All In A Days Work 6

Jug was, by far, the ugliest person on the planet. Male or female (and no one was really too sure when it came to Jug, and certainly no one was willing to take a look), and indeed, ugliest when including a number of farm animals, birds (flightless or not), mammals in general, and even certain amphibians (there was a rumor that toads and salamanders had actually managed to improve their looks sufficiently after a rumors spread that kissing toads cured warts - or kissing salamanders cured toads of causing warts, or something like that).

Amore sighed.

Jug, unaware that he (even Amore wasn’t sure, but he was willing to bet on the masculine due to certain theories on racial survival would exclude a female of any species being this ugly) was being watched, farted. Or burped. Amore wasn’t too sure.

Normally, being a God of Love had plenty of perks, everyone loved you, you got laid ALL the time, and everyone loved you for it, or during it, and even after it, which often led to more of it, whatever it might catch their fancy. But in this case, Amore wasn’t so sure this was a good thing.

He cursed the needs of the Universe that made him actually do some work. But, rules were rules, and when someone needed some love, Amore had to give it to them.

Jug shuffled to another bush.

At least now, Amore thought, I know which way is forward.

Jug squatted down.

Or not. Amore sighed again. This was going to be tough.

“Yes?” The small little figure popped into existence next to the summoning God, tiny wings fluttering. Amore wondered where to start. The tiny expression turned to see what the God was looking at, “Holy snokers!”

Amore rolled his eyes.

“Sorry, but I mean, really, what cement truck picked this guy up and tossed him inside?”

“Never mind that,” answered Amore, not wanting to admit he knew scant little about the art of sculpting, “I need someone to fall in love with this guy,” and right quick, he added to himself. There were literally thousands of lonely ladies out there who Amore would rather be seeing to.

“Huh? Like who, an unfeeling blind sea hag?”

Amore considered that a moment, but no, at the moment there were no sea hags looking for love; blind, unfeeling, or otherwise.

“No, won’t work, but keep on thinking.”

“This isn’t one of those ugly penguin stories, is it?”

Amore arched an eyebrow, “Ugly penguin?”

“Or maybe it was a stork. Look, it was something that waddled, I remember that much.”

“You’re not helping much.”

“Maybe we could have it,” he jabbed a small thumb over at Jug, “kidnap some lady and then the lady would fall madly in love with it and um, well, it could happen.”

“Look, if you can’t offer something constructive,” Amore let the threat hang.

“Riiiight, gung-ga-din on steroids here failed to juggle chainsaws and I’ve gotta come up with something that would love it?”

They both stared at Jug as he struggled to pick berries off a bush.

“Don’t suppose you could make him handsome.”

“Not my department,” and Amore already had a few unpaid debts to the rest of the Pantheon so he didn’t need another.

“Any idea what made him so ugly?”

“Him? You keep saying him.”

“Well, yeah, I mean look at that, um, there, hanging. No, no, not that, next to that. I think that’s a leg there, next to it, swaying. What are you blind, it’s certainly big enough. Or I’m even smaller than I thought.”

Amore peered. He peered closer. He peered as close as he would possibly dare, and decided that yes, Jug was indeed male. And no wonder he was looking for love, “I never knew they could actually turn blue.”

“Well, you wouldn’t, would you?”

Amore gave his smaller counter point a nasty look, “Hold on, I have an idea.” Amore put some thoughts into Jug’s head, which was amazingly uncluttered and straightforward, unlike most human male heads looking for love. What Amore wanted to know it what did Jug consider attractive, what did he think about when he started thinking about those things folks think about when folks summon up the likes of Amore.

Then an amazing thing began to happen.

Jug throbbed. Jug pulsated. Jug began to boil under his own skin. Amore backed up a pace, uncertain if this was such a good idea. His smaller self hid behind his shoulder, peeking out to watch from a safe distance. And Jug continued to throb.

Then, then! just as amazingly, Jug began to unravel! What, at first, appeared to be another arm rolled loose to fall to the floor. That fourth leg found itself connected to the third arm, which in turn throbbed forward to unravel the hump off his back, which flapped with amazing fullness upon the ground before Jug like a third leg. Right between his other two legs in fact. In fact, it throbbed in a way in which a leg was clearly never meant to throb, but which certain other parts of a man’s anatomy was, in fact, made to throb. And, to Amore’s increasing amazement, it not only throbbed, it attempted to stand upright.

“Holy snokers! That was his...! I mean, he’s got...! But it was wrapped all around him! That’s not natural! I mean, I mean, that’s HUGE!”

The rest of him wasn’t nearly as large. And seeing as he’d had himself nearly wrapped from toe to head (no pun intended) he was rather pale. But, apparently carrying around all the extra weight made for quite a workout, so he wasn’t too scrawny.

And suddenly Amore was flooded with a flood of ideas, in any number of liquid combinations, that would settle the poor unloved plight of Jug. But he also knew he’d best keep this under wraps, because if the world ever found out just how ugly it looked to have yourself wrapped up in yourself he might be out of a job.

Or at least dealing in exclusively with a certain feminine taste which required him to pose as a female.