."
"Impossible!" roars Chonganda. "I have no worshippers anymore!"
"Well, you do now." I shake my head like I'm irritated. "And don't think I haven't tried converting him. But h e's devoted to you."
Chonganda falls silent for a moment. Again, the fear rises inside me, the urge to get away. What if he figures out I'm lying about being a god? What will he do to us?
But I stand my ground. It seems to me our only chance is to see this through.
And maybe, just maybe, it will work. When Chonganda speaks up, he hardly sounds angry at all . "You mean he really doesn't want to steal the golden barf?"
I fold my arms over my chest and nod. "He adores you. He made me bring him here just so he could meet you."
"And offer up a sacrifice?" says Chonganda.
"Love to." Tommy's voice is shaky when it pipes up from across the sewer. " I'm the world's biggest Chonganda fan. I'd do anything for you ."
"But, I...I thought you were..." Chonganda's voice falters. "I thought you were like everyone else. I thought you only wanted to get something out of me."
"No way." Tommy splashes around a little; it sounds like he's getting to his feet. "The only thing we want is to tell you how much we appreciate you. Maybe get to know you, too. "
The next time Chonganda speaks, his voice comes from across the sewer, over by Tommy. "Do you really mean that?"
"Ask the Mighty Jiggles," says Tommy. "Would a fellow god ever lie to you?"
"He means it." As I say it, I realize I'm not nervous anymore. It feels like the danger has passed.
That, of course, i s when the whole place goes crazy .
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*****
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Chapter 20
"Come with me! " s ays Chonganda. "I will bless you with a visit to my godly realm!"
All at once, the darkness gives way to blazing light, and I shield my eyes with the back of my arm . The smell of the sewer fades, too...
...and is replaced by a thousand more putrid aromas. The sound of dripping sewage also fades, replaced by a twisted symphon y of s praying, wheezing, whistling, splattering...
...and farting.
Dropping my arm, I blink back the light, straining to open my eyes. As they slowly adjust to the brightness, I look around, squinting, and tak e it all in.
Nearby, a river of vomit winds between hills of glistening poop. Writhing orange trees covered in festering boils dot the landscape, pumping out gas through puckered blowholes. Bright green clouds float by overhead, dribbling showers of yellow slime.
Bizarre creatures scamper among mounds of steaming sludge, coughing out screaming pink loogies. A thing like a blue kangaroo bounces from one stagnant puddle to the next, spewing streams of purple goop from the pocket on its belly. Schools of little brown snot-fish wriggle past in midair, propelled by gooey black tails.
All around us, everything i s in constant motion, pushing and squirting and oozing. The creatures, trees, cloud s and ground alike never stop squeezing out, throwing up, or belching out solid, liquid, and gaseous waste.
It' s gross beyond belief. T he sights, sounds, and smells are sickening. But it i s also, in its own bizarre way, something more.
It's like a twisted masterpiece.
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*****
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Chapter 21
"Have you ever seen anything so wonderful ?" Tommy Puke, of course, i s in paradise, running from one messy marvel to the next. "It's like the most beautiful dream I've ever had !"
"I'm glad you like it," booms Chonganda. "It's my personal realm , Effluvium ." H is voice changes in mid-sentence, shifting from thunderous to childlike. "It's the heart of my power ."
Turning toward the voice, I see a black-haired boy standing behind me , wearing a black tunic with a golden cord around the waist . He looks about my age, maybe twelve or thirteen, and he' s kind of chubby. I'm surprised that a god with all that power would choose to appear to us as a chubby little kid .
But maybe, I think, that's how he feels inside.
"I can't thank you enough for bringing us here!" Tommy runs over and gives Chonganda
Learning to Kill: Stories