Dry Spell, Part 1

_{Image credit: 10787 via Pixabay}

“Hi Jenna. I just wanted to let you know that I won't be able to make it tonight. Something came up and I have to take care of this first. I was hoping to talk to you, so maybe I’ll see you tomorrow? Bye, Jenna.” Peter Muxton, or Muxx as his friends called him, ended the call and looked in the mirror. He sighed, letting his shoulders slump. He left the men's room and returned to his date. His other date.

He slid back into his seat. “So, Carrie. Have you decided what you want to order yet?” Please don’t starve yourself with half a salad. He felt his phone buzzing in his pocket and shifted his weight.

Carrie looked up from her phone screen. “Sorry, what?” Her eyes went straight back to the screen. Guess she wouldn’t mind if Muxx took a peek at his own phone then.

A hand gripped Muxx’s shoulder. His eyes slid from his phone to his shoulder. A rather small hand was digging pink fingernails in quite painfully. Wait. Didn’t Jenna have pink fingernails?

“Jackass.” With a final, painful scrape of her nails, Jenna swung her long brown hair over her shoulders and headed for the exit.

Carrie narrowed her eyes at him. “Well, I’m just guessing here but I don’t think she’s your ex. Not yet, anyway.” Instead of more manicured claws in his shoulder, she opted for an all time classic. The slap in the face.

Muxx sat alone in the restaurant, speechless. What just happened? He looked at his phone, where an unread text still waited for him. Something came up, huh?

He signaled for the waitress and paid his bill. His left cheek and right shoulder still burning, he left the bar and walked half a block to where he'd left his car. “Jenna was right. I am a jackass. No more women for me. All I ever do is hurt them, anyway. Please God, all I want is a dry spell right now.”

Muxx looked up at the clear sky, puzzled by the sound of thunder.

---

Seriously? Who does this guy think he is, anyway? As if I have nothing better to do. Well, buddy, you asked for it. One dry spell, coming up.

Goddess rubbed her hands together. This was going to be fun.

---

The next morning, Muxx stumbled to his fridge. The milk carton was empty. Puzzled, he reached for a water bottle. It, too, sat empty in his fridge. How odd.

Muxx got dressed and headed for the nearest coffee shop. “I’ll have a latte, please. No sugar. And one of those blueberry crumble muffins.” He winked at the girl behind the counter. Again, he heard the sound of far-off thunder.

Muxx accepted the cup of coffee. His second sip came up empty. “God damn it.” Thunder rumbled again. The line in the coffee shop was long enough to discourage him from going back for a refill. “Oh well. At least the muffin is good.” Every bite he took, though, tasted drier and drier.

A while later, Muxx sat at his kitchen table, staring at a recently purchased water bottle. He hadn’t opened it. He hadn’t touched it in fifteen minutes. The seal on the cap was perfectly intact. And yet, there it sat, empty. He’d sat and stared as the level of water in the bottle slowly dropped.

“Oh my God. I have got to be hallucinating.” He picked up the bottle and shook it, as if hoping it would fill up again. “This is not happening.”

“You better believe it’s happening, buddy. This is the fulfillment of a prayer.”

Muxx looked around for the source of the voice.“The what now? Which one of you idiots is behind all of this? There is such a thing as taking a practical joke too far. Do you realise that?” Muxx frantically searched his apartment for his friends hiding behind the couch, or speakers and cameras, but came up empty.

“Are you done being in denial, Peter? Ready to listen? Do you remember ending up with a handprint on your cheek and nail marks on your shoulder yesterday night?”

“Yes... But how do you know about all of that? Did Carrie or Jenna tell you?” Muxx shook his head. This was not happening.

“We’ll get to that in a minute. Think back to last night. What did you say on your way to the car?”

He looked up, trying to remember what he’d said and done. “No more women for me? And… something about wanting a dry spell?”

“Did your mom not tell you to be careful what you wish for?”

Silence echoed through the apartment.

“What, no witty comeback?”

