Tag: myth

Waiting for the hammer to fall

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Sinner… spared.
Bus full of nuns… fried.
Child molester… spared.
Honorable soldier… fried.
Al Franken… spared.
Paul Harvey… fried.
“THOR!” yelled Odin.
The Father of The Gods scowled.
Thor’s thunderbolts had become increasingly wild over the past century, concerning his father Odin to the point where he consulted an orthopedic surgeon.
Thor was scheduled for Tommy John surgery a month ago, and after a few months of therapy and weight-training, it is my professional opinion that he’ll be as good as new.
Before he headed back to Asgard, he said “Thank you” and left me this hammer. Isn’t it cool?

Twelve Other Labors

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Cocaretzi is a Greek dish of stuffed ox intestines
It is also the name of Heracles’ cousin. He was similrarly tasked with twelve labors.
Most of them involved solving petty disputes between neighbors. One was getting a bad wine stain out of a toga.
The final labor of Cocaretzi had to do with catering a picky Greek king’s picnic. He was tired of the usual fare, so he challenged Cocaretzi to come up with something new.
Yes, this is where the ox intestines come in.
Cocaretzi was executed for the vile dish, but at least it forever bears his name.

Open wide

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I swear I didn’t mean to kill the Tooth Fairy.
I guess he forgot me or something, so twenty years later he’s playing catch-up. When he came barging into my house last night, I woke up and shot him with the gun I keep under my pillow..
Now he’s buried the back yard, tutu and all.
Of course, I kept his bag of coins. All I need to do is pull a tooth out from under a pillow and the appropriate change just appears in there. All I need are tons of teeth.
Open wide. This won’t hurt a bit.

Don’t Pay The Catapultman

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“NEXT!” shouted a voice.
Arthur spat out the coin and handed it to the robed specter on the shore.
“Where’s your boat?” he asked.
“Repairs,” growled the ferryless ferryman. “Leaky hull.”
“So how do I get cross?” asked Arthur.
“Hop on,” said the ferryman, pointing to a catapult.
Arthur smirked. “Is it safe?”
“You’re already dead,” said the ferryman, shrugging. “What do you care?”
Arthur climbed on the catapult, and the ferryman grinned.
“Ready?”
“N-”
The ferryman pulled the lever, and Arthur was flung screaming into the gloomy mist.
“Replace me with a toll bridge, will they?” he grumbled. “NEXT!”

Prometheus Frustrated

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Prometheus looked down Olympus and smirked.
“Those people look really cold,” he grumbled. “I guess I’d better help them.”
Apollo’s chariot set the torch ablaze. Prometheus then cradled it as he stumbled down to the valley.
“Behold!” he shouted to a passing human.
“What’s that?” asked the human. “Is it magic?”
“It’s fire,” said Prometheus, passing him the torch. “See?”
“Ah,” said the human.
He shrugged, stuffed the torch in his mouth, and screamed in agony.
“At least he didn’t shove it up his ass like the last one,” Prometheus sighed as he climbed back up Olympus for more fire.

Rush job

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Malakas the Sculptor hated rush jobs.
He preferred to plan out his work, drawing up the plans and measuring out the perfect proportions for everything. Sharpening chisels and testing the material was his favorite part of the process, not the actual work.
Fat chance. The king was due back in Athens tomorrow, and the priests needed the temple frieze completed tonight.
So, Malakas worked. And he drank. Heavily.
The intricate battle scene turned into a screed mocking King Demetrius. By the time he fit the last word in, the priests saw what he was doing, screamed, and had him executed.

One burden to bear

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Atlas looked over his shoulder and saw… nothing.
“Where did the sky go?” said Atlas.
“The Universe is over,” said Zeus, appearing in a thunderblast. “The Heavens and all underneath are finished.”
Atlas looked around. He tried to jump for joy, but he could barely move.
“Cramps,” he groaned. “So, what do I do now?”
“Not sure,” said Zeus. “But just remember that you can only carry forward six weeks of vacation time annually.”
Atlas growled.
“And because you were exempt and salaried, just forget about overtime.”
And that, my friends, is how the Second War Of The Titans began.

A New Look At the Old Gods

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Contrary to popular belief, the Greek God Of Thunder Zeus and the Roman King Of the Gods Jupiter were not the same being.
Sure, they look alike, but the truth is they’re not exactly alike.
You can easily tell them apart by the thunderbolts. Zeus prefers javelin-like lightning strokes with small jaggies in them while Jupiter prefers massive strokes with only three or four jaggies.
I learned this from Vulcan, who has the manufacturing contract for both.
And, yes, Vulcan actually is Hephasteus. But his real name is “Leslie.”
Try being a big macho blacksmith with a name like that.

Don’t Put Another Drachma In The Jukebox

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What’s with the singing box?
Well, remember the old story about Orpheus going to Hell to free his girlfriend?
He looks back – WHAM! Eurydice is back in Hell. A gang of women tear Orpheus apart, and his head falls into the stream, still singing.
Some chick puts the head in a box, sells it to a joint on the island, and it becomes the first jukebox.
Here it is. Just fifty bucks.
Problem is, it sings in Greek. It sounds so painful and sad, but beautiful. Too bad I don’t know Greek.
Do you?
Oh well. Still sounds beautiful.