He grabbed the gun from the goo. The melted marshmallows would make wonderful God bullets. It was God who’d sent him the marshmallows to kill the virus. God was his neighbor. God couldn’t say he was God, so he named himself Greg Oswald Daniel. This was obvious to the Marshmallow Man, God always hid behind acronyms.

The virus had arrived two days ago looking for its next victim. The Marshmallow Man knew it was a virus because he’d been sneezing since its arrival. Anyone who knew anything about viruses knew they made you sneeze, before they make you die. The Marshmallow Man wasn’t going to let this happen.

He knew the virus was attracted to the sound of a can opener. He opened a can of tuna. The virus appeared, it rubbed itself on his legs as it purred. He picked up the sticky gun, God’s gooey vengeance dripping from the barrel. He aimed it point blank at the furry demon and pulled the trigger.

The gun clicked, marshmallow oozed from the barrel’s end. The virus licked it but didn’t die. Marshmallow Man sneezed. The God bullet must need another ingredient to work. He’d have to wait for deliverance.