The void now smelled like cosmic curry, frankincense, and fried miracles. I built a food court at the intersection of multiverses.
Buddha's Stall: "Nirvana Noodles – Slurp Your Suffering" I ordered extra chili. Burned my divine tongue. Worth it.
Jesus' Booth: "Holy Guacamole – Made with Real Resurrection Avocados" He dipped a chip. "Tastes like forgiveness." I asked, "Any tips on love?" He winked. "Turn water into wine. Works every time."
Odin sold rune smoothies. "One-Eye Wisdom: Now with 20% more prophecy!" I drank. Saw a vision: two women, one weaving starlight, one igniting it. The thuds exploded—LUB-DUB-LUB-DUB—like applause. I dropped the cup. Smoothie spelled: "SOON."
Philosophy Break: I sat on a bench made of recycled dogmas. If gods run food trucks, what am I? The customer? The chef? The hunger? Answer: All three. Enlightenment is takeout.
A neon sign blinked: "Next multiverse: FREE with purchase of self-awareness." I paid with a laugh.