The Divine Happy Hour

The bar opens at seven,
though time is a joke here-
Kronos got drunk last week and misplaced it.

Gods trickle in from every myth,
shaking off incense and centuries.

Odin orders mead with lightning foam.
Ganesha asks for extra straws, “for multitasking.”
Isis wants her drink neat, “like truth, before they invented marketing.”

Allah arrives late, apologising for the traffic in thoughts and prayers.

Tonight, there’s a war trending.

Dionysus pours another round.
“Ah, the classic plotline,” he says.
“Different flags, same dialogue.”

Jesus winces. “Someone’s quoting me on both sides again.”
Kali snorts into her drink. “It’s always you or freedom.”

“It’s adorable how they think that freedom’s real.
Didn’t they make up some delusional concept for it?”

Ra leans back, amused.
“They call it democracy-
like roulette, but with better marketing.”

Hermes flips through the prayers inbox.
“Request for good grades, a Porsche, world peace-
Cancelled halfway through for ‘Please let the Wi-fi connect’ ”

“How’s the climate situation?” someone asks.
“Oh, they’re manifesting cooler weather,” replies Gaia dryly.

The gods wheeze.

“Recycling memes counts as activism now.”

“At least they stopped blaming us for plagues,” says Parvati.
“Now they blame the government.”

“Season infinity,” sighs Loki. “No character development.”

“Should we intervene?” asks Athena.
“Nah,” says Amaterasu, raising his glass.
“They call disasters ‘learning experiences’ now.”

The bar erupts again,
A cosmic laugh track over humanity’s blooper reel.

Someone raises a toast:
“To humanity,
for making free will the most entertaining social experiment.”

Glasses clink.
The universe tips slightly,
Just to see what else they’ll spill.