The second in a sporadic series.


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Stevas
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Or:

Page Down keys at the ready.

Or even:

There's no 'Rewriting Classical Mythology' category, dammit.

Well, would you look at that? It's my thousandth post. Time for a thread.

But not just any thread.

Some of you may recall my re-telling of the classic Pandora's "box" (*snigger*) in my thousandth thread on that there EG, from the dim and distant past... some of you may not. No matter. What matters, dear reader (you'll note that I didn't presume to go plural, there), is that I put that link there to give you some idea of what to expect anyway. And just in case you're one who does not remember, or one who wasn't around to remember in the first place - and either of you are too lazy to go click the fucking link I kindly provided - then here's a shortened version of what to expect:

lots.

Again.

Tell you what, I'll crack on, then, when (if) you eventually stop reading, shaking your head and muttering "fuck me, dude - I ain't got time for this shit"... then I'll say I told you so.

But what am I going to talk about? Well, see, I rather think I'll carry on from where I left off. Kind of. But where did I leave off? Round about the end of one of my favourite stories - that's where.
Here's the thing about endings, though: they're beginnings, seen through different eyes.

And what did I mean by "Kind of"? Well, that thread there is a re-telling of one of my favourite stories, and this one here is too. They're not really linked (as such), but... I still feel I should recap to bring you up to speed. Hmmmm. Should I recap? Or cut and paste everything from there?

I'll recap I think.

It'll probably be less work.

Heh.

I said "work".

/remembers that his own recaps often end up running longer than whatever it is they're recapping

Shit.

Okay, I'll try REALLY hard not to let this recap take more words than the 10 thousand I (probably) wrote on that there EG thread.

Somewhat ironic, I think, that I started that thread with a joke about how I'd wasted my life just getting to the 1000th post.

/Breathe in...

In the beginning...
was Chaos. Note the capital letter. From him sprung forth Love, who proceeded to prance around a bit, waving her arms - like that bit on the credits of Tales Of The Unexpected. Eventually the dance did it's job and Chaos fell for her (hey, it's a sexy dance - he was only... whatever he was... um... after all), only, instead of dropping sprogs after this rather strange union, Love dropped a reality. This one, to be precise. Yes, you read right. An entire reality. Like, as in: EVERYTHING. Yeah, the average woman, complaining about childbirth, would to do well to consider how passing an entire fucking reality would feel. My guess is Love's screams to "knock me the fuck out" are what scientists refer to as "background radiation" (which they pass off as tied to some ridiculous notion about a big bang. A big bang? Leave it the fuck out. No, far more likely - I'd say - that the universe we currently inhabit was spat out of some galactic vagina, and any "noise" we are currently able to record from the dawn of time itself was probably from the anguished yells of the poor conceptual goddess involved. I'd also estimate that about 10 percent of that noise is the remnants of the shouts of "MY FUCKING HAND, WOMAN" from old Chaos himself, too. More on this in my forthcoming book: "THE UNIVERSE ACCORDING TO STEVAS: FUCK YOU EINSTEIN".) It's worth noting, at this point, that while she was capable of creating the reality (trees, mountains, rivers) she didn't complete the job by populating this reality with anything interesting (men, women, animals capable of eating both of these - or, indeed, the less hilarious alternative of eating each other) - but what she DID do, was populate it with huge Gods, who proceeded to fuck around with all the tact of your average soap opera slut - "fuck" being the extremely operative word, in this instance.
Basically, then, it went something like this...
Chaos, essentially, gave birth to Love. Then fucked her. Love gave birth to reality, including the Gods: Uranus (Earth) and Gaea (Sky). A brother and sister, then... who also fucked each other. Quite a lot, as it happens, as they produced a huge litter of Gods, Demigods and Titans who kept the family tradition going by fucking each other senseless too. Considering Uranus locked them all in a big cave, it was all they could do to pass the time anyways, I guess. It's not like they'd invented telly yet, is it? Or... hang on... did he lock them in there BECAUSE they were fucking? In short, did Uranus lock his family away to prevent the embarrassment of inviting the other gods round and having them open the fridge to find two Titan's getting it on in the butter ("Jesus Christ, I'm so sorry about that, Jesus. You what? No, no... I was... I was just making sure you knew I was talking to... you. It wasn't in vain, really. Honest. Um... hey! Did I show you what I did with the Lounge? Check this out... oh, for fu - JESUS CHRIST, WOULD YOU TWO GET DOWN FROM THAT CHANDELIER, Honestly, Jesus, I can't leave them alone with each other for a second... you what? Oh, get over yourself - it's all anyone will use your fucking name for anyway."), or did they just end up warped enough to want to shag their own mother because they were stuck in a cave with no internet pron? Who knows. It's the old chicken and the egg thing, isn't it? Erm, except it's before chickens even existed. So it's not. It's the old did-Uranus-lock-his-offspring-up-BECAUSE-they-were-fuck-crazy and the did-Uranus'-offspring-BECOME-shag-happy-due-to-being-locked-in-a-cave thing.

