77 Nameless Love Gods

By David Macpherson

Gods don’t start with names. They have to earn them. There is schooling and testing and good luck. Gods want names. In the institute that teachers would be gods of love, there is tremendous competition. The gods sit about studying. They complain about their teachers. They tell tales. Everyone tells tales. Even those without names.

• Language: English
• Publisher: David Macpherson
• Release date: Feb 3, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386913665

Book preview

77 Nameless Love Gods

David Macpherson

Seventy Seven Nameless Love Gods

By David Macpherson

Cover designed by Lea Deschenes

Copyright 2018

Contact David at [e-mail]

For Heather and George

The first nameless love god upends a basket of dried laundry on the bed and folds and organizes them. When she reaches the socks she sighs. It’s always the same, she says. They never match right. They are always some I get a pair out of. Like this one, this argyle and this argye. A perfect match. They get put away, though I probably will wear them tomorrow, they are super adorable. But look at this one, this striped one, and there is no match. Maybe this one should be a match. they are so similar, but look at this stripe, it’s magenta. and the other is aqua. Identical, except for that. And aqua and magenta, this is not a color fading issue from the warm water cycles. It’s like one changed and the other didn’t. I know, this is the natural progression of things, or at least that’s what we are taught. One part of the pair changes. And it can compliment the whole, or it can just look wrong. Like this. She tosses the pair toward the trash barrel and gets them in as if she has done this before. I go through more socks this way. And cute socks are not cheap. She continues with the laundry. Then there are the times when the sock is just missing. Gone. Like one of them had it and just exploded into particles. Sometimes that’s for the best. The socks were thinning, losing shape. An exit ain’t the worst thing. Or maybe it just fell out of the basket when I was coming from the laundry room. She puts two purple socks together and they shudder when they touch.

The second nameless love god stands in the middle of the common room brandishing a daisy. The first thing one wonders is, where did he find a daisy this time of year, but the question is lost in observing his behavior. He places two fingers on a petal and soundly pulls it free. He loves her. He pulls another petal, He loves her not. He continues with the ritual. It is only after several minutes before we notice that the petals are still available to be pulled. There is an unending supply of petals to rend free. The discarded petals are pooled around his feet, growing into a mound. He loves her, he loves her not, he loves her, he loves her not. A group of nameless love gods gather, taking bets on how long he will keep this up.

The third nameless love god is at the study carrel she staked out and calls her own. She is preparing once again for the Exam for the Preliminary License. She removes her ear buds when she realizes she is not alone, They never talk about this test. The Prelim is just a step to get fully accredited. What you need to do to get your fieldwork. People talk about the fieldwork, they never go on about the Prelim test. I have failed twice now. I will never be a full love god at this rate. I never will get a name. I always thought that having a name is no big deal. But that’s before I blew the Prelim exam. Now, its all I think about. Yeah, I know, this kind of attitude is not going to help me with the test, but you tell me how to stop thinking about it. She puts her ear buds back and opens up the next book that has hundreds of pages of information she needs to know perfectly.

The fourth nameless love god is rocking the leather jacket, like he does these days. He is standing in line at the cafeteria and is looking up toward the sky, as if posing for a Greek statue. The girls behind whisper and twitter, He’s going for the Adonis tract, of course he is. Look at his hair. And the shoes. The fourth nameless love god hears this. Of course he hears, this, why dress like this if you don’t want to hear things about yourself. It’s the jacket, he says, I could come out with bed head and stinky old work pants and there would be Adonis talk, as long as I have the jacket. That’s what makes me a candidate for Adonis status, I know what to wear. Like a knight picking the right sword for the battle. I got me the jacket. It’s classic. He is nudged from behind, because without realizing it, it is his turn to pick his sandwich. He gets the chicken salad on wheat. It’s classic, he says again, though in reference to what is unclear.

The fifth nameless love god is looking for someone to play Rockem Sockem Robots with. He picked it up at a yard sale the other day and has cleaned it and made the mechanisms move. No one wants to play it with him. A few guys at first were excited about playing, hitting and making the robot head shoot up after a good punch to the kisser. They got annoyed because it doesn’t play like the box says it should. These robots don’t hit, they just lean in and try to hug each other. I don’t get it, whatever I do to the workings, these fellas just want to hug. No hitting here. I try to tell the guys that its a rare version of the game, that they are wrestlers and not boxers, but no one’s fooled. But it’s still fun. You should try it. It’s fun to play games like when we were kids. Even if they don’t do what we expect or remember them to do.

The sixth nameless love god lays on the floor of her room, her feet on the bed. She was doing stomach crunches and now has stopped, thinking of milkshakes. "When I get my name and become a full love god, I want to be a big fat goddess.