A God called Bruce

I meet my Muse

I am a writer, at least that's what the taxation department reckons, and since I kind of scratch a living with my scribbles, perhaps they are right.

Four weeks ago my girlfriend had given me the flick and taken off with a footballer. I hadn't been able to write anything since. My mind was a blank. My muse had deserted me.

I had to come up with something soon though. Even my simple lifestyle needs some income to be sustainable. So, here I was, feeling sorry for myself, sitting in my backyard with a can of beer, watching a steak sizzle on the barbeque when she showed up. The pale blue diaphanous gown she wore concealed little of her features. I was so taken with her looks that I completely forgot to be surprised about her just materialising in front of me.

The colour change around the pert n*****s that strained the thin fabric was clearly visible, so was the dark patch of her pubic triangle. And the legs. Oh those legs - long well formed and delicious. With so much on display it took a while before I looked at her face. Well, you can't blame a guy for getting his fill of such a landscape, it is rarely on offer and you can look at faces every time of the day. When I finally did get around to looking at her face the first thing that struck me was that amused smile; more a grin really. She was obviously amused by my staring and the effect she was having on me. She had shoulder-length raven black hair, dark eyes and pouty lips that seemed to be made for kissing. My d**k was making handstands in my pants.

The girl laughed, pointed to my erection and said with a broad Australian accent: "I don't know if you like me, but your old fellow sure does."

My embarrassment knew no limits. I felt myself blushing for the first time in many years. Finally I got a grip on myself and asked: "Who are you and how did you get in here?"

"My name is Lil. I am your muse. Being a writer, I take it you know what a muse is."

"You're having me on, there is no muse called Lil. Muses have names like Clio, Calliope and Terpsichore. Even I know that."

"You're talking about those boring old Greek ones. They are still around of course, but even the Gods have to move with the times. There was no science fiction in those days, so there was no muse for it. Now there is and I am it. Lil, the muse of science fiction, at your service."

"I don't believe you."

"You're being a dreadful bore you know. I better show you then. Look at me."

Lil waved her hand and disappeared from view. I stared at the empty space with my mouth open and watched as a shadow appeared that solidified slowly into a recognisable form and became Lil once more.

"Alright, I am convinced. Why are you here?"

"Until now all you ever needed was a bit of a nudge here and there and you would write. This time I think you need a kick in the pants to get going again. I am here to deliver it."

"You seem to know everything about me, how about telling me something about yourself? Do you have a mum and dad or are you just there?"

"You're funny. Of course I have a mum and dad. Dad is Bruce, the Australian God of Booze, Barbeques and Backyard Dunnies."

"Now I know you are taking the Mickey out of me."

"Not at all. Everything on this plane of existence needs a God to look after it or it couldn't function. Someone has to be in charge. What you call laws of nature, physics, chemistry and so forth are in reality Gods. The ancients had it right, you guys are all screwed up about such things."

"Alright for the moment. What about your mum?"

"My mum is Marge, the Goddess of Hen Parties. I also have a younger brother. Jack is the Patron Saint of Dirty Ditties."

"Patron Saint of Dirty Ditties?"

"In this job females are called muses, males are called patron saints."

"This is just too weird for me to swallow, I must admit it would make a good story though."

"Don't you dare dragging my family through the tabloids. My dad would get really pissed off, and when he gets like that you don't want to be around."

She looked at me intently, especially at my erection, which was still prominently on display. Finally she pointed at it and said: "Does this thing ever go down?"

Here I went blushing again. I managed to stammer: "It's your fault. You are an extraordinarily exciting sight. How can a mere mortal resist your beauty."

"That's nice. Will you show me your d**k?"

"Whaaaaaat?"

"Will you show me your d**k? Well I actually want more than that. I want to see all of you. I've never seen a n***d human male."

"I dunno 'bout that."

"Go on, take your clothes off, I'll take mine off too. You would be very privileged. Few Humans have ever seen a n***d muse, though perhaps Lulu flashes it around a bit."

"Who's Lulu then?"

"The muse of p*********y. Now, are you going to take your gear off or what?"

I wanted to see her so badly and who knows what would happen once we were both n***d. I started to take my gear off, never taking my eyes off her as she moved out of her gown. She was delicious. She was very excited, I could see that. Her n*****s were hard and erect. I could smell the moisture between her legs. My d**k was so hard it hurt, screaming for release. We stood facing each other about six feet apart. I walked up to her and it seemed the closer I came to her the more ethereal she became. I reached out, trying to touch her but when my hand was almost there she disappeared altogether.

She was gone, leaving me standing there, n***d, with my d**k poking a hole into the clouds.

In frustration I yelled to the heavens: "I am not amused."

There was a giggling in the air loud and distinctive. The fence, the grass, the few plants, even the barbeque seemed to laugh at me and a voice – that voice:

"Of course you are not a muse, you i***t. I am."