Um.

Anyway, one of his sons decided to do something about it. Cronos (Or Kronos - the God of Time) usurped Uranus, and - though there appears to be some confusion as to the exact extent of the ownage (i.e. was it enough to kill or merely maim) - one thing is certain: there were paper bags in mythical Greece large enough to hold the arse of a God, and strong enough to last until they'd been handed back containing said arse. Either way, the young God of Time had put an end to his father's evil ways. Yay!
Um... no, actually. He didn't. I'll take that yay back, thankyou. !yaY
He actually continued with his evil ways. He kept the family locked up. He even took a sister as his wife (sort of) - Rhea. Like father, very like son. (Except this dude had a much cooler name, that wouldn't for all eternity elicit sniggers at the back of the classroom whenever it was uttered.) HOWEVER, under the advisement of his mother Gaea (who could fortell the future, handily, and who was the driving force behind his rise to power already), he came up with the brain-meltingy brilliant idea of eating any babies produced by his sister (Rhea) the moment they sneaked out (in order to prevent his mother's prophecy of "one of his own sons doing the same as what he did to his dad" coming true). BUT, Rhea (his sister and wife, remember - do please keep the fuck up) came up with the even more brain-meltingly brilliant notion of quickly swapping a new-born Zeus for a big stone, which Cronos promptly swallowed (literally and figuratively).

(A general aside here, but it is interesting the role men and women play in such mythology. The women seem to fall into one of four categories:
a) The whore. Basically, eye-candy. She will fuck anything, and fuck WITH anything.
b) The witch. Possesses supernatural powers (not natural for the Gods, that is), and normally uses these in order to best facilitate the bringing forward of her next shag. In other words, she fucks with things UNTIL she gets to fuck.
c) The virgin. Um... eye candy, again, I'm afraid. The difference being, she doesn't get them out. Not necessarily a virgin literally, of course; she will be incredibly attractive, and will use this to manipulate men, or even male Gods. In other words, she fucks with things on the promise of a fuck.
d) The money. More literally than in the "Show me the money!" sense - with men bartering over them like they're the weekly groceries. In other words: they're fucked.

Even more interesting, the women often satisfy more than one (and, bafflingly, all four) of the criteria above.

Men, however, only ever fall into one category (very generally):
Stupid.

Another way of looking at it is like this: the only time any male characters manage to succesfully manipulate a female character (as opposed to the vice versa, which happens with alarming regularity), is when *POSSIBLE SPOILER ALERT* Zeus and Epimetheus persuade Pandora to unleash the evils contained in her box (*sniggers again*). And - boy - didn't that one turn out well for the men, eh?)

With me so far? Okay.

Hard though it may be to believe, I'm actually doing very well so far. No, really. This IS shorter.

