the skin of
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the skin of
an overripe mango,
which had been
lying about Olympus
for three days.
Hercules raised his
pants from where
they had been
flopped in the
washing basket, exclaiming
"By the Power
of my blessed
hammer," cried Thor
as he transformed
somehow or other
into Bea Arthur,
giving Deadpool the
shock of his
life. "No way
, my fantasies have
just been ruined
! Bea Arthur's not
even a real
god, you fool!"
Bea Arthur, summoned,
began to sing
"There's a place
in my lonesome
heart for you!"
She fell silent.
But only after
several awkward moments
of making out
with Deadpool who
(it later transpired)
had written a
rather scathing review
of Tantric tongue
twisting. Having finished
his board certifications,
Zeus contemplated his
female companionship options.
Golden showers were
pretty much a
given these days.
Not that Zeus
would say no
to any form
of water sport;
he was rather
fond of the
simple pleasures of
slippery, willing nymphs
and their ability
to experience multiple
unapproved work stoppages
for jet skis.
But ultimately, Zeus
held a very
tense conference with
his personal assistant
about potential new
ways to get
his freak on.
"Sir, I don't
have any idea
what the hell
you even want
from me. Could
you show me
a list of
...," the assistant paused, "
...actually, I probably
can figure it
out on my
own," he mused.
The gender-bending
deity offered up
a portfolio of
decidedly non-pornographic depictions
of nymphs at
play in a
McDonald's ball pit.
And then barked:
"Bring me the
largest, most overgrown
bilberry bushes ever!"
Unfortunately for the
narrative flow of
this bizarre thread,
Zeus was fictional.
And yet, there
he was, standing
he was, just
standing. The bastard.
In a puff
of hookah smoke,
Cheech and Chong
high-fived Zeus
, instantly explaining his
desire for bilberries
as 'the munchies'
from secondhand smoke.
Meanwhile, in an
adjoining grotto, another
Greek god was
gathering his wits
after a horrifying
sexting mishap with
the president of
the European Council
, Herman Van Rompuy.
Hermes had never
had a message
so obscene before
, and he frankly
was tempted to
give up all
his deific rights
in return for
just one more
moment in Herman's
elegantly-appointed boudoir.
"Ho, ho, ho!"
exclaimed Santa Claus,
dropping in from
the Parachute Infantry
Division of the
Canuckistan Socialist Army.
"Is this Narnia?"
"No, it's Olympia,
you jolly personification
of incongruous mythology!"
ejaculated Hermes. He
scrutinized Santa's bag
, looking for suspicious
objects of worship
or other contraband.
Finding none, he
invited Saint Nick
to have some
ambrosia and eggnog.
"Well, as long
as you have
fresh nutmeg, I
can't say no."
Thus encouraged, Hermes
took out his
libations and began
pouring a generous
gallon for each
, setting the carafes
cup of cheer.
Out of thread: I'm going to try and patch this up as best I can. Go with me here. :)
, and two napkins
in a decorative
Out of thread-- sorry and thanks
arrangement on the
backs of nubile
young ladies, who
were specially selected
for their symmetry.
A steampunk octupus
suddenly appeared, though
not before Santa
had fired the
first of several
nuclear missiles at
that dratted whale.
It was stalking
our forgotten castaways
, who had now
eaten two members
and other assorted
things they dragged
up from the
deep blue sea.
Finally, they had
arrived at the
grotto of Hermes
. Thus bring us
(Did you mean, "Thus bringing us"?)
to the nub
of the question
, which they had
struggled with for
lo these many
months, or was
it only a
nanosecond or two?
Who could say?
"I could say,
it was twelve
or thirteen or
maybe even 58.80928012
, but what's important
was the answer
to the question
I was going
to ask my
best friend, Linda.
I want to
know, once and