Consultation 22.

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“Another Goddess? What the hell is going on here?”

“I heard good things about you from Goddess Husbandos.”

“Eh? Is that what others call her?”

“Yeah. At least, that’s what I call her.”

“Then you’re a friend of hers?”

“Yes, I’m the one who first recommended her to you.”

“How exactly did you hear about me in the first place? I don’t believe we’re acquainted.”

“Well, I heard about you from a few of my clients who mentioned you’d done a consultation with their family members. They all had only good things to say about you praising your methods to the moon. I was a bit skeptical, so I decided to test the waters with my friend before trying a consultation with you myself. When she came back... she had a completely different air about her. Like the problem troubling her was no longer a problem.”

“So, you got curious and chose to take the plunge?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“Then, what exactly is it that is troubling you?”

“You sure do get to the point.”

“I just don’t like to waste time.”

“You have a pretty goddess coming to you for advice and you want to shoo her away so quickly?”

“Yes, I would rather get rid of you as fast as possible.” That friend of yours seems to be the type who may easily get the wrong idea after all. I’d like to avoid that sort of troublesome ordeal altogether.

She had an irked expression, but she maturely chose to get on with her story, “I guess I should first introduce myself. I am the Goddess of Shitty Life Counseling for Grandparents.”

I did my utmost to hold back my laughter. I was a professional after all.

“I’m surprised you kept a straight face when you heard my title.”

“Of course. Please... go on.”

“Haaaah. My problem is my clients. They are… driving me crazy.”

“Oh? Driving you crazy? Please elaborate. What is it they do that is getting under your skin?”

“It’s their requests.”

“Ah, I see. I see. I do get quite the annoying requests from many of my clients as well. In fact, I had someone just before you come to simply ask me whether she was a good person.”

“Mine are probably a bit different than your level of annoying requests.”

“Different? How so?”

“Well, they’re all old, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Their requests are going to be very different from what someone like you typically deals with.”

“That is true, all my clients are typically youthful and not shriveled up old prunes.”

“I get so many different types of requests, but… they’re all… SO FUCKING STUPID! Can you open this pickle jar for me... Change my diaper... Heat up my food for me… Chew my food for me then feed it to me... Wash my back... Wipe my ass! Make me laugh! Smell my dusty old fart! Please revel in the smell of my feces! Help me walk my children to school! Help me with my computer! Fix my browser! What’s a browser! Is my browser Windows! Is my operating system Word! I use dial-up AOL, what’s that! AHHHHHH FUCK YOU!”

Bang! Bang! Bang!

She progressively built up rage the more client request she listed off and began to bang her head against the desk like a lunatic.

“Hahaha! HAHAHAHA! Can you teach me yoga? Do the splits for me? Let me see your panties? Please do jumping jacks in front of me and let me watch you? Tell my wife to stay on her side of the bed? Tell my husband to sleep on the couch tonight? Tell my kids I’m disappointed in them? Tell my grandchildren to visit me more? Tell the nurses to give me better service? In my days blah blah blah!”

“Okay! I get it! I understand your problem, I really do. Sorry as well, I totally feel your pain.”

“You feel my pain? You feel my fucking pain? You can’t possibly understand my pain unless you deal with these old farts personally! What was that? Can you repeat yourself? I didn’t hear what you said. Speak up! I’m speaking as loud as I can you deaf fucks! HAHAHAHA!”

Bang! Bang! Bang!

She kept slamming her forehead against the desk. She’d broken. Completely broken. She’d been pushed into a corner from her hatred toward her job.

“Please, believe me, I do understand your pain. You had me at pickle jar. Look, I’ve had my fair share of ridiculous requests. I even had some crazy bitch ask me how she could have sex with a CENSORED of all things. Another one actually asked me how to NTR the entire world.”

“No way. Seriously? And you actually satisfied their requests?”

“Yes. Though I can’t say I’m particularly proud of my solutions.”

“What sort of advice did you give them?”

“Well… in point form… a rod… swirl around… condom... tie it… and use.“

With those few words, her eyes opened wide as she was able to piece together the meaning.

“You actually gave her that for an answer?”

“Yes.”

“How are you still maintaining your sanity after giving answers like that?”

“Just barely. Day by day, with each new consultation, it goes down a little more.”

“Aren’t humans just the worst?”

“The ones I deal with, yes.”

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

“Mine aren’t much better.”

“You actually want to compete over this?”

“Of course. It’s a matter of pride for me now. Here, let’s drink on it while we bitch about how hard our jobs are.”

“Drink? Surely you jest. I’m on the clock right now.”

“You don’t want to drink with a pretty goddess?”

“You’re a client before you’re a pretty goddess.”

“Hmmm. Is that so?”

“Yes.”

She took out a gourd filled with liquor from a rift in space and placed two shot glasses on the table.”

“I said I’m not drinking.”

“Shut up and drink. It’s my request now. You have to fulfill your client’s requests, right?”

“You really think that sort of logic is going to fly here?”

“If you don’t I’ll make sure you get swamped with work. I’ll send out my army of grandparents to spread your name to the craziest of the crazy psycho bitches in the world.”

My eyes shrunk when I thought about it. I already had it bad without any sort of advertising, if she were to do such a thing… my sanity would surely plummet to rock bottom.

“I’ll… drink.”

“Hehe. Good.” She flashed me a charming smile as she poured out some liquor into the two shot glasses.

“Here you go.” She picked one up and held it up to me with a cheeky grin.

“Haaaaah. You better not tell the higher-ups I was drinking on the job.”

“I won’t. I won’t. Don’t worry about it.”

I took the shot glass from her hand and downed it in one go.

“It’s quite strong.”

“Of course it is. This is some high-grade liquor you know. Even gods like us can get drunk in a flash when drinking this stuff.”

“Now where were we again?” She asked.

“We were competing over whose clients were worse.”

“Oh, right. Mine are far worse. Glug. Glug. Haaaaaaaah.” She downed a shot and exhaled out with an overly satisfied look on her face.

“You just deal with some cranky old farts. It’s nowhere near as stressful as the sorts of fucked up requests me and Goddess Husbandos get.” She poured me another shot and I downed it.

“Huh? Why are you bringing up another woman out of nowhere when you’re drinking with a beauty?” She downed another shot.

“Well I heard about her clients and honestly they’re about the same level of depraved as mine. Although I admit your clients are certainly annoying, they can hardly surpass the level of degenerate fucks we deal with every day.”

“Are you kidding me? Did you not hear the perverted shit my clients request from me? Your clients don’t ask you to do any of that stuff, right?”

“Well… they certainly don’t, now that you mention it. Though it seems Goddess Husbandos does have problems with that sort of thing. I think that’s more specific to female goddesses in general. Male gods don’t seem to typically have to deal with that sort of thing.”

“If you were a hunk, super hot god, you probably would.”

“Oh? Attacking my appearance are we?”

“You’re the one who keeps bringing up Goddess Husbandos. Are you comparing her to me or something?”

With each exchange, we downed a shot. I already noticed her cheeks were getting a bit rosier. It seemed she was a lightweight when it came to alcohol despite being the one to suggest we drink.

“Are you already getting drunk?”

“Hey, who do you think is prettier? Me or her?”

“You really are drunk.”

“Stop trying to dodge the question, who is prettier? Hah? Well?” She raised her hand and parted her hair to the side to behind her shoulder.

“You’re acting completely illogical right now because of the liquor.”

“I’m not. I’m asking a genuine question. You’re supposed to answer my questions.”

“Objectively speaking, she is prettier than you.”

“What! Are you stupid or something? You’re obviously supposed to say I’m prettier.”

“Do you have some sort of inferiority complex to your friend?”

“Inferiority complex? Are you kidding me? There’s no such thing.”

“Wrong. I think I understand now. What this consultation is truly about. You want to prove that your clients are worse than mine so you can say your problems are worse than hers because our clients are about equal. You want to feel superior to her in some way no matter how petty it may be and this is the only way you thought of. Am I right?”

“...”

“Not going to answer?”

“Shut up. You’re wrong.” Her lips quivered a bit before she downed another shot to hide it.

“Haaaaah. Goddesses are such a handful to deal with compared to humans. I’d honestly prefer not to get you as clients.”

“You like her more than me, don’t you?”

“Like her more than you? Who can say for sure?”

“Of course, that who would be none other than you who can say for sure.”

“You really are jealous of your friend.”

“I’m not. Just answer my question. You’re supposed to answer my questions, not dodge them.”

“What a troublesome client. I haven’t had drinks together with her before, so I’d say I’m technically closer to you than her from an objective standpoint.”

“That’s not answering whether you like me more. Stop dodging the question.”

“I don’t dislike you.”

“That doesn’t mean you like me. I’m not an idiot.”

“But you are drunk.”

“Hehehe. That may be true, but I’m still sober enough to think straight.”

“Haaaaah. I like people I’ve had a drink with more than the ones I haven’t. How’s that?”

Her eyes lit up a bit. She did her best to hide the smile that crept onto her face by downing another shot.

“Is that so?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re quite a weasel not willing to give direct answers to direct questions.”

“At least I’m not a politician.”

“Hahaha. That’s true. That’s true.”

“There, are you content with this counseling session now? You more or less got what you really wanted right?”

“Hmhmhmhm.” She was in a strangely jubilant mood.

“Aren’t you leaving?”

“Not until you’re drunk too.”

“You’re a real pain.”

...

The two of us kept drinking for a while longer as we chatted and exchanged more nightmare work stories.

Mine were typically grotesque in nature while hers were just plain annoying. Even I had a few bulging veins listening to them.

“Seriously what the hell is with your clients? Old farts are this unreasonable?”

“Yeah! Yeah! Exactly!”

“I might have been wrong before, your clients may really approach the same level after all.”

“No no no. After hearing all your stories, I really have to admit that I find it a bit hard to keep my stomach from churning in disgust. You’ve got it much harder than I ever imagined.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Hey, I’ve got a great idea.”

“A great idea? What do you mean?”

“You know how we hate our clients so much?”

“Yeah?”

“You know how they enrage us to no end?”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t you just wish they’d stop?”

“Yeah!”

“Then… why don’t we just kill them all?”

“YEAH!” Under the influence of the liquor, I’d started to just answer on repeat without really thinking after the first three times. I didn’t even register the question this time I just automatically figured it was something I’d agree with.

“Right? I knew you’d think the same way. Great minds think alike after all.”

“Yeah… wait. Sorry, what was the question just… now?” Eh? Where’d… she go?

I looked around left and right in confusion. Did I blank out from the liquor without realizing it? What was the question she asked me?

Kill? Something about kill? Who? All? All what?

“Hic.” Shit. I’d really had too much to drink thanks to her. I was a bit drowsy as well. I could hardly keep my head up straight. I felt light-headed and woozy.

“Ah. That’s right. She said something about killing them all. That’s what it was. Who did she want to kill? What were we complaining about this entire time? Clients right? That’s what started all this.

I suddenly sobered up and color gradually drained from my face as the pieces fell together.

Kill all her clients?

I broke out into an uncontrollable sweat. I slumped back into my chair and slid down it with a nervous expression.

“I had nothing to do with any of that… I know nothing.”

“Yeah, client confidentiality. That’s right. Gotta maintain that bullshit.”