Tool the God

The great god Tool observed the world with a sense of indifference and apathy from his seat on the moon. It was the first day of the week, Toolsday. And though today was the day named after Tool, the lord of thunder did not much appreciate his day of worship. Tool's status among the gods arose out of a mixture of pity among the elder gods and an admiration for how much Tool has accomplished with a bizarre race of evolved apes. These human type things were the exact opposites of the gods, they fought, they ate, they slept, they drank and had copious amounts of sex... well the gods did that too, but the humans did it to the point where they died. His worshippers would gather, as they do, every Toolsday, and they would shout at great length and without a shred of irony, "Praise the mighty Tool! All hail, the mighty Tool!" and so forth. It had become a point of mockery for the rest of the pantheon and Tool would arrive merely due to the fact that the worship of Tool has spawned an industry of religion upon the face of the world resulting in armies many times greater than any other god alongside a very questionable need for these people to build phallus shaped things that ruined them economically and usually involved them enslaving each other. Consequently, Tool became the eponymous king of the gods. Not that any god would be stupid enough to wage war on another god. Even, Paxus the trickster god, knows that a war between immortals is basically just a war of who gives up out of sheer boredom. The human things did enough of the warring and killing and other stuff mentioned before. Tool tried to reason with them. Be nice. Don't be a douche. Don't take each other's stuff. Don't set fire to sheep. He sent them his only begotten son, whom they killed. He sent them some basic rules, which they bastardized, rewrote, lost, found, pirated, plagiarized, embellished, lost again and rewrote out of sheer boredom. Any consequent inconsistencies that arose out of such poetic licence was merely written off as inspired by the never-before-seen imaginary third party spirit of the ghost of Tool, who was Tool, but wasn't, but still was, or something like that. Tool ignored this, as all this waffle, abuse and self confirmation created a beautifully militarised system which worked on paper at the very least. Yes they raped their kids, beat their wives and harassed homosexual people (because let's face it, the religious right has no healthy sex life of their own so they have to get vicariously involved in other people's sex lives), but ultimately, it worked, and Tool was happy, the people were miserable, but Tool decided there's precious little he could do about that, and the other gods were happy that they didn't have to deal with this marauding bunch of morons that spread across the face of this dusty ball in space like a banker that has only recently realized that he's overextended himself financially.

-o0o-

I really should explain what's happening here. I read an article a while ago, the name and source of which eludes me for the time being, but I will source it when I remember. But the article basically said that if you want to improve your writing while undergoing a writer's block, write short burst of microcosmic stories as often as you can. This will improve your writing and your storytelling.