Norman hated his life. 

He was ostracized at school. Kids teased him behind his back. For every possible reason. One day it was his looks. The next, his clothes. The next, because he was poor. He had never heard them out loud. But he knew. And it made him terribly self-conscious.

His home life wasn’t much better. His beloved father was never around. Constantly working hard at his job. His mother was always home, but she constantly nagged him. And stared despondently at those letters. He’d never bothered to ask what they were about.

Norman was truly a boy forsaken by God. 

Every night, he prayed for a miracle. Every night, he was disappointed.

He asked God for many things. Money. Fame. Looks. Women. The usual stuff. He received no response.

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But he never stopped praying.

Eventually, his wishes just became more outlandish. He wished for a pet dragon. A magic sword. Even to become God. None were granted.

Until one night.

On one sweltering summer evening, in mid-June, fourteen-year-old Norman wished for the ability to astral project. For a while, nothing happened. He just laid in bed and listened to the crickets chirping. Then, in a reddish cloud of dust, a strange creature appeared. It was essentially a cube of flesh. It had a thousand eyes, but no mouth. The way it moved was… indescribable. Something that humans were probably never meant to see. Norman and the cube studied each other for a long while.

“Are you god?” Norman finally asked, breaking the silence.

The cube vibrated in a way that could only be described as a laugh.

“Sure,” it replied, “If you want me to be.”

The boy considered this carefully.

“Well, okay,” he said, “What should I call you?”

The cube vibrated again, softly.

“How about… Cyubo.”