[image description: A pointy-eared fellow with a black bowl haircut is shown in profile against a starry background. He wears a rich blue shirt with a black band collar, gold bands at the wrist and a pointy gold chevron on their breast pocket. He holds his right hand up, his index finger covered in a prophylactic. Text reads, “7, Mr. Fon Parr ~ Small God of Vulcanized Rubber”]
Your mother worships at his altar. So, very likely, does your father, your doctor, and any grandparents you may have had at one time. It is by His grace that we are spared the trauma of unwanted pregnancy, the fear of fluid contact, the spread of disease. He has done as much to save and spread humanity as any other god, even those who specialize in pestilence and its prevention.
There are some who would call his good gifts sinful temptations, but they know not how much else He does for his faithful, how many barriers and seals would be impossible without Him. They would be lost without His aid, even if they never use the greatest of His gifts.
Those same gifts pass beyond him now, into realms beyond rubber, and one day He may be forgotten. But He does not mind. There are only so many calls to the celestial orgy one can receive, and only so many desperate prayers from teenagers terrified of breakage one can receive, before a long, long nap begins to feel like the greatest heaven any god has ever known.
But until He is fully and finally forgotten, Mr. Fon Parr will be there whenever he is needed, tearing the foil, passing the sacrament.
Yes, even to your mom.
Artist Lee Moyer (The Doom That Came to Atlantic City, Starstruck) and author Seanan McGuire (Middlegame, Every Heart a Doorway) have joined forces to bring you icons and stories of the small deities who manage our modern world, from the God of Social Distancing to the God of Finding a Parking Space.
Join in each week on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday for a guide to the many tiny divinities: