I'm not very religious, and yet a little god spoke to me on my seventeenth birthday. She was dressed in a little purple robe and wore a little black hat, and she slurped soup from a little white bowl that smelled like something I could get from a Vietnamese restaurant. Her little blonde curls bounced from under the brim of her hat, and she giggled when I stared.
"You know," she squeaked, "it's rude to ogle a deity like myself." She was no bigger than a house cat, and yet here she was, chastising me for alleged impropriety.