Now naturally, Gaea somehow finds the time to bring up young Zeus (probably by the side of a river, with some unaturally shaped trees to practice his jedi skills on - I mean sickle wielding, sickle wielding skills), and it's not long before - SURPRISE! - the young upstart ups and starts on his dad.
So now Zeus is in charge, and... it turns out he's a decent enough sort, actually. He lets his family out, and they all repay him by squabbling. Sorry, I realise that this word perhaps doesn't do the TEN YEAR WAR that follows their release justice, but I'm not going to go into the war here (as my next story is okay for war, thanks); suffice to say this war was played out very much like a game of football, and possibly involved that bespectacled fucktwunt off the Halifax adverts. I dunno, really - my memory of it is a little hazy, if I'm honest. I do recall David Hasselhoff trying an overhead scissor-kick in leather trousers, which didn't end well.
Anyway, the Gods won (on penalties), and then... well, everything calmed down a bit, and everyone got a bit bored again. Ho-hum. Zeus, in his wisdom, realised that something was required to distract his family from starting another war right off the back of this one, and, knowing full well the pitch needed at least a month to recover, he commissions his good friend, the Titan Epimetheus, for help in constructing a "game" to alleviate the boredom within the ranks. After some failed attempts, Epimetheus creates talking animals, but Zeus isn't happy with this - which, frankly, I'm a bit pissed at, as I'd love a talking cat - and the speaking part is removed at his behest (though he did love the whole big teeth and claws bit). Tiring with his friends attempts (which all seem to merely involve more swearing), Zeus goes to Epimetheus' brother - Prometheus - for an idea... and it's genius (though it is perhaps aided by... *ahem* "alternative thinking aids").

Man.

But there is an imbalance. While man getting ripped apart is initially hilarious (for the first few thousand years), Prometheus realises that he simply can't keep up the production. He's not getting paid for this shit, remember - and it's seriously eating into his "chill time", too - so he decides to help out his creation by stealing fire and giving it to man, who promptly whinges that it's not, in fact, the AK47 he was expecting.

(Honestly - really - this is a recap. You got no idea how much of a recap this is. Seriously. Well, not without taking the afternoon out to go read the original, that is.)

Zeus discovers this, and decides - with Epimetheus' help - to introduce his revenge on both man and Prometheus (though there was also the matter of chaining Prometheus to a big rock for all eternity, too):

Woman.

In the form of the beautiful Pandora. Of course, even in this revenge he got something wrong, because it meant Prometheus no longer had to produce man: they could produce themselves. Perhaps just as well, as running a production facility from a big rock would possibly prove impossible for even a Titan (a perpetually stoned one, at that - ha! Get it! He's a stoner, and his punishment was - oh, forget it).

Zeus gives her a box, and tells her all the ills and evils of the world are contained within.

It is not until he forbids her from opening it that she is consumed with the desire to do so.


And lo, the patterns for the men and women of Greek Mythology are created.


Which brings me to my next story. Yes. You read it right. This IS the beginning.

I did warn you.

That's a recap, and - if nothing else - it will tell you one of two things. That I enjoy writing about Greek Mythology, for one.

And that the posts in this thread may be more than you can handle in your lunch break, for another.



THE ILIAD (OR ILYAD) ACCORDING TO STEVAS (AND MAYBE SOME OTHERS) - PART... THE ONE

"Sing, O goddess, the anger of Achilles son of Peleus, that brought countless ills upon the Achaeans. Many a brave soul did it send hurrying down to Hades, and many a hero did it yield a prey to dogs and vultures, for so were the counsels of Jove fulfilled from the day on which the son of Atreus, king of men, and great Achilles, first fell out with one another."

What's all this bollocks then, eh? Oh, that's right: it's a fucking poem. All lah-dee-dah-ing and speaking in prose and all very, very gay, like.

You'd maybe say.

In which case: well, fuck you. Fuck you with a pointy stick until it comes out the top of your very stupid head. If you said that, I mean.

Because it's not.

Okay, it is. A poem, I mean. Of sorts.

But it's not gay. Okay? It's not.

Apart from the bit where Achilles cries. That's a bit gay.

But the rest isn't. No.

For one thing - just in case you'd not worked it out FROM THE FIRST FUCKING LINE (you idiot) - Achilles rage is not so much the Underlying Theme as an Over-The-Top Hans Zimmer Full Orchestral Overture. Some would say this is very much a story of revenge, but what is he avenging? Well some of the said some would say he's avenging the death of a friend. Yet others of the some would reply that this was merely the straw that broke an already rather annoyed camel's back - a back that began straining after Agamemnon went and pinched one of his women (note the "one") to add to his own collection.

All of these "some" seemingly forget that his anger over the stolen wench led not to him kicking even more arse, but, in fact, resulted in him not kicking any at all, and basically going into a right big heroic huff (note, if you will, "the day on which the son of Atreus, king of men, and great Achilles, first fell out with one another." First "fell out"? The fuck? What, did they turn up to some do in the same fucking dress, or something? Actually, I'm starting to change even my own mind on the whole gay thing.)

The camel would no doubt have already formed it's own opinion - to which I am not privvy, sadly. Homer did not include the thoughts of the camel in question in his original epic; if pushed, however, I'd guess he's pretty pissed off too - but don't quote me on that one. Camels by and large are pretty pissed off creatures anyways - so it's kinda hard to tell - but if you ever find a camel laying collapsed at the bottom of a big pile of straws, and the very topmost straw is whining about some dude named Patroclus, and a few straws down there's one shouting about how some dude named Achilles has had ENOUGH with this Agamemnon fucker pinching his FUCKING WOMEN, then do me a favour and ask how he's feeling. Don't bother trying to translate, just come back to me and show me how much spittle you got on your face.

Me? I'd prefer to consider that Achilles, ever the showman, was merely waiting for the optimum moment for his joining the battle - in much the same way an evil WWF superstar, drafted in to commentate on the current "fight" would wait until his target had just about won and had his back turned in celebration, before leaping from the commentary booth brandishing a suspiciously handy "steel" chair. Indeed, this analogy works even better than I'd thought, as old Achilles leaves it very late before crashing that steel chair over the heads of as many WWF (or WWE... whatever) Superstars as he can; though on further thought a closer analogy would be that he didn't even do it in the ring (oo-er missus, etc..), but waited until his enemy had given his afterfight interview, showered, waited in the car park for the contractual length of time required for any possible repercussions, given up and gone home, had his tea, gone to sleep, woke up on his day off, went into town to pick up some stuff, then had Achilles drop fifteen thousand successive thermonuclear punches right on the top of his unsuspecting head as he asked for his morning paper.

Pffff. Like Achilles cared about some arbitrary bint he'd collected along the way, or some friend who was just plain rubbish enough to go get himself killed. Pah, I say. Nuts to that. He was always going to join the battle - but as with all great heroes, he'd realised that timing was everything...



Achilles - son of the mortal Peleus and the goddess Thetis - strokes his jaw. In an age of heroes, there was not a jawline squarer and truer. He glances down to see he's drawn blood, so sharp is his profile. This possibly would have alarmed those of mortal blood.

He smiles.


"So let me get this straight, Aggsy." Agamemnon - King Of Men, Number One Son Of Atreus, and the opponent in this particular conversation - clearly riles. "The reason," Achilles continues, "we're currently under attack from the God Appollo - and have been for almost ten days, now... is because you won't give some priest his daughter back? Is that right? Have I got the basic gist of it?"

The assembled crowd mutters it's disaproval, and Calchas - who rather bizzarely is a man who can tell the future - is audibly overheard saying "careful, now." There are possibly also calls for "down with this sort of thing," though - regrettably - they do not go into what sort of thing this actually is, or - indeed - if down would even be a direction that would necessarily improve matters. This dissent is not without foundation; when you're camped outside a city you've thus far been unable to capture after nine and a half years*, the last thing you need is the hatred of a God poured on you in the form of a plague. What you probably need even less, I'm guessing, is to further discover that the plague in question is down to your randy king being somewhat reluctant in handing over one woman among the many he already has access to - a woman he only recently received as a gift anyways. It was kinda like refusing to hand over just one sweet out of your big bag of sweets in order to avoid getting beat up by the class bully, who happened to be about four million times your size. Oh, and it was his sweet originally - that too. Yeah. You're not just refusing to give the God his sweet back - you fucking stole it from him in the first place.



[* What is interesting (no, really, stick around) about this is that Homer somehow managed to write a story about the Greeks inability to kick arse. Really. Think about it. They bought this. Not only that, but he did this without really going into much detail about it. Consider: for nine years (maybe ten, I forget; it was a long time ago and that century was - generally speaking - a drunken haze for me), we are supposed to believe that the Greeks - who were, let's face it, pretty bloody good at this whole womanising and fighting malarkey - not only had serious trouble controlling their bloody women; they were also incapable of kicking down the fucking door of the other man and demanding she get back and put the bloody tea on. This theme was later to be repeated when a distant descendant of Homer wrote and published the humorous "Nazi's Are Gay And All Suck Jewish Cock", and somehow managed to convince the German public to buy enough copies that it remained the number one bestseller in Europe for almost the entirety of 1942 **. Rumours that Salman Rushdie is a direct descendant of either of these two people are completely without foundation in truth ***.

