STORIES
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 and 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 frugal 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 nipples 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 dick 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 certainly does.”

My embarrassment knew no limits and I felt myself blushing for the first time in many years. I
finally 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 dick?”

“Whaaaaaat?”

“Will you show me your dick? Well I actually want more than that. I want to see all of you. I've
never seen a naked 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 naked muse, though perhaps Lulu flashes it around a bit.”

“Who's Lulu then?”

“The muse of pornography. 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 naked. 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 nipples were hard and erect. I could smell
the moisture between her legs. My dick 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, naked, with my dick 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 idiot. I am.”
A God called Bruce
A novel by Hans von Lieven
Chapter 1: I meet my Muse
Chapter 2: Call me Bruce
Days later I was sitting again on the back veranda of my small cottage in East Sydney,
with a beer in my hand and a blank sheet of paper in front of me trying to write. Suddenly
there was a flash and this bloke was sitting on the other side of the table. He wore shorts,
thongs, a battered Akubra hat and a tee shirt with a can of beer and Victoria Bitter on it.
It had to be Bruce, the Australian God of Booze, Barbeques and Backyard Dunnies.

Before he had a chance to say or do anything I reached into the fridge, got a can of beer
and put it in front of him.

“At least you got some manners mate. Thanks.”

He popped the can and took a deep draft.

“Now what is this I hear about you flashing your prick at my daughter?”

“She just wanted to see a human body, Sir.”

“I figured it was her who started it. Did she strip for you?”

“Yes, Sir.” I didn’t think it was advisable to lie to a God, even an ocker Aussie God.

“First of all, drop that Sir shit, call me Bruce. I hate it when they call me Your Majesty,
Lord, Sir and all that bullshit. Bruce will do fine. Now tell me, did you like what you
saw?”

“Very much so Si…. Bruce.”

“You look like a decent fellow to me. You got beer, a barbeque, even a backyard dunny.
This place is like a fucking temple to me.” He pointed at the toilet. “Does the dunny
work?”

“Yes, it does.”

“Good, get us another beer while I go for a piss.”

I grabbed another couple of cans and put them on the table while Bruce did his business. I
didn’t know anything about Gods. This guy was just a regular Aussie bloke, the kind you
find in every pub. I could handle that. I liked him.

When he got back I lit a cigarette and then tossed him the packet and the lighter just to
see what he would do. He shook a fag out, lit it and leaned back with a big grin as he
cracked his can.

“You know, I wouldn’t have minded if you had given Lil a root. Might have made her a
bit less uppity. Pity it can’t be done.”

“What do you mean, can’t be done? I thought you guys were Gods, you could do
anything.”

“Almost anything, my boy. The problem is that fucker Zeus, the Top God. He stuffed that
up for us.”

“What for?”

“Well it goes back a long time. If there ever was a stickman in the universe it was Zeus.
He’d get up anything. After he had a few Demigods running around he had fathered,
Hera, his wife, got a bit weary. He had to do all kinds of weird shit just to get a stray root.
He turned himself into a bull and screwed Europa and then into a swan so he could knock
off Leda. Anyway, Hera found out about that shit too and got mightily pissed off.

“What made it worse was that all the other Gods were not much better. They were
knocking off Sheilas and putting them up the duff, creating Demigods everywhere; and it
wasn’t just the guys. Goddesses were getting pregnant by humans and Gods were getting
sloppy seconds from their wives.”

“What happened then?”

“Well, Hera gave Zeus an ultimatum. In the end Zeus put a hex on us that every time we
wanted to root a human and it was getting too close to actual physical contact we would
fade out of the human realm. We would simply disappear for them. There were a lot of
blue balls around for a while but it settled down and now there is a lot more peace at
home.”

“Does that mean I can’t see Lil any more?”

“No, you can see her if she wants you to. You just can’t screw her. If you guys get too
horny all you can do is look at each other and wank. Done that a few times myself. Not
very good but better than nothing.”

“You guys invented cybersex. I like this. Hang on for a few minutes Bruce, I need to go
across the road to get us some more beer, we’re out.”

Bruce waved his hand and there was a slab of beer on the table. I opened the carton to
put the cans in the fridge and Bruce laughed.

“Boy, I am the God of booze. If I can conjure up a slab of beer I can fucking well keep
the bastards cold without a fucking fridge. You getting hungry mate?”

“Yeah, let me have a look what I’ve got in the kitchen.”

“No need.” He waved his hand again and there were a couple of kangaroo fillets roasting
on the barbie and an assortment of tubs with salads and side dishes on the table.

“I hope you like a bit of Skippy, mate, haven’t had any for a while. Thought this was a
good occasion.”

We were into can number seven or eight when we had a visitor. She wasn’t accompanied
by a flash or anything, she simply appeared. She looked like a more mature version of Lil,
the same long legs the same pert tits and the same kissable mouth. She wasn’t smiling
though, she looked royally pissed off.

She started straight in on Bruce, calling him all the names under the sun and carrying on
about him being on the piss again. I thought that was a good time to make myself scarce
and crept into the kitchen when they weren’t looking my way. Thinking that she was
supposed to be the Goddess of hen parties I decided she might respond to a cup of tea
and a couple of biscuits. I put everything on a small tray and went out on the veranda
during a lull in the fighting.

“I thought you might like a cup of tea and a biscuit, Dear.” With that I put the tray on the
table and pulled a chair up next to where I was sitting. “Sit down, Darling, and have
some,” I said, looking her straight in the eyes.

“You must be that miscreant who tried to seduce my daughter. And, to add insult to
injury, you go on the piss with my husband. God, how I despise you men.”

I don’t know whether it was the beer or her attitude that prompted it. Anyway, I stepped
up to her, gave her a big hug, kissed her on the cheek and said: “I love you too, Darling.”

She froze. She just stood there and stared at me, too stunned to say or do anything. Then
Bruce started to laugh. He was howling with laughter, tears streaming down his cheeks
and as he laughed and laughed Marge’s features softened and a thin smile came on her
lips. Her eyes that had flashed at me in anger before showed kindness and something akin
to affection. “Thank you,” she whispered, sat down and poured herself some tea.

Marge turned out to be a brilliant conversationalist. She could talk with authority on a
number of subjects. I was fascinated with her knowledge. Rarely had I enjoyed talking so
much with anyone. She seemed to love it too. Bruce said very little, having her off his
back was enough for him. It was late afternoon and the sea breezes had set in. It was
getting rather cool and I was about to suggest we move indoors when a leaf blew off a
tree and into Marge’s hair. Without thinking I reached out to remove it, when to my
surprise Marge faded out and disappeared.

Bruce started laughing again. In between bouts of laughter he said “I don’t believe it. That
shrivelled up prune got horny.” I waited until he had worn himself out laughing and asked
him what it was that he found so amusing.

“Well, you saw how she disappeared. It was when you quite innocently tried to remove
the leaf from her hair. That’s when Zeus’ hex cut in. She must have been real horny for
you, in fact her snatch would have had to be dripping for the hex to cut in like that. This
will rattle her. She hasn’t let anyone fuck her in over three hundred years.”

“But I didn’t do anything,” I said weakly.

“You didn’t have to. Jeez, I’m going to have fun with this one. This has been the best
party for centuries. You can call me any time. I better get going though.”

He waved his hand and all the trash disappeared, the table and barbeque was spotless and
there were five slabs of beer stacked next to the fridge.

“See you later, Boy, thanks for the party and don’t forget to call. Cheerio,” and he was
gone.