguin Phil arose, on land, like the proverbial sea Pokémon arising for a battle (but not Magikarp. Magikarp sucks.), he was a litle warm. Phil had swam to Australia, which is, as you may realise, quite a bit hotter than the South Pole. Phil, a penguin by nature, and, indeed by all the other stuff, was rather toasty. So, Phil waddled (alas, Australia was sorely lacking in snowmobiles) to the nearest shop, and bought himself two ice packs. Phil had no money, per se, but he did pretend to be the penguin off Happy Feet to get free stuff. He duly held the ice packs under his flippers, sandwiching them in a familiar chill.

When Penguin Phil, now lovely and cold, waddled (alas, the shop, too, had a startling lack of snowmobiles - or even shopmobility scooters) outside, he saw a man. Men, aside from David Attenborough, who Phil was quite familiar with, didn't frequent the South Pole. Because, men, much unlike penguins, like Phil, didn't like the cold. So this one, a tall, pink fellow with a beard and long hair, was an odd sight. Though, I quite imagine that he was more shocked to see a penguin, like Phil, emerging from the shop with two ice packs and a Mars bar - a rarity for penguins, like Phil, at home. The man said Phil was perfect, however, as penguins were just what he needed for his latest film. And, lo and behold, Phil was a penguin!

So, this is how Phil, a penguin, became the first penguin, called Phil, to get a job working on a live-action blockbuster. The man, not at all penguin-like, Phil had decided, who called himself Peter Jackson (a human, not the famous penguin long-jump champion) was directing a film called The Hobbit and needed something to keep the hat of a fellow called Gandalf (again, no penguin) straight. Phil, as a penguin, it turned out, was the right shape. Soon thereafter, Penguin Phil, in a snazzy little hat and mittens combination he'd bought (by impersonation), and Peter Jackson (the human, not the penguin) were flying over another (smaller) sea to New Zealand to film. Flying. Take that puffins!

Penguin Phil will return in the Puzzling Prosthetics and Peters of the Perplexing Profession of Penguin Phil!

WJ

Am-bish-un.

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Ambition. Am-bish-un. Amm-bish-unnn. It sounds weird and heavy on my tongue. And clumsy. It’s a clumsy word, in my opinion. And my opinion counts- Mam says. Mam says that my opinion counts and Mam says that “having ambition is a good thing, Jonno; it’s something you should get”.

And then I say, “Mam, I would get some am-bish-un if you gave me some money, and let me go t’ the shop.”

And then Mam pats me on the head and says, “You are a silly one, Jonno”. I just smile, cause I don’t actually know what Mam is talking about. Sometimes Mam talks in “tongues”. Mr White told me that. Mr White told me that talking in “tongues” means that nobody can understand you. Or something like that. I like Mr White.

I don’t like the smell of anty-septic. It’s really clingy. And even when I am far away from it, I still think I can smell it through my nostrils. It’s a bit like lights. When I see a light and then go and shut my eyes I can still see it. I told Mam about that.

Once, I went to the shop. To look for some am-bish-un. The shop lady is very nice. Every time the shop lady sees me, I get a smile. And sometimes the shop lady will say “Hullo Jonno!” And I like it when the shop lady says that, cause it rhymes. Hull-o, Jonn-o. 

So I said “Hullo!” to the shop lady, and then the shop lady asked me what I was looking for. “I am looking for some am-bish-un”. The shop lady didn’t understand, so I began to talk about Mam telling me that am-bish-un was a good thing to have.

“Oh you silly boy, Jonno! Ambition is not a thing you can buy!” And this confused me very much.

Then Mam appeared and took me home.

I would like some am-bish-un. I just don’t know how to get it. Mam told me that am-bish-un is where you have a goal. I don’t know how to get goals except in footie, and I’m not good at that at all. I always fall over when I play footie, and my team usually laughs at me. And I laugh with my team, because I am a “silly one”.

So, the question is- Mam says I sound fil-o-sof-ic-ul when I say that-the question is: how do I get a goal? How do I get some am-bish-un when I am not good at footie? If I ask Mam, I will get called “silly” again. Silly is another funny word. Like am-bish-un. But not as bad.

I am going to ask Mr White to get me some am-bish-un. Mr White is coming round to my house later. Mr White always comes round to my house on a Wednesday, because it is a school day. Mam likes Mr White too. Mam always says, when school is over in our living room, that I have to “say thank you to lovely Mr White for helping you, Jonno”. And I do. Every time school is over in our living room.

Am-bish-un is very confusing. I want some, but I do not know where to go for it. I want to get Mam some for a present. To say thank you to Mam, because Mam looks after me. Mam makes me some dinner every day, Mam buys me some picture books when I am good, Mam pours me some milk when I am thirsty, Mam is nice to me when I feel sad. I don’t feel sad very much. Mam says that when I am sad, Mam is also sad. I don’t understand that, but Mam just smiles. I think Mam deserves some am-bish-un, because it is good to have. I want some too, but Mam always says that you have to “think of others before yourself”. I understand that.

I don’t understand much. Am-bish-un is something I don’t, but I will. I am going to get some am-bish-un for Mam. Then for me. No, for Mr White, first. Because Mam always says that you have to “think of others before yourself”. Then for me.

Then Mam, and maybe Mr White, will give me big hugs and say, “Well done, Jonno! You are a very good boy!” And then I will smile, because I like it when people call me a good boy. I try to be a good boy. But I am clumsy. And it is hard to be a good boy as well as being a clumsy boy at the same time. Mam always says I look sol-um when I say that, but Mam also says that it is understandable.

Am-bish-un. Amm-bish-unnn. I like that word. I am going to start using it. Even if I don’t know what it means. Apart from goals. Because I don’t understand why Mam thinks I need goals for my future. Mam says am-bish-un is about future. I say I don’t want future with Mam. Mam laughs.

I can’t wait to get some am-bish-un. Mam will be very proud. And Mam will stop doing the sad smiles that I see on Mam’s face when Mam is looking at me and Mam thinks I am not looking. With am-bish-un, Mam might stop secret-crying that I am not supposed to see, but I do, when we are in the hospital for me.

Am-bish-un will make everything better.

~H

Copyrighted by the author ©

Last Farewell.

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The day was mist and cloud banks,
You came to me and cried,
You told me you were sorry and-
You never should have died.


Thunder cracked with lightning,
There was nothing I could do,
Once dead the dead stay buried, and-
Their mortal life is through.


Parted lips and shallow tears,
You gave a perfect show,
Reasoning with how unfair, and-
Making me feel low.


I cannot just re-animate,
Your body and your soul,
Once a person's fully gone,
They'll never come back whole.


No reasoning will change my mind,
I'm sure you'll understand,
I will not acquiesce to you,
Cannot perform demand.


So finish what you started, Corpse,
And get your business done,
Say your last farewells because-
You'll fade come morning sun.

~H

Actor's lament

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“All the world’s a stage and the men and women merely players, they have their entrances and their exits”.


 Looking out, audience faces beaming and they cling to every word. You search in the crowd to see someone, anyone you know if only for some comfort. You look down and see yourself in a costume that ordinarily you would never be seen dead in, but to become someone else, even if only briefly, gives you a sense of release. Every controlled step you take was carefully constructed over months of work to get to this point. You see your partner on stage who gives you that little reassuring smile that you so craved, and that all too familiar feeling of butterflies in your stomach soon disappears as you utter those first important words. “Help!…”
 -R x.