Small Gods (Discworld, #13)

by Terry Pratchett

One of the goddesses had been having some very serious trouble with her dress, Brutha noticed; if Brother Nhumrod had been present, he would have had to hurry off for some very serious lying down. “Petulia, Goddess of Negotiable Affection,” said Om. “Worshiped by the ladies of the night and every other time as well, if you catch my meaning.” Brutha’s mouth dropped open. “They’ve got a goddess for painted jezebels?” “Why not? Very religious people I understand. They’re used to being on their—they spend so much time looking at the—look, belief is where you find it. Specialization. That’s safe, see. Low risk, guaranteed returns. There’s even a God of Lettuce somewhere. I mean, it’s not as though any one else is likely to try to become a God of Lettuce. You just find a lettuce-growing community and hang on. Thunder gods come and go, but it’s you they turn to every time when there’s a bad attack of Lettuce Fly. You’ve got to . . . uh . . . hand it to Petulia. She spotted a gap in the market and filled it.” “There’s a God of Lettuce?” “Why not? If enough people believe, you can be god of anything . . .”