** Might be a lie.

*** Might not be.]



"I've warned you before about addressing me as such, Achilles." replies Agamemnon through gritted teeth.

"Come, Calchas," says Achilles, ignoring the threat and waving an arm. "Speak freely."

Calchas steps forward, a slight man, of noble carriage. He clears his throat. "Verily -"

"The short version, please," interrupts a sighing Achilles, inspecting his nails. While this may appear to be a rather vain idiosyncracy to those who did not know him, those who did would realise he was inspecting them in regret that an opportunity to replenish the fine layer of caked blood would not, it seems, be immediately forthcoming. Well, not without a good excuse.

"Ah, right," says Calchas, clearly disappointed. "Well, erm... yeah. This IS the reason why, actually. Appollo is a bit miffed. The priest in question is one of his, after all. And... well, this isn't like we just forgot to return a lawnmower - you know?"

"Okay, okay, so maybe this IS down to me keeping the woman, but she was given to ME as a prize, dammit," shouts the king above the laughter. "And lest we forget, I am the one who is without my wife, here."

"Helen," he states - after a momentary silence sweeps the court - in order to make clear which woman he is referring to this time.

"Okay, well... " - Achilles motions for quiet, and the crowd, of course, obliges - "give her back then. You knew this mess was all because of this and still you cling to her? What is she... number 456, now? Joveing fucking Christ. Give her back already, it's not like you'll miss one - is it? We'll sort you out four times over when this is all over, not that you're short of women in the first place, of course - /rolls eyes/".

"I shall not, I love her even more than my own wife," replies Agamemnon finally.

"Is that the one we're here to get back? Or a different one?"

"Um... okay, then I'd perhaps consider it if we did a swap, kinda thing," he adds, quickly, after what could be - maybe - referred to as 'some consideration'. "But only right now. I'm not handing her over on the promise I get something back after we kick down the doors of Ilium."

At this Achilles does a double take. Even in this day and age, with men's talk of love being so fickle and wives and concubines being so numerous, Agamemnon still manages to take the piss; "Of course," he replies, biting his tongue, "we would not want our King would go without for another ten years," he jokes, wide-eyed and in mock grief, much to the collective amusement. "Calchas, nip down to the corner shop and get us a swap, would you? Something pretty and non-too fussy."

"Don't try to outwit me, Achilles, I warn you," scowls Agamemnon, who coninues as his threat is waved away: "Either I receive something in return, or I take something in return, Achilles. As an aside, maybe I should order you take a ship out to sea and make sacrifice, in order to appease the God in question?"

The effect of what had just been said was much the same as in an old west saloon, after someone known for being quicker of gun than mouth has just been accused of cheating.

"Careful, now," says Calchas.

"Indeed," agrees Achilles through the portentous silence. "Careful, indeed. I have been dragged to a battle I have no reason for, and fought more than a fair share compared to thee, and yet still after watching you take more than your fair share of the gains, I am threatened with you then taking mine, and my having to clean up your mess? No. I am not here for these gains. I and my ships shall retire, and leave you to your stocktake."

"Fine," replies Agamemnon. "You do that."

"Right, I will," says Achilles gruffly.

"Good."

"We're agreed then."

"We are."

"Fine."

"Ha, I already did that one."

"Gods... Dammit," says Achilles, and begins to draw his sword in anger, but before he can... STOP!

Athena Time.

Uh-oh! Uh-oh,Uh-oh,Uh-oh... Uh-oh!
Here comes Minerva!

(ATHENA!)

Uh-oh! Uh-oh,Uh-oh,Uh-oh... Uh-oh!
Here comes Minerva!

(ATHENA!)


"What evil magic is this," states our hero, sword half-drawn, mind half-cocked.

"Hey, woah, chill it, Achilles," says a voice from his rear. (Not, you know, his rear - behind him, sorta thing.) Achilles turns, disorientated, to see the Goddess Athena (of Wisdom, Arts and Crafts, and... um... War - just... don't fucking criticise her embroidery, okay?) hovering in front of him in quite the most splendid example of a shiny shell suit ever.

"The hell?" he says, and looks around to see if anyone else is seeing the same - but realises that time has, for all intents and purposes... stopped.

