Friday, September 24, 2004
The Thingy Goes to Olympus
What, Hermes, what do I want with this shriveled little piece of leather? What’d you bring it to me for?
Zeus, look, it’s the Holy Prepuce.
The Holy what-puss?
It’s the foreskin offa that brat of Yahweh’s. It’s what’s left over after Jesus got circumcised. It’s 2,000 years old. From way back at year zero.
Ugh! Yuck. Get it away from me. A foreskin? That’s the nastiest thing I ever heard of. Who goes around cutting those off?
It’s a Yahweh thing. Or, well, it was. Anyway, everybody in the White House is after this thing. That’s why I nabbed it. They call it “the key.”
The key to what?
Seems you need it to make the Yahweh suit work.
Oh-ho. Really? So, as long as we got this piece of dickskin, Satan’s little plan won’t work?
That’s a valuable little flap of skin, Hermes my man. How’d you get it?
Ran across a cat who claimed to know something about it. I had to skin that cat, but finally he told me about it. Didn’t know where it was, though, so I had to read the Mullah Billdoug blog to find that out. Got there just in time. Snatched it off some guy who was digging it out of a wall.
Thought you’d like that. But there’s more.
I been sniffing around, and nobody knows you’re planning a comeback. Nobody knows about the second year zero.
Of course not. Us Olympians never write things down. That’s what screwed Yahweh and Allah. No paper trail—that’s the key to deitic success. The Titans taught me that.
It all gets posted to Mullah Billdoug, you realize.
Yeah, but that doesn't count. Who reads that? Besides, it's not official. It's all made up.
Yeah, but what I mean is, nobody's talking. There aren’t even any rumors that you’re gonna make a comeback and heist the calendar. Nobody’s talking. Yahweh claims it’s 5765; Jesus claims it’s 2004; Allah says it’s 1425. They seem to think it's gonna stay that way. All the gossip in the coffee shops and bars is about how Yahweh and Satan are gonna duke it out, and how Satan has this secret plan. Nothing about you. Nothing about a new year zero.
Yeah, but strange. It’s almost like we don’t exist to most people. Like we are shadows.
Well, it’s not like it used to be. I mean, I haven’t gone to earth and seduced a human in years. That’s retirement for you. But soon that will all change. When the Olympians are in control, it’ll all come back.
Have some faith, Hermes. And meanwhile, get me some more nectar, willya? The vanilla kind, with nuts. Oh, and tell Eros I need to see him, huh? I got a little job for him.