Nick DeHoust: Oural’s Judgment

Suddenly, Oural heard a loud and rumbling noise, like a nearby clap of thunder. Thick, black smoke filled the air around her.


“I am Nick,” boomed a voice from behind the smoke, “god of— *cough* —god of being awesome and— *cough* —hold on.” Nick held his right index finger aloft as if to say “one second” and coughed violently several times. In doing so, he bent so low to the ground that he had to steady himself. His face was bright red and he was starting to sweat. After coughing a bit more, he materialized a glass of cool water in his left hand and drank it quickly. He then wiped away the moisture that had formed around his eyes. Finally, after a deep breath, he spoke again.

 

“I am Nick, god of being awesome and chill, and—” he coughed once more, definitively this time. He muttered something under his breath about smoke bombs and overratedness and making an entrance and then abruptly straightened.

 

“Look, I’m going to judge you now, ok?” he said with a nonchalant wave of his hand. He held his left hand up to about shoulder-level, elbow bent, with his palm upturned and his fingers curled to various degrees ranging from his pinky, which was curled almost entirely inward, to his index finger, which remained straight. His ring and middle finger both split the difference, and his thumb stuck out straighter than did his index finger. He held his left arm and hand this way for the duration of his speech, and at times he squinted slightly to emphasize his calm but emphatic disproval. 

 

“I really don’t like yelling, so I won’t,” he said. He widened his eyes and nodded as if awaiting a response. Oural nodded slowly. 

 

“Alright, cool. I know you’re here to accuse us of stuff, but I think that guy in the temple made it really clear that it’s you who’s being crazy. Besides, you shouldn’t underestimate the unique power of mythopoeia as a way of articulating and bringing truth into presence, which you clearly are. You say you know what's up, but like I’m a literally god. Trust me, you’ve been pretty much just a jerk this whole entire time. Psyche really didn’t deserve any of the stuff you did, and threatening suicide and stuff was kinda… you know… like what am I supposed to do, pretend that never happened? And don’t even physically try to tell me that was for her sake. I mean I guess you did improve the kingdom. But whatever. Arguably, that was kind of all the Fox and Bardia anyway.” Nick paused and looked up toward the sky. “Rest in peace, big guy,” he said solemnly. “And I know damn well you saw the palace that one time, too,” he continued. “Don’t even try to tell me that didn’t happen.” Nick looked at the ground for a moment thoughtfully. He chuckled and put his right hand in his pocket. “And you think all this is on us?” Almost instinctively, he drew his phone out of his pocket, unlocked it, saw no notifications, and returned it to his pocket. “I mean you’re the one who’s out here going crazy. Why would Psyche like you that much anyway? You’re being pretty weird about everything. And you definitely killed a guy.” The tone of Nick’s voice grew in incredulity with each word. He pointed at Orual and raised his eyebrows. “One million years dungeon!” he screamed, breaking his promise. He stood gazing at Orual with an intense and crazy gleam in his eye for several seconds. She shuddered. Suddenly, a large grin spread across his face. “Just kidding, but that episode of Adventure Time had me weak,” he said, laughing. 

 

“But seriously, you have to do Psyche’s laundry for a year. Shirts on hangers. But after that, we’re cool,” he said casually. He finally allowed his left hand to drop by his side. He rubbed his eyes and looked around as if he couldn’t remember why he was there in the first place. 

 

“So anyway…” he said with a deep exhale. He blinked and looked around some more. “I never know how to leave these things, so I’m just gonna go,” he said, taking a few steps toward the nearest exit. “Oh also,” he said, turning sharply, “try to be cooler about stuff in general, ok?” Orual nodded again, speechless. Nick returned the gesture and left, putting his AirPods in as he went and singing softly under his breath.


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