"The hell?" he repeats. Situations like this, he has found, really stretch his vocabulary.

"Hang on a sec, HEY! HEY - CHRONOS! DUDE! IT ONLY FUCKING WORKS, MAN. TRY THE DANCING!" says the goddess skyward. "Watch this, if this works it'll be fucking AWESOME."

Achilles watches as the surrounding throng, previously held in time, slowly starts up again... then returns to the same point. They continue to do this, and oscillate in time as if being wound forward then back by some - to provide an entirely random example for you - giant dial with the word "tyme" written across it.

"Man, that is BRILLIANT!" she exclaims, before falling into fits of laughter. "Look at that one!" She says pointing to some poor unfortunate in the corner who was caught in this loop while throwing up. "Hahahaha! Gross! Anyways, where was I? Oh, right - stay your sword, noble Achilles, and... ahhh, fuck the official shit. Look: just bite your lip, dude, and you'll be rewarded - okay?" And with this she taps her nose conspiratorially, vanishes... and time is returned to normal.

"Ahhhh, fuck this shit," says Achilles upon seeing normality return, and thrusts back his sword. "Like I say, fuck you, and fuck your stupid war. I'm well out of it."

Till then, a rather smooth-tongued chap by the name of Nestor had remained silent. Having led his people for three generations, his merely standing to speak was enough that everyone present took note; a noble and upstanding gentleman - of intelligence and good common sense - he interjects, words "falling from his lips as if from sweet honey", and addresses the arguing couple:

"Lads, leave it - it's not worth it."

To which a voice from the crowd replies: "Your momma."

...

People getting thrown through windows and landing on handily placed piles of boxes outside, bottles being smashed over heads, extravagant punches having little effect, occasional shouts of YEEHAW - all of these probably didn't happen, as the wild west was some way off yet. However, there was a big fight, under cover of which Achilles and Agamemnon departed, while eyeing each other angrily, and making those motions you used to make at school to signify that the target of your hand signals would be well and truly chinned come half past three.


-----------------


"Shit shit shit shit SHIT," said Zeus. "Get it back on, will you?"
"Sorry I must have... erm," stumbled Epimetheus, randomly prodding several large buttons sitting alongside the edge of a huge stone table, upon which lay an extremely realistic representation of early Earth. Actually, scratch that. It wasn't extremely realistic, it was real in the extreme - it being, as it was, the Earth itself, sitting on a table (Gods displayed at actual size, robes not included). The Table Visualiser - as it was named - then flicked through numerous different viewpoints as Epimetheus pressed the buttons, but no combination of presses seemingly got it back the way Zeus wanted. "Um... wait... I think I... have it sussed... now..."
"It was just getting good, there, too." Zeus said, excitedly. Epimetheus had noticed a rather strange change coming over his good friend, but was trying to pick the right time to point it out. Was now a good time to highlight how Zeus - Ruler Of Gods - had become addicted to observing the comings and goings of these insect-like humans his brother had created? Not only the humans, neither. Zeus had kept everyone awake three nights ago laughing hysterically at a group of monkey's taunting a giraffe. Was it three nights, he thought? Or two? You lose track of time so easily when you're really into something like this. You don't eat, you don't sleep, you forget to dress... three. It was three nights. Three nights since either of them had slept, or, indeed, dressed. The recent invention of the cheesy puff had sorted them out okay for eating, though. Thank fuck for the cheesy puff, thought Epimetheus.
Was this the right time to tell him, then? Is ANY time a good time for a Titan to tell a God that he's perhaps acting a little weird?
No. It wasn't. Now was a good time to fix the TV so they could get back to watching the fight, dammit.
Still, he thought, that reminds him. Giraffes need more teeth.
"Hang on, is that...?"
The two peered at the Visualiser, trying to make out the figure, hunched over, with his head in his hands, by the shoreline. "I... don't know," replied Epimetheus, fiddling with something that resulted in a zoomed in view. They watched for a few moments, before looking at each other with raised eyebrows.
"But..." began Zeus.
"Nah." said Epimetheus.
"Yeah." agreed the God. "Most unheroic. Have you checked the manual?"
"You what?"
"The manual? Maybe you're pressing the wrong buttons," said Zeus helpfully. He reached over to prod a button he felt sure Epimetheus hadn't pressed yet, and the view changed from the rather familiar - if unfamiliarly slumped - figure..
"What are you on about, manual?" replied the Titan, waving away his hand. "I INVENTED this. Why would I need to consult some bloody manual?" He continued prodding. "And besides, I aint wrote a manual for it yet."
"Oh, fuck this," said Zeus suddenly. "I'll just go down there and watch it up close. Where's my robe?"
Epimetheus squatted down and began moving wires around under the table in an attempt to get a better look at the innards as his friend hunted down the missing garment. A sudden slap on the table from above reminds us why he is regarded as the god of DIY headlumps.
"Ouch, you FUCKER," shouted Epimetheus. "What the fuck?"
"Sorry, "said Zeus. "Just thought that... giving it a thump might work."
"And did it?"
"No."
"Well I never." Maybe you should try striking it with lightning? the Titan added, to himself.
Zeus returned to his robe-hunt, and Epimetheus got back to moving wires around in the hope that a certain arrangement of them would remind him just what the fuck any of them actually did. He reached up and started to press the button again, and another God-like slam on the table woke him from the daydream one always finds oneself in when one doesn't actually know what one is doing.
A somewhat subdued shout of "STOP" followed the slam, apologetically added as an afterthought.
"Stop what?" grimaced Epimetheus, climbing up from the floor. "You don't even know what I was doing down there." Both Titan and God pretended not to notice the "mind, neither did I" that really shouldn't have been so obviously missing from that last sentence. "AND DON'T BANG THE FUCKING TV LIKE THAT."
"No, I mean stop changing the view. Look! It's those monkeys again! Heh, the one with the tuft is the leader, look. He pisses on the others when they don't do what they're told."
"Oh, for fu-"


