“Will you fight for me?” God asked him confidently “Fight for you? I barely know you,” The Fighter said quietly. “I know you, though,” God said. “No, you don’t.” “Yes, I do.” “What am I, then?” “You’re someone to believe in,” God said, with a smile, more warmth coming off of him. “You’re wrong. I’m not that. I’m a degenerate. My body is broken . I don't have anything left inside of me. The fire is out. The drive is gone. It died. I killed it. And you . . . you kill

Chapter 5 The Fighter was drunk when they finally found him. Very drunk . Not the fun kind of drunk, but the type of drunk that only miserable people can attain. He was poisoning himself with alcohol, but it was obvious that his tolerance to alcohol was so high that a normal amount of drinking for a man his size wasn’t enough poison for him to reach his goal. No matter how much he drank, he never got as drunk as he used to get. That didn’t stop him from trying, though. H

The river runs the wrong direction. “The afterlife is postponed,” said Heaven. “I am the king of everything!” said the homeless man outside of the 7/11. “I need you to lead me!” pleaded the poet’s girlfriend. “I need you to bleed me dry while I get high,” said the poet to his girlfriend. “I need you to love me even when I push you away,” said the poet’s wife. “I need another drink,” said the extremely handsome poet. “I need you to make love to me again,” sa

Chapter 4 Coming down to Earth had a strange effect on God. Rubbing his eyes, and fighting off a headache, God felt disoriented. “Where is he?” God asked. “He was around here last year,” Trevor stated, looking around in confusion. “Last year ?” God asked. “That’s a long time for them, isn’t it?” “Time works differently for them down here,” Trevor answered him, patiently. “How different?” “Let’s see,” Trevor said, tapping his chin, “1 year for them is .2341 seconds fo