The Zenith Throne Room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Or, in this case, you could hear King Aldric hyperventilating into a dirt-covered shovel.
The High Father, the omnipotent ruler of the cosmos, stared down from his towering golden throne. His glowing, faceless visage shifted from shock to absolute, divine outrage.
"You demand an apology from the Creator?!" the High Father's voice boomed, shattering the ethereal stained-glass windows of the realm. "You drag your mud, your beasts, and your grill into the Sacred Halls, and you demand I speak to the manager?!"
Maya didn't flinch. She just tapped her foot against the pristine marble.
"I demand decent customer service," Maya corrected, her voice dripping with ice. "And since you clearly don't know how to run a resort, I'm going to have to leave a very negative review."
The High Father rose from his throne, raising his arms. The entire Pantheon of Supreme Deities—the Gods of Thunder, Fire, Seas, and Shadows—stood up in unison. Their combined auras were meant to crush galaxies.
"I SHALL ERASE YOU FROM THE TAPESTRY OF EXISTENCE!" the High Father roared. "GODS OF THE COUNCIL! CAST THESE PESTS INTO THE ETERNAL VOID!"
Behind the patio table, Demon Lord Malakor covered his eyes. "Oh, the fools," he whispered to Kaelen. "They have provoked the Vacation Mode. We are about to witness the end of all things."
Kaelen nodded solemnly, pulling out his pink notepad. "I am taking notes on her technique."
A ten-foot-tall God of Thunder leaped from his throne, summoning a jagged spear of pure, unadulterated lightning. He hurled it directly at Leo's chest with the force of a meteor impact.
Leo sighed. He didn't drop his tongs. He didn't even take off his chef's hat.
With a casual flick of his wrist, Leo swung his stainless-steel hibachi spatula.
CLANG.
If this were a high-energy, cinematic video, the camera would absolutely drop into slow-motion right here. The stainless-steel spatula connected perfectly with the lightning spear, batting it away as effortlessly as flipping a pancake. The deflected lightning ricocheted across the room, striking the God of the Seas directly in the face and sending him crashing through a marble pillar.
"Hey, watch the grill!" Leo scolded, pointing his spatula at the Thunder God. "I just got the temperature right!"
Before the Thunder God could recover, Leo blurred across the room. He didn't punch the deity. He just slapped him across the cheek with the flat side of the spatula. The kinetic force was so absurdly high that the God of Thunder spun like a top before cratering into the floor, completely knocked out.
"BLASPHEMY!" shrieked the Goddess of Light, summoning a blinding vortex of holy fire to incinerate Maya where she stood.
Maya let out a long, exhausted sigh. She reached down to her foot.
Every demon, dragon, and human king in the room simultaneously gasped in pure, primal terror.
Maya slipped off her designer, orthopedic-support vacation flip-flop.
La Chancla.
She didn't run. She just cocked her arm back and threw the sandal.
The flip-flop broke the sound barrier instantly, leaving a trail of Mach-cones in the air. It bypassed the holy fire entirely and smacked the Goddess of Light squarely between the eyes with a deafening THWACK.
The Goddess was lifted completely off her feet, flying backward and pinning herself against the celestial wall, knocked unconscious by a piece of foam and rubber.
The flip-flop, defying all known laws of physics, ricocheted off the wall, bounced off the God of Shadows' nose (breaking it instantly), and flew perfectly back into Maya's waiting hand. She slipped it back onto her foot without missing a beat.
"Who's next?" Maya asked, crossing her arms.
The remaining thirty Supreme Deities froze. They looked at the God of Thunder, twitching on the floor with a spatula imprint on his cheek. They looked at the Goddess of Light, defeated by footwear.
They looked at Leo, who was casually testing the heat of his grill with a bare hand.
Kaelithos, the God of War, who had started this whole mess, slowly took off his frilly pink apron, folded it neatly, and placed it on the floor. He laid face-down on the marble, putting his hands behind his head in a gesture of absolute, preventative surrender.
The High Father's glowing aura flickered. His omnipotent confidence was completely shattered. He slowly lowered his arms.
Leo strolled up the golden steps to the Supreme Throne. He stopped right in front of the High Father, twirling the spatula in his hand.
"So," Leo smiled cheerfully. "About that apology to my kid."
The High Father swallowed hard. He looked past Leo, down to the picnic blanket. Little Elara was happily feeding a celestial fruit to Marshmallow the Fenrir puppy.
The ruler of the cosmos cleared his throat, his voice dropping from a booming thunderclap to a very polite, very nervous whisper.
"I... I am deeply sorry for interrupting your lunch, Young Miss," the High Father stammered. "And... and I apologize for the dust on the Lady Maya's steak."
"That's better," Maya called out from the patio. "Now, Pavan, Karthik, Aman! Come up here!"
The three terrified Demon Generals scrambled out from under the table, sprinting up the golden steps and saluting frantically. "YES, LADY MAYA!"
Maya pointed at the defeated Pantheon of Gods groveling on the floor. "Teach them how to properly set a table. If they want to be the Supreme Rulers of the Universe, they need to learn basic hospitality."
General Pavan puffed out his chest, his fear instantly replaced by middle-management authority. He pointed a spiked finger at the God of Shadows. "YOU HEARD THE LADY! GRAB A NAPKIN AND START POLISHING THOSE PILLARS! CHOP CHOP!"