Am-heh

24x30 Colored Pencil/Acrylic

Am-heh, the Egyptian god of being really, really awful. He was called 'Devourer of Millions' at work, but his friends knew him as Jesus Quintana. Under no circumstances should you accept his Facebook friend request.

Story

The disco revolution of 1975 hit Am-heh like a cosmic freight train, and for the first time in millennia, the ancient Egyptian "Devourer of Millions" found his calling in the modern world. While other deities were still trying to figure out television, Am-heh had discovered Studio 54 and the intoxicating power of the dance floor. His dog head, which had terrified pharaohs for centuries, somehow worked perfectly in the strobing lights and pharmaceutical haze of New York's nightclub scene. Nobody questioned anything too deeply when the music was pumping and the mirror ball was spinning. The orange leisure suit became his signature look – partly because it matched his predatory nature, partly because polyester was the only fabric that could withstand the supernatural heat he generated when hunting.

The Jesus Quintana identity crystallized during his brief residency as a DJ at a underground club in Queens. Am-heh discovered that his ancient talent for psychological manipulation translated beautifully to reading a crowd and controlling the energy of a room. The purple jumpsuit phase happened during his bowling league days, when he was laying low after a messy incident involving three missing go-go dancers and a very angry coven of witches from Brooklyn. But it was the psychedelic pants that became his true trademark – each swirling circle and dot seemed to hypnotize mortals into making increasingly poor decisions. Other supernatural beings started avoiding the clubs where he spun records, because his sets had a disturbing tendency to end with people walking into traffic or signing contracts written in languages that didn't exist.

By 1979, Am-heh had become the cautionary tale whispered in supernatural circles across the city: never accept drinks from the dog-headed DJ, never make eye contact with him during his extended remix of "I Will Survive," and under no circumstances should you follow him to the "after party." His reputation as a soul harvester had evolved into something more insidious – he didn't just devour people anymore, he turned them into walking shells of their former selves, addicted to the nightlife and slowly burning out under the disco lights. The orange suit had become his hunting outfit, the psychedelic pants his hypnotic weapon, and the dance floor his feeding ground where millions of dreams could be consumed one Saturday night fever at a time. As Thoth noted in his quarterly report to the Egyptian pantheon, "Some ancient evils are just too adaptable – and this one has learned to boogie."