Monday, October 04, 2004


Zeus in One of His "Moods"

Hera was reading the paper when Zeus came in, grumbling. Some story on the front page about an eruption uncovering an old temple complex in North America had caught her eye. “Zeus,” she began, “do you remember that summer place we had, ohhhh, when was it? On that nice mountain?” But Zeus was in one of his moods.

“Hera, what are you going to do with that thing? It’s beginning to smell. It looks like an old glazed doughnut with mold on it.”

“Oh, that thing? I forgot all about it since I got my new one.” She tossed Rove casually on the floor, among the chicken bones and empty wine bottles.

“I thought we were going to keep this place a little cleaner, Hera,” Zeus chided. He picked up the stiff doll-like figure. “Ugh. What a way to go.” And he tossed it over the balcony, where it floated


like a piece of Balsa

to the earth, where it landed without a sound in the lap of Mrs. Emmalyne Tutwillow, a retired librarian, who was resting on a park bench in downtown Washington, D.C. on a cool autumn day.

“My stars!” she exclaimed. “Whatever could this be?” She looked at it carefully through her bifocals. “Seems to be a little man, covered with mucilage. I’d better turn this into the authorities—it might be some sort of voodoo ritual! And, you know,” speaking to the sky, “it was right here on this bench last week where the chicken bones rained down on me. I wonder what’s up there?”

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