The Goddess Moxie is portrayed by fiction writer, Moxie Malone – purveyor of dreams, fantasies and the occasional nightmare. She is currently wrapping up a steamy romance novel, The Call, and the first novella of her series, Unlocked Diaries.

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I hate these things. I’ve managed to fly under the radar for eons then Zeus has another one of his brain farts and now we have a friggin PR firm. So, here I am with a public bio, which defeats the purpose of, you know, remaining anonymous.

I’m the Goddess Moxie, the one you’ve never heard about. Don’t bother pulling out the ancient texts. You won’t find Me there. I’ve scrubbed all references to Me and given credit or blame to the rest of these whack jobs. Seriously, these immortals are insane. The stories I can tell. The stories I will tell.

That’s right, Olympians, et al. If you are going to insist on dragging Me into your dumbass marketing scheme, I’m spilling the beans on the whole damn lot of you. Yeah, I’m looking at you, too, Hera.

“Don’t worry,” she said.

“I can keep you out of it,” she said.

Great job you did there, Hera.

So, more about Me. I’ve spent My existence out of the public eye mainly because it works better that way. If I went around taking credit for all of My amazing work, mortals would never aspire to be more than they are. Instead, they’d just keep leaning on Me to do everything.

Mortals: You really are lazing little turds, you know that? Anyway, you know that idea that suddenly popped into your head when you were in the shower, on the can, or in the middle of another lackluster night of mediocre sex? It just came out of nowhere, right? Nope. That was Me.

Mach-c. Mock See. Moxie. Get it? No? Mach-c is sound that travels faster than light. That sound is me whispering in your ear dropping some brilliance into your brainpan. Mock See is that image that flashed into your mind’s eye. I put it there. You thought it was you, but it was Me. All of it is and was Me. And I did it all without begging for kudos, adulation, and sacrifices, unlike some other Gods, Goddesses & Muses who shall remain nameless.

They really won’t remain nameless, of course. They don’t have it in them because they are all ATTENTION WHORES. I give it less than a decade before they are over here claiming credit for My handiwork.

Need examples? Okay. Game of Thrones? Mine. American Gods? Hello? Duh. By the way, you’re welcome, too, Neil Gaiman. Also, Fart Jokes. Yup. Me, too. Don’t screw your face up and give me a whiny, “Ewww.” You love them. Of course, I’ve done other things, many other things, and I’ll be taking rightful credit for My ideas in future posts.

In the meantime, in lieu of virgin sacrifices – because we all know how hard it is to find virgins these days, especially when competing with the Bathory crowd –  you are invited to show appreciation to your Goddess by treating Me to a coffee or by becoming a patreon. Just click the link and promise a little something to keep Me in coffee and pedicures. I’ve grown fond of that hot beany brew, and maybe I’ll share pics of My lovely tootsies for you foot freaks.

Until next time, remember, you never know when I’ll be whispering in your ear. When I do, act on it.

~*~ Moxie ~*~

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