Rebirth of Vac, the Dead God

After a while it became somewhat obvious that sky panda ninja was drunk. Or, at least, not entirely sober.

There was a strange something in the glint, like danger danger and that constant threat of magic-assisted suicide. The glitch in the smile shot malice, bone-chipping mustard-breathing fire-talking peppermint-popping fizz. A madness.

The brain didn’t work cleanly anymore- there was a dark smear on the inside of the skull where the oily mechanic had wiped his brow, forgetting the pristine leather and polished bone china. All of these carefully-considered apostrophes and hidden gems, memories and mammal-instincts were just hiding behind the mask ready to unlatch and catch on every thought, every action, every word.

She heard.

There was a sudden unspeakable silence as the glint caught the shape, and the glitch caught the match that caught flame. A cigarette. Someone hunched in the dark, in the new light.

Bilboa shook nervously in the cold as she met Liam’s eye. You’ve got company, she said, her ridiculous fluffy white coat ludicrous against her tiny scribbled face and wept wild black hair. Don’t make any sudden movements. The emotion, the God, is coming. Vac the vacuum. The vacuous. He’s here.

And with that the mantle cracked, split with a snap and tearing of chunked rock, spitting and scattering hot stones. Mosquitos poured into the cavern and danced, oblivious, thousands of them circling and spiralling around in the black.

Their form became human.

The blood in their stomachs became the blood in his veins.

Vac stirred- his rainbow halo stuttering and starting as the dull white light in his eyes spluttered to life. A sad, cold, weary fire.

Vac looked immediately bored. He looked from Bilboa to sky panda ninja and back again before sighing deeply. His soft little voice barely reached them when he finally spoke.

“Pub, anyone?”