‘Thursday?’
‘Thursday.’
Why Thursday?’
‘It is the only one we have left. You should have been here for the meeting.’ The Goddess shuffled the papers on her desk without looking up at him. ‘Nobody else wanted it.’
‘Why not?’
‘The Goddess shrugged. ‘I don’t know… personally I’ve never liked Tuesdays….’ She looked up at him. ‘Anyway, from now on Thursday will be known as Plunkday. All right?’
Plunk nodded. Of the many things he’d wished for over his short but troubled life none of them had involved either being a… the weather god, or having a day of the week named after him.
Now he had both.
The Goddess smiled brightly. ‘Happy?’
‘No.’ Plunk shrugged. ‘I wasn’t happy before… before all this….’ He looked around at the strange room the Goddess called her office. ‘But now I’m unhappy and dry, rather than unhappy and wet, so I’m not complaining, mind.’
The only other room Plunk had ever seen called an office was also… in politer company known as the privy. So, he had been a little perturbed when the Goddess first said she wanted him to meet her in her priv… her office.
Even now he was a bit suspicious of the rather luxurious and comfy seat she was using. But it did swivel and Plunk took a little comfort in the idea that few people… or even gods, for that matter, would want a swivelling privy seat… or would they?
He didn’t know any more.
This becoming a god… becoming the new weather god… was turning out to be much more complicated than he imagined.
The Goddess pushed a piece of paper across the table she called her desk towards him. ‘Sign here.’
‘What?’
She tapped the piece of paper at the end closest to Plunk. ‘Sign here.’
‘How?’
‘You know just write your na….’ She looked at him ‘You can’t write can you?’
Plunk shook his head. ‘Not much call for it, herding ducks.’
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