The PooDuck came toward the start of things.
None of the gods existed before existence, that would have gotten complicated. But it was near the start, when the stars were still re-forming and swirling in the great tracks of not-yet. There, in the heart of something slightly yellow and unpleasant looking, like a nebula gone slightly sour, the egg cracked.
The Pooduck slid out, still slightly damp and confused. The first sight to meet its blinking amber eyes was the red-purple-green exploding, the great billowing swaths and coronas of a new star.
There was music in that time before time and the PooDuck danced to its shimmering harmony and spun in graceful circles beneath its arcs of light. (Later, when they'd all gotten down to making worlds and each picked their favorites, the PooDuck working its way into everyone else's projects, it would install something similar on the small planet called Earth. Locals dubbed it "the Aurora Borealis".)
As the PooDuck spun and dipped, eyes closed and serene, dancing to the celestial music, it gradually heard the sound of... sniggers.
Slowly it came to a graceful stop, and let its downy eyelids flutter open.
There was a host of gods about it. Gods in togas, gods in paint, gods in dreadlocks and ponytails and what looked like slightly ripped maroon curtains.
And they were giggling.
It was an unpleasant, sarcastic sound, bubbling in the back of throat and wiggling out through perfect teeth.
"Sisters? Brothers?" It asked in the language of nebulas. Then, noticing a sort of frog-pumpkin thing huddled by Ra's feet, it added, "Entities?" (Of course Gods are, by nature, gender-less, but receive such titles by their followers who shape their perceived nature. Some of these gods had already created their first followers, little more than manikins made of mud that they were nonetheless immensely proud of.)
"Oh!" It cried, with a voice of ringing bells, "I am no longer alone! My kin, my fellows, you have come! My music was beautiful before but now it shall be a song the greater of joy for our union! We shall sing new worlds unimagined with our song. We shall never more be lost in solitude!" And it ran to Freya, who stood nearest, and flung all six of its arms about her in exaltation.
Freya left it there for a moment, pulsing gently with golden brilliance. She patted its downy shoulder, then carefully peeled away its many limbs. With a tight smile that wanted to be genuine, but was trying not to, she took a step back. In truth, she liked this odd creature who was, to be fair, her distant relation, as all gods are. But she had already learned too much from her other kin. She could imagine the scorn, the mockery she would receive if she sided with this being, no matter her own beauty and power.
It was the start of school, and the new kid had arrived.
(Of course, school had not been invented yet (Lucifer always liked to take credit, but Loki argued that he had had the idea at a cocktail party and someone else stole it) but it is generally held that the attitude associated with grade-schoolers was first developed by the gods themselves, purely by accident. They were newly created at this point, after all.)
The Pooduck looked at its siblings, struck at last by their puckered faces, the way the corners of their eyes twitched, and their mouths seemed to be holding something back.
It did not understand. It was just like them, wasn't it?
It looked from face to face. There was Ganesh, regal in silk and soft ears swaying; glimmering Aphrodite, swathed in celestial after-images; and Ba'al in that weird, furry turtleneck he liked. Off to the left it glimpsed Ra at the head of a lot of weird-headed people in loincloths. PooDuck gave a little wave to Anubis, who flickered a few fingers back, then glanced around to see if anyone was watching.
None of them, not even the ones with seven arms or marmoset heads–– marmoset heads!–– would look at it. It was beginning to get a bad feeling.
"You..." it tried, then stopped at a small thunderclap coming from the vicinity of Thor. Odin, both eyes still in place, gave him a swat. "You," it said again, and kept going this time, "You are... laughing at me?" This time they gave in. Guffaws shook the endless heavens. Tremors of laughter ripped through new-forming star-clouds and tore asunder baby galaxies. A great peal from Osiris shot the still-childlike Eris's ball from her feet, and tossed it into distant orbit around a yellow sun. (Her uncle, Hades, would later name it for himself in a vain attempt to impress his wife.)