“Well, uhm, I’m confused. So… Who are you exactly?” Muxx jumped up at the sound of thunder. “Are you… Are you God?”

Thunder rumbled again, much closer this time. “What is with you people? Why do you always have to assume I’m a guy?”

“So, do I call you Goddess, then? Lady? What did you do to me?” Goddess didn’t answer him. “I’m sorry, OK?” More silence.

Muxx resisted muttering a curse. She could still be listening. “OK, Muxx. You can fix this. Just think… Church! There’s bound to be someone there who knows how to handle God issues.”

Thunder rumbled again, even closer this time.

He winced. “OK, OK, I’m sorry. Goddess issues.”

Sunshine flooded the apartment. Muxx breathed a sigh of relief. He definitely had to keep on Goddess’s good side. “You can get through this, Muxx. Just get to a church.”

---

Muxx cursed. His car wouldn't start. He'd forgotten about Goddess’s dry spell. The empty light of the gas tank blinked at him. Taunted him. “Are you kidding me?”

Thunder rumbled and dark heavy clouds filled the sky in a matter of minutes. Rain began to pour. Not a single drop of rain touched him as he stood there, looking up. Above his head, a round section of sky was free of clouds. This dry spell had some benefits after all. He looked up and winked. The thunder became louder and the rain kept falling.

Muxx pocketed his car key and walked to the nearest church.

Muxx opened the church door and entered a building he hadn't seen from the inside in years. “Hello? Anyone here?”

“Back here, son. Have a seat. I'll be right with you.” A man wearing paint splattered overalls and one of those uncomfortable looking clerical collars stuck his head through the back door, waved at Muxx with a paint brush and disappeared again. Muxx sat in a pew at the back and tried not to fidget.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, son. What can I do for you?” The man came back through the door, minus the overalls. He sat down next to Muxx and smiled at him.

“I think God is mad at me.”

Thunder rumbled in the distance.

“I mean Goddess. Goddess is mad at me.”

The minister had a face that seemed to be accustomed to smiles, with lines in all the right places. “Don’t you mean God, son?”

Muxx looked up. Don’t make her even madder, Muxx. “No, I mean Goddess. She’s definitely mad at me.” The sun burst through the window, illuminating the church.

The minister frowned at this. “Listen here, son. I don’t know why you think it’s OK to come in here and mock my faith. I certainly don’t appreciate it.”

“But sir, you don’t understand. I didn’t mean to offend you. I’m seriously in trouble here. She’s really mad at me.”

The minister frowned at him. “Son, you need to leave, right now.” He opened the door and practically pushed Muxx out.

Muxx walked out and turned back to the minister. “OK, Father. I’m so sorry. I honestly didn’t mean to offend you.”

“He may forgive you, if you give up this nonsense. Goodbye, son.” The door closed behind Muxx.

He stood outside the church and looked up. He heard the twitter of a bird and it sounded suspiciously like laughter. “Having fun?” The bird twittered some more.

“Goddamn son of a…” Thunder rumbled. “I’m sorry.”

On the outside of the church was a painting of Jesus. He stood and stared at it, as if it could help him. “That painting looks nothing like him, you know. They got it all wrong as usual.” Her voice sounded close, as if She was standing right next to him. Muxx looked around to see if anyone was near, but the street was empty. “He can’t help you, Peter. The only one who can help you is you.”

He looked up. “How do I do that? What do you want from me? Do you want me to grovel? Beg? Pray?”

There was no answer. He turned away from the church, shoulders bent under the weight of his self-pity, his footsteps dragging as he walked home.

Continued in Dry Spell, Part 2

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This story was inspired by an art prompt contest hosted by @gmuxx.

_{Photo Credit @torico}

I don't quite know why my mind took me on a Dry-Spell trip with just that image, but I'm kind of glad it did. It goes without saying, but I'll say it anyway, that this story turned out as well as it did thanks to the fantastic Fictioneers of the MSP PALnet Fiction Workshop. I love all of you like a second family. ;-)