At 10 o'clock sharp, am and pm, Eastern Standard Time, a bell rang out that could be heard all across the world. Everyone who was awake to hear the bell turned to the nearest Speech Stone - statues of the new Goddess placed conveniently so none would have to go far to gaze upon her greatness, from which any new edicts, announcements, proclamations, coliseum play by plays, and divine tweets would broadcase for all to hear - and begin the chant of worship.
"Trixie is divine. Trixie's Beautiful. Happy are we to be but mere puppets to her will." At this point, every worshiper clasped their hands together, bowing low to the Speech Stone with their clasped hands held close to their chest. Then came the second line of the chant. "Trixie reigns supreme, from earth to sky above. Happily we offer her our hearts and all our love." During the last line, every worshiper would go to one knee, change from clasping their hands together to cupping them against their chest, and then hold them out as though presenting an offering.
Shortly thereafter, some announcement from the Divine and Beautiful Trixie, manifest Goddess of Earth, would follow. Sometimes they would be of great importance. Some days they would be of philosophical significance. Today, Her Holiness apparently desired an audience with which to practice her singing.
In the flying palace high above New York City - a renovated, retrofitted, and refurbished space ship that now looked like Trixie rather than its former owner - Sam shook his head in amusement. It was amazing how quickly word of Trixie's ascension to divinity had spread across the globe...and how quickly it had been accepted and embraced. Sam's private suspicions involved some little Trixie still being inside everyone's head from back when Trixie had hijacked the Blissification, silently urging everyone who saw or heard her to love and worship her. As for the new regime being embraced...that probably came from very little actually changing as a result as far as people's everyday lives.
World leaders had gathered at first to discover what divine mandates would alter the way the world was run...and Trixie had told them to get back to their own jobs. "Trixie does not have time to deal with all that political and paperwork nonsense!" she had proclaimed, her scathing retort sending the world leaders back to their jobs. By evening, being a politician had become the least glamorous job in existence, and only those who genuinely wanted to change the way the world worked still sought the job.
Of course, Sam's theories didn't explain how quickly those races that weren't susceptible to hypnosis - and thus were unaltered by the Blissification, like the molemen and the Underfeet - embraced her so quickly. When questioned, however, a moleman sage revealed that they had an ancient legend of the Unwarper, one who - when given the power to warp reality to her whim - would instead use her power to undo such warps and restore reality to the path it was meant to take. That prophecy named the Unwarper their savior. And dozens of molemen had witnessed Trixie using the Toybox to undo Sammun-Mak's alterations to reality.
(Later, Sam found Trixie teleporting into the Sky Fortress looking quite pleased with herself. When questioned, she explained she had spent the past few days copying all the 'ancient carvings' of the molemen - covering all their laws, prophecies, and so on - onto a modern, stone-like material that could last for eons. She had then learned the name of the moleman prophet who had brought those words to the molemen, as well as when he had given the prophecies. She'd then used time travel to go back to a week prior and gave him those carvings as a 'gift from a Goddess', thus creating her place in molemen mythology. ...apparently, she'd also made those carvings in the back of the Underfeet cave eons prior.)
All the worlds armies had been united under Trixie's banner as a planetary defense force, whose purpose was to protect the planet from aliens like Skunkape. Of course, this was not to say the conflicts that once resulted in wars were at an end. Far from it. However, Trixie had declared that if leaders of countries were to squabble like schoolboys over these issues rather than talking it out like adults, they should settle it like schoolboys. This was the purpose of the coliseum matches. If some conflict arose between nations, the leaders of the two nations would meet in some form of non-lethal single combat, to be declared by Trixie at the start of the match.
The nature of these combats varied depending on her mood, her tastes, and random thoughts popping into her head. If the leaders were younger men and at least somewhat handsome, she might order them to oil wrestle in speedos. If they were young woman and at least somewhat attractive, she might order the same for Sam and Max's entertainment. Other combats she had ordered were everything from singing competitions, big foam clue bat duels, cheep cheep slapping, clogging, and once mummified cat juggling.
Her favorite, however, was the one she chose when the competing leaders were elderly men: the clown battle. Each leader was dressed up as a clown with full make up, red nose, giant ears, and giant shoes. They were armed with a rubber chicken and a squirt bottle filled with water. They then engaged in battle, smacking each other with the rubber chicken or spraying each other with the squirt bottles. The loser was the first competitor who had to unscrew the bottle top to take their heart medication.
The Freelance Police remained a mobile police force, seeking out crime wherever it reared its ugly head. Sometimes they went the classical route of nostalgia, seeking out the various random items that could be used or combined to solve the case and trap the criminal. Other times, Trixie would handle the entire case with her magic, recording it all for later broadcast on international television so all could see her greatness. If Trixie weren't in the mood to deal with the criminal directly, however, Max would use the Sky Fortress' weapon systems for an aerial bombardment. ...sometimes Trixie claimed she wasn't in the mood just to see the look of perverse glee on Max's face as he pressed all the 'big boom buttons'.
In the center of the Sky Fortress, poised to gaze out across the entire planet, was a massive golden throne bedecked with jewels, clearly showing the wealth of nations. The softest of pillows covered the seat, and the arm rests were wrapped in smoothest velvet cushions. This was Max's chair. Trixie sat in Max's lap. When the throne had first been commissioned, the builder had been confused why it was for the Divine One's father, and not herself. She had replied that no throne could ever be more comfortable than sitting in her Daddy's lap. "After all," she had pointed out, "no chair of metal and fabric - however well made - can come with built in ear scratchers."
And after 10 pm worship, Trixie would seek her bed. Broadcast to the whole world, Max would sing her favorite lullaby. And then, still on live broadcast and not caring who heard, Max would lean in, plant a gentle kiss on her forehead, and whisper the words that had been so hard for him to say for so long. "I love you, Trixie."
And the divine Goddess of the entire planet would smile up at her father, kiss him on the cheek, and reply, "I love you, Daddy."