SO, we have a little garden statuary.
My wife wanted a Buddha several years ago and while I threatened to counter with Mary in a bathtub, I got her the statue for her birthday.
Fine.
I went to the local garden store and bought a statue of the serene one. It was about three feet tall, cast of stone and epoxy, and weighted something under three hundred pounds. Barely.
I put it in the passenger seat of my Jeep - the trout car at the time - and fastened his seatbelt.
It's at this point I went tear-assing around town. After all, what could happen? I had to have pretty good karma riding with me.
Turns out, I bought a Buddha that was four or five times the intended model's size and had to return this back-surgery inducing symbol of enlightenment.
I haven't figured out quite how to use this in a story, but I will. The title is too good to pass up: "The Wrong God."
All gods drink blood.
I'm uncertain for whom to attribute the quote; but, it rings true with the world I've seen.
Your mileage may vary.
Some of my miles come with a god as my co-pilot. Doesn't talk much.
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