God said, “Let there be light,” and launched a special on light pollution.
God said, “Let there be love,” and opened a shop selling corny pickup lines.
God said, “Let there be war,” and built a bloody arena.
Lin Ya looked at these gods, who treated the human world like a playground, and pulled out his little notebook:
“Seventh incarnation of the Radiance Oracle pantheon: expired, dispose of.”
“Plague God discount outlet: expired, shut it down.”
“Love Pickup Line Shop: unbearably tacky, demolish it.”
The gods were enraged. “Mortal! Do you know who we are, ”
“I know.” Lin Ya cut them off, writing “EXPIRED” across their chests. “Mass-produced expired goods should be disposed of in bulk.”
Today, he disposes of a few. Tomorrow, he disposes of a few more.
Once the small fry are gone, he goes after the big ones.
And once the big ones are gone… he’ll find his younger sister, whom the gods took three years ago.
His backpack holds paintbrushes, and his notebook holds a list of names.
This god has expired. That one belongs in the trash too.
And what about those that haven’t expired yet?
“No rush.” Lin Ya counts the stars amid the ruins. “When your shelf life is up, I’ll come calling.”
