[ WP ] Unknown to humanity , there is a god for almost everything . You are the god of oil .

This was n't what you signed up for. Of course, you did n't exactly sign up, did you? But still, God of Oil. That black gold which sits beneath the ground, waiting to be tapped, waiting to be used. Humanity has come a far way, you and your brethren have enjoyed watching them, but the things they did with oil, your oil. It makes you proud. But now though, now the pride is gone, in this moment. It just is n't something you thought you would have to see, have to deal with. 
 
 They do n't know of you of course, the old woman, with her wrinkled skin nude, exposed, she says `` please God.'' That Christian God they invented, he gets all the credit, he gets all of the pleading voices in the night. But they really come to you, or the others, this one comes to you. 
 
 `` Please God,'' she says again. She's easily eighty, her hair as white as snow. Her breasts sag, her dark red nipples pointing down to the floor, where they used to point in front of her. Oil. The stuff wars are fought over. That's what you lord over. But this? It all seems below you. 
 
 `` God, please,'' she says. She has one hand out, palm upwards. The other grips an almost empty bottle of baby oil. Beside her in bed is her husband of almost sixty years. He's taken on of those pills, his erection pulsating. Those are rare. The old woman knows it. She pleads to you again silently as a single drop of baby oil swells at the bottles opening. Without that oil, it's too painful. She's too dry. Without that oil, who knows the next opportunity the old folks will have. 
 She pleads to you silently now. Please. There's nothing you can do, no really, but you still have to hear her. You're still taken to that bedroom in the old folks home. You watch as the single drop falls into her wrinkled palm and she smiled, and you feel nauseous.
