To the Aztecs, he was known as Tlaloc, god of rain and thunder. To the mayas, he was known as Chaac. To his friends, he was just Pedro.

Throughout the ages he had taken many names and forms, but this current one was probably the most confusing and complicated he had ever dared to posses. Seeking a break from god duties, back in the 1970s, he had taken the form of a ceramic Chaac Mool sculpture in Mexico City. For several years, he meditated and cleared his mind as he laid there perfectly still just staring into nothing. He enjoyed evesdropping on the conversations the mortals would have when they thought no one was listening.

One of his owners, a portly and jovial dealer of antiquities, was married to a woman while having a secret family with a second woman, hidden away in a third floor apartment around the corner of his shop, all while having relations with his secretary twice a week in the backroom.

To Chaac, women seemed super complicated creatures. Chaac never understood why this man would try and keep three of them at the same time. It seemed hard enough to keep one of them content, how could this little man keep three of them happy? It seemed to Chaac that this little man would be way better off alone, without the constant torture of ‘Does she know? Does she suspect? Did she notice? Crap, is it ketchup or lipstick? …’

As a ceramic statue, Chaac enjoyed being by the window and watching people go by. On rainy days, he delighted himself watching the people scurrying around trying to find shelter from the rain. It was on those days he exercised his godly powers and had some fun at the expense of some poor fools.

Chaac would pool an absurd amount of water into one low area of the street and wait for the right moment. There were always women walking with their school children, beggars sitting on the sidewalks, easy targets, but Chaac had a deep sense of social justice. There was always a smartly dressed man with an oversized umbrella, on the sidewalk, waiting for a chance to cross to the large government building across the street. Chaac always chose these uptight, fancy, business types to mess with and would wait for the right moment to strike.

The target would find the perfect spot to cross. The one spot that was perfectly dry. As soon as he placed his foot off the sidewalk and on the street, Chaac would swiftly move the pool of water and the business man would end up sinking his leg all the way to up his calf in cold water. Other times, he would direct the water splashed by cars straight onto their faces. Chaac couldn’t hear it, but he could read their lips: “¡Mierda!”

Moments like these made Chaac feel alive, a reminder of his godly nature.

One day, one of these uptight business types that Chaac enjoyed tormenting walked into the store and started to inspect him.

“A natural sized Chaac Mool statue. I have been looking for one. Is it real?”, he asked as the little portly man walked over.

“Yes. It was found in a dig not to far from here.”, was his reply.

“If you knock off twenty pesos off the price, I will take it.”

“You caught me in a good mood, so yes…”

Chaac listened to the conversation and realized what was about to happen. This upright business man was about to take him to his house. It was here that Chaac had the brilliant idea. He had been a human many times before, but never a modern human.

Chaac summoned some of his godly powers to read the soul of this man to see if his plan would work. The man’s name was Filiberto. He lived an extremely boring life and was unliked by his coworkers because of his insane refusal to bend rules.

It was going to take some effort, but Chaac was going to become Filiberto.