The Gambon and the changing of the tide

The Gambon awoke (if it could be called that because he was always awake) Gambon immediately knew where he’d been, that was the issue with being the creator of the Earth and all things within it. He knew everything that was occurring at any one moment, in addition to everything that had occurred and everything yet to pass. His head did not hurt (if it could be called a head, for The Gambon had neither start nor finish, top nor tail) as he was not subject to ‘hangovers’ though if his memory served him correctly (which it did, it always did) he had consumed a distillery outside of Chiswick at one point. He extricated himself from the Boudoir, filled to capacity with nubile young bodies of both sexes and a myriad of races. The only common feature amongst this sweaty mass of sleeping bodies was that they now carried the seed. They would bear his children, inevitably, inexorably after a 14 year gestation period the next generation of Gambons would spring forth from their respective hosts’ wombs/anuses/mouths/navels and continue their march toward complete domination of the known universe.

Eons ago The Gambon had wandered aimlessly from star to start, disinterested and nonchalant till his wanderlust had subsided and he struck upon a barren rock in midst of the endless universe. We now know this rock as ‘Earth’ yet its true name cannot be revealed to a mere mortal as for The Gambon to simply state it would take a lifetime’s worth of human years, this, for The Gambon, is a mere belch. Maybe out of sheer boredom The Gambon stopped and vomited forth the world, from the deep oceans, to the highest mountains and the arid deserts. The Gambon’s disinterested flick of his arm created what we consider ‘civilisation’ pyramids, sky scrapers, cathedrals and mosques were simply erected the myths surrounding our existence in place through The Gambon’s love of the mindfuck. Maybe someday thought The Gambon he might reveal the whole truth and watch as the tiny human’s individual heads popped with the pressure and complexity of it, he had once attempted to reveal it to Stephen Hawking, yet he had only got to the second word before The Gambon realised any attempt at revealing the true meaning of life and humanities’ role within it would leave the man a shrivelled pea, he had done enough damage and left Hawking quadraspazzing on the patio.

Now thought The Gambon, these impertinent little whelps were spewing forth in ever increasing numbers. These ‘humans’ whose liberal tendencies ensured that they were now concerned with ‘climate change.’
“Climate Change, FUCKING Climate Change!” thought The Gambon as he lay on the seabed (he was sometimes wont to do this).
“These little monkeys know nothing of Climate Change, I’ve lived through the Ice Ages, the melding and tearing apart of the continents, I fucking presided over it, and now they have the cheek to complain about this, THE FUCKING AUDACITY.”

In the process of becoming worked up The Gambon became aroused (if it could be called that because he was permanently aroused) and, as he lay on the sea floor his Leviathan rose to meet the sun and a hot stream of Gambon Magma spewed forth from the cracked and ancient lips of the beast. Mere days later The Gambon’s serpent relaxed and as The Gambon watched the ripples (if they could be called that, for the displacement was far greater) spread slowly at first across the water, gaining speed later, Gambon lay back and trivially thought (if it could be called a trivial thought, for The Gambon does not deal in trivialities):

“That ought to teach those FUCKERS about climate change.”