How could you-a mere mortal-possibly understand? Imagine being stripped of your clothes, then blasted with a fire hose in front of a laughing crowd. And I sobbed in despair.Įven for a god of poetry such as myself, it is difficult to describe how I felt. My mind stewed in confusion, but one memory floated to the surface-the voice of my father, Zeus: YOUR FAULT. My ribs felt broken, though that shouldn’t have been possible. My nostrils burned with the stench of rancid bologna and used diapers. I lay groaning and aching in the open Dumpster. Is anything sadder than the sound of a god hitting a pile of garbage bags? I plunged into a narrow canyon between two buildings and BAM! I tried to change into a cloud or teleport across the world or do a hundred other things that should have been easy for me, but I just kept falling. I visited my wrath upon Britney Spears at the 2007 MTV Video Music Awards.īut in all my immortal life, I never before crash-landed in a Dumpster. I blessed Babe Ruth with three home runs in game four of the 1926 World Series. I inflicted a plague on the Greeks who besieged Troy. In my four thousand six hundred and twelve years, I have done many things. Enable “Document outline” ( View > Show document outline ) for easier navigation of chapters.
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