As the laughter rolled and washed, breaking against the slowly sinking PooDuck, it sagged to the ground. It looked down at its smooth fingers, each hand a different color, a different length, like some toy stitched from many parts. Just moments before, it thought, it had been so happy. Full of the surety that it was created perfectly, in the image of just who it should be, unique and right for itself.
But now....
Gods take shapes in different ways. They change as their believers change them far more than as they wish to be changed. They are in the hands of others, clay to shaped to a need. But in that starting time, when the only ones who needed to believe in them were themselves, they were as their natures dictated. Gods of beauty were stunning–– Baldr and Freya and Isis–– and gods of the sun were radiant–– Helios and Ra their own small suns. Gods of animals bore their features, gods of the elements were made of water or earth or cloud-dew. But the PooDuck... was not god of anything. Not yet.
As the God had danced, the song of the PooDuck had bound into itself the matter of the stars and the flecks of what-was-not-yet, and shaped a body for its singer. It was shining and smooth, sleek with feathers like river-light, and scales like new leaves. Delicate webs stretched between its toes, thin as gossamer and shining with the glow of the great sun before which the PooDuck sat.
It was not a god of anger, twisted and cruel. It was not a god of kindnesses, beaming with good-will. It was not a god of the woods or of the harvest or of fortune or of travelers lost on the road. It was just... a god.
And no one knew just what that meant.
But everyone needs something to believe in.
Even Gods.
Someone who's always around, who you can rely on to show up when you don't want them, like a rotten fruit or a conscience. The annoying co-worker who always corners you at coffee-breaks, but who you can't quite tel to go away because on some level....
you believe in them.
Gods are the world's constants, its baby-sitters, its familiar faces.
Gods are also very, very stupid sometimes.
And, in a moment, looking out at that proud, celestial crowd, only beginning to catch back its breath, beginning to straighten and wipe its plethora of eyes, the PooDuck realized all of this.
And it realized what it was.
It was what Gods believed in.
Only a few gods had not laughed. Freya was among them, and Loki. A few Celtic deities, crowned in golden leaves and spreading horns did not join the merriment, and somewhere at the back Anubis and Hephaestus kept quiet and still. So they were the only ones to see it start. But all of them saw the end.
The lump of feathers and fingers and frog legs began to straighten, like a doll on strings starting to pull itself up.
The light of the orange sun behind caught on its bill and along the length of its barbed tail, in the dark pools of its soft eyes. And then that light was twisting, shaping itself into something new, reaching out toward the shoulders now straight, tall, touching the yellow feathers and attaching to them, to bone and sinew and marrow. And then the great bird's head few up and back and a great cry rang through all the world, all the edges and spaces of the expanding breath of space, a cry like the falling of an ancient tree. And the PooDuck raised two great wings of fire in the night and they burned like something that could never go out.
All those gods watching were silent, faces red and warm in that unending glow, watching something they would never know the like of again. And as its cry ended and the great head lowered, there was something new in the deep, brown eyes. Something knowing, something wise, and something that knew it had more up its sleeve than you.
And in one beat that sent heat waving over all the crowd the god flew, and was gone, leaving only traces caught in their eyes of the light they had seen.
So that's how things got started.
Favorite Dishes of PooDuck and Associates:
Deep-fried Jello
Jello on a Stick
Deep-Fried Jello On A Stick
Muffins
Pudding on a stick
Bread
Oatmeal cookies
Curried chicken
Oysters on a stick
No duck or froglets or dragon tongue. Or bear, chipmunk, parakeet or human, Or other parts of said holy beasts.
Things the PooDuck Appreciates
Personal interpretations of spelling
goofy dancing
weird noises
playing cards with too few, or two many, or just the right number of cards but six jacks for some reason.
Holidays
Unattractive Sweater-vests
Socks
weird ways of walking
some cats
pollen
hay
hair stuck to unexpected things
the French Flag (under certain circumstances)
missing shoe laces (or, more specifically, the eyelets where shoelaces should be and aren't)
Unusual contractions
Oddly non-attentive internet browsers
trousers
homonyms (some days)
Ducks
Good Omens, the Book and Show
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