-----------------


Agamemnon did indeed make good his threat, and, after returning his own prize to the priest of Apollo, he sent for Briseis - some bird Achilles had taken for a prize from some place they burnt to the ground or other - as a replacement (because the 24 hour wench replacement shoppe had yet to be invented).

And thus were the first seeds of rage sowed. Achilles, in his anger... went for a bit cry by the sea. Yeah, erm, way to go on the heroism there, dude. So to get things straight here (even though things are getting even gayer), rather than just raging all the hell over Agamemnon and slicing him into bits fine enough to fall through the wooden floor, Achilles puts his sword away on the promise that he'd get some just rewards, and goes for a big womanly bubble by the sea.

Honestly, though, it's all just an act. You'll see.

Zeus and Epimetheus eventually bored of the monkeys (for there was no nearby giraffe to torment), turned off the TV, and left the throne room - thereby ignoring the pleas of poor Achilles.

But someone else had been watching and listening from the shadows, someone altogether more cunning and devious...

Yeah, it was a Goddess, as it happens. Way to spoil my intriguing ending, you twat.


-----------------


/DEEP VOICE/ "Next time, in the ILYAD ACCORDING TO STEVAS..."

Cut to:
Achilles [Speaking aloud to his mother, Thetis, and... um... crying]: "I mean, it's not like I didn't warn them, is it? *sniffle*"


Cut to:
The Goddess Iris - appearing before Hector as a channelled voice through Polites, son of Priam - warns of the approaching Greek army.
Hector: "Myrmidons?"
Polites (IRIS): "No."
Hector: "Fucking result."
Polites (IRIS): "Don't be so sure of that..."


Cut to:
Achilles [still crying]: "*snuffle* would it have killed him to just go without *bubble* one of his several hundred women for just a few-"
Thetis: "Um, hello kettle? You're black."
Achilles: "You what?"
Thetis: "Oh, nothing... nothing."


