A big welcome to our latest talented contributor, who brings us an ages old tale of gods and cheese, two things we like a lot.

And so it was written and so it came to pass that a Host of the old gods (Zeus, Inari, Wotan, and a couple of those wacky-ass Egyptian ones like Duamutef, Son of Heru and protector of the Stomach and a hot Egyptian chick with a lion head for a head) showed up at my door one Saturday morning. I was, of course, hung over because I had been, der, drinking the night before. Annoyed as all get out and feeling that this was the last goddamned time the Jehovah's Witnesses knocked on my damn door at 7 in the damn morning, I answered the incessant pounding both naked and bloodshot, as one is wont to do when hung over from strong drink on a Saturday morning. But they weren't Jehovah's Witnesses. They were the old gods, come to wake my ass up and deliver unto my possession two things.

"Two things?" I asked, confused and scratching myself in such a way to try to hide my bad self from these deities who I had just met.

"Indeed." Spoke Inari, nodding with Ancient Wisdom.

"Great things!" Croaked Zeus who was also fighting a Saturday morning buzz.

"Oh." I said. "Can I put on a robe?"

And so it was that strong coffee (talking downright biblical coffee here) was brewed up by Wotan while I cold showered my way to vertical. I came out with a slightly better attitude and a little more appreciation for a guy with a Jackal head for a head.

"That's really cool." I said.

"Thanks. I like it too." Replied Duamutef, blushing.

Wotan came out with the coffee and we all sat silently, enjoying the smell for a moment before Inari coughed politely to bring us back to business.

"So, uh, Pete." He said politely, as he stroked his beard, not sure how to continue.

"Yeah. Two things?" I'm good at getting conversations moving, even while zonked.

"Oh, right right. So, we want to offer you a gift and a message."

Treasure? Riches? Money? Penthouse model(s)? The Lion headed babe? These thoughts raced through my head at breakneck speed before rationalization set in that that probably wasn't the deal. Still, a gift from the gods. Pretty cool. "Hit me with it." I replied, perhaps overly eager since there was, you know, always a chance for the gold and girls, right?

"Oh, uh. So, the gift is that, uh, from now on, you can cook the most bestest grilled cheese sandwiches in the world." Inari squirmed as he spoke, realizing that his 'Gift from the Gods' was perhaps a littler underwhelming.

Silence.

"O-kay." I said, not sure how to react.

"Yeah." Replied Wotan. "But trust me man, great fucking grilled cheese sandwiches."

I nodded. "I would hope so."

"And you can like, flip them in the pan and everything." Duamutef continued.

"Chicks love guys who can cook" Proffered Wotan sheepishly.

They all nodded and stared at their coffee, except for the other Egyptian god, the chick with the lion head whose name I never caught. She just stared out the window at the squirrels, licking her lips and sort of oblivious to everything else.

"So, uh" I finally broke the silence, "Message?"

"Oh, right, right" Inari beckoned. "Dua? The scroll?"

The Jackal headed god of the stomach patted the pockets of his leather jacket but came up empty. Looking embarrassed, he apologized profusely in several languages before Inari beckoned him to silence. "Well, the message didn't matter."

I wasn't so sure. "Can you paraphrase it, maybe?"

The old man scratched his head. "Uh, shit. I forget now. I think it may have been uh. No. Never mind."

"Something about Grog?" proffered Zeus but everyone ignored him so he went back to being passed out on the couch.

"Oh well." I gave up, tired and wanting to go back to bed. "It probably didn't matter."

"No," replied Inari, "Probably not. Still if anyone asks, like an auditor or something" he looked around guiltily, "Can you just sort of make something up?"

I assured him I could, thanked the Old Gods for the gift and coffee and they shuffled out the door, each shaking my hand and congratulating me as they exited. With the hope that this was a tequila hallucination, I staggered back to bed, content in the knowledge that I was now the greatest cook of grilled cheese sandwiches in the world and that this would all be over when I sobered up.

Of course, when I woke up well after noon to find Zeus still snoring on my couch and the wicked ability to perfectly cook a certain short order treat while blindfolded and staggeringly drunk (actually a much better chick magnet than I would have ever thought possible), I knew that it had not been just another bad vodka dream (like the time Jesus lost to me at ping pong 12 games in a row).

So, the moral of the story? I guess there isn't one since the message got lost, but if anyone sees that lion headed chick, give her my number because I think she had a thing for me.