When the old gods deserted us, when our wells had dried up and hope had left us, he came. When our our pizzas had become dry and flavorless and our hearts grew bitter and ashen, he came.
So yes, now we pray to The Garlic Man in official MLB licensed apparel. With one bob of his oblong and sprouted head, our crops grew strong and true, jobs were handed out like they were lollipops at at the pediatricians office, and love filled our pilates-strengthened cores. Surely that could not be mere coincidence? The Garlic Man protects us, holds us, buffets us against the harsh winters.
And he asks nothing save for the odd human sacrifice here or there. And in the end, is that really too much to ask of? Thank you, Garlic Man, we wait your return to this Earth on June 29th.
