Excavating the Subbasement of Deity

Don't expect Qaotlkumquatquetzalquat to want eggs for breakfast. As you know, Quetzalcoatl is slated to appearby which I mean reappearin three years, give or take. Since he's been here before, the act of returning will be a relatively straightforward matter, but not every deity owns a reliable timepiece.

Take, for example, Quetzalkvetch and Coatlkvetch, the dissimilar twins abandoned at birth by Quetzalcoatl's mother, who had little desire to multiply by three the dissonant clang of odd consonants rubbing against displaced vowels every evening at suppertime. Cursed with a poor sense of timing and no wrists on which to hang wristwatches, their return to various worlds led to embarrassment when it became evident that they weren't returning so much as arriving for the first time, which, while dramatic, isn't at all the same thing. Sacrifices are difficult to plan when no one is sure which deity might be expecting one, and if there's one thing a vegan deity can't stomach, it's a big plate of hardboiled eggs left on the alter overnight.

Of course, these issues won't be a problem for Qaotlkumquatquetzalquat, Quetzalcoatl's third cousin twice removed, who had the foresight to nip such problems in their respective buds long before they had the opportunity to ruin her schedule, or her appetite. Her entourage will include a jeweler to freshen the battery in her chronograph, and a botanist, whose responsibility it is to prepare the lotus blossoms that form the foundation of Qaotlkumquatquetzalquat's healthful diet.

What lies below that foundation is anyone's guess. After all, no one could expect Qaotlkumquatquetzalquat to carry a shovel in her purse, or a backhoe. That would be absurd.


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