Dear Puny Mortal,
IT IS I, THOR, GOD OF THUNDER, GOD OF RAIN AND GOD OF… farming. Tough, muscular, American Gladiator-type farming, so don’t you dare snicker!
Right. You’re probably wondering why I’m writing you. The fact is, with the economy in such a shambles, a deity’s got to take work where He can get it. Gawd owed Me a favor from way back, so when your postcard asking Him to kill the president of the United States showed up in His mailbox, He passed it along to Me.
But before we get into the particulars of your smiting request, there’s the not-so-small matter of payment. As My old Dad, Odin, used to say, “There’s no such thing as a free lunch or a free smiting.” First of all, you need to know that you’re not only hiring Me, but also renting Mjolnir and I’ll tell you up front – magic hammers don’t come cheap. There are also incidentals like goat feed for My chariot steeds, leather polish and validated parking. So we’re looking at a minimum of two oxen, three hares and a bag of reindeer jerky. And that’s if the Secret Service doesn’t put up a fuss.
This may seem a little pricey, runty human, but you should take into consideration that you’re hiring a professional. I checked up on you and I know that you’re used to asking for things and then sitting back and waiting for some crazed brand-loyalist of Gawd to get it done for you. I admit that I’ve used bully-boys to do a little of My smiting, as well. But, while they’re perfectly adequate for dealing with an Anglo-Saxon warlord, a 67 year-old doctor or a building devoted to peace, to deal with the most powerful man on earth, (scrawny descendant of apes though he be), you need the First Team.
Now that I think about it, My original estimate may have been a little low. If I have to deal with limousine’s with hammer-proof glass and a bunch of trained guys with guns I think you’ll need to throw in a virgin. Actually, make it two. Gawd tells Me you’re a big cheerleader for something called “abstinence only”, so you must be up to your ears in virgins.
So that only leaves the method of the president’s demise. Traditionally, I’m a thunderbolt-and-wind kind of guy, with the odd freak drowning thrown in. But the Hel & Ragnarok-damned brand-loyalists are a little thin on the ground right now and only a handful of deities have the juice to whip up a really theatrical smiting these days. It’s kind of ironic, really. Gawd could do it, but He’s been on vacation as long as I’ve known Him, (besides that, He’s a notoriously bad shot with a thunderbolt). Allah’s followers give Him the stuff for some pretty flashy miracleing, but He and Muhammad never seem to do anything but cruise for pre-pubescent girls. That Hindu bunch could really lay some waste, if they weren’t always laying each other, researching Kama Sutra II, The Second Coming. And, of course, there’s Buddha, but like His bumper sticker says, “Buddha Don’t Smite.”
So you’ve got two choices of smite and I’ll get started as soon as you’ve chosen. If you’re a traditionalist and want to go with thunderbolts, if I get a good run-up on a shag carpet I could give him a really nasty static shock… which I may have to repeat a number of times to actually kill him. Patience would be key in that scenario and I don’t think you’re any more patient than I am. Or, I could go with a farm-related smiting. I might be able to pull off an exploding cow, but it’s more likely to work if I leave a rake lying on the White House lawn and wait for him to step on it. Let Me know.
QUAKE AND QUAIL, INSIGNIFICANT CREATURE, FOR I AM,