Cut to:
THE BATTLEFIELD
The greeks poured over the hills like ants, and for the first time did the Trojans realise they'd not brought enough boiling water.
"Let me settle this," says impossibly handsome Paris, "this is my fight, after all. Let me settle it, in mortal combat to the death, one-on-one, with any Greek who dare oppose me." His attempts to strike a heroic pose missed by quite some distance, but still hit "fucking gorgeous" - so not to worry, then. "There will be no need for further bloodshed this day."
"Hey, knock yourself out," says Hector, immediately regretting his choice of words.
Stepping forward through the oppposing gathered arms is Menelaus, brother of Agamemnon and the Number Two Son of Atreus. He stops whirling his unnaturally huge axes (note the plural) - needing, themselves, unnaturally huge arms to whirl them in the first place - just long enough to stare a gaze of purest hatred in the direction of the male model before him... and begins frothing at the mouth. Warbled strangled cries of intense distilled anger escape in alarm from his mouth - wide-eyed and waving their arms - and become louder still in their haste to find human ears in which to hide. Banshee-like now, veins popping and sweat glistening, Menelaus howls skywards - shaking the very foundations of Olympus itself - before returning his eyes to rest on the target of his rage; grinning a grimace of sharpened teeth, and licking his lips, a growling chuckle emerges, and somehow - somehow - deepens as he speaks:

"The boy... is mine."

Several seconds pass with the utterance of the last word. The sky rumbles as if the gods themselves are knocking on the floor of the apartment above; just in case we're in any doubt, Zeus actually does then tell us to "keep it down".

Even Hector - greatest of all the Trojan warriors - raises an eyebrow at all this, before eventually turning wearily for some sort of reaction from his brother, who... doesn't seem so confident now.

"Um... shit?"


Cut to:
Achilles [*sigh*, still in tears]: "*WAIL* I'M NOT GAY, DAMMIT *SOB*."


Cut to:
Olympus, the throne room.
Zeus: "This new so-fa is brilliant. Much better than that scabby old throne."
Epimetheus: "I call it that because you only get 'so far' away from it before you want to come back."
Zeus: "Yeah, very comfortable. Hey, HERA, come here quick - this goat is trying to hump a rock... hey, how do you turn the volume up on this 'remote control' thing?"
Epimetheus: "Heh. Brilliant. Fucking stupid goats. I think my legs have died."
#1 at 14:43:59 - 01/08/2007
HairyArse
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I haven't read this yet but why the fuck is it not on the front page?

GRR!
#2 at 14:53:13 - 01/08/2007
ilmaestro
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Subliminal.
#3 at 14:56:20 - 01/08/2007
mal
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Sir,

I recall you previous thread, and I can categorically state that 'fuck me dude, I didn't have time for that shit'. Sir, you sir, are not going to catch me out again, sir.

I shall print it out and read it on the bog, innit.

Yours,
mal
#4 at 14:57:10 - 01/08/2007
Carlo
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In a nutshell Stevas?

The problem is I don't know if what you've writen will be interesting to me.
#5 at 14:59:25 - 01/08/2007
ilmaestro
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How about you read it and find out? That way you'll never have the problem again.
#6 at 15:05:38 - 01/08/2007
JimJam
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You could spend more time on Live if you wrote less.

But epic Stevas, epic - and funny. And the subliminal message was well noted.
#7 at 15:15:37 - 01/08/2007
Stevas
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It's not on the front page because it has nothing to do with games. Yes, even less than my usual.

Right, right - I forgot about the nutshell guy. Okay. In a nutshell, then.

The first in the series was the story of Pandora, according to Stevas.

This one is the Iliad according to the same dude.

If you don't read it cos you don't like what I do, fair enough.

If you don't read it cos mythology doesn't interest you... what the fuck is wrong with you, eh?

FUCK YOU UBISOFT
#8 at 15:17:22 - 01/08/2007
lostsoul
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Holy jesus fucking ubisoft christ, that's a lot of text up there.
#9 at 15:54:33 - 01/08/2007
Carlo
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Ooo....I think I will read this.

/likes his 'mythology stuff'
/asks if Stevas' next entry to his series can have something on Hades.

Ta!
#10 at 15:58:22 - 01/08/2007
Stevas
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Of course, there IS a blink-and-you'll-miss-him cameo appearance from Pluto in the Pandora story, but... duly noted.

FUCK YOU UBISOFT
#11 at 16:04:53 - 01/08/2007
Alastair
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Stevas said:It's not on the front page because it has nothing to do with games. Yes, even less than my usual.

Right, right - I forgot about the nutshell guy. Okay. In a nutshell, then.

The first in the series was the story of Pandora, according to Stevas.

This one is the Iliad according to the same dude.

If you don't read it cos you don't like what I do, fair enough.

If you don't read it cos mythology doesn't interest you... what the fuck is wrong with you, eh?


Phew, made it to the end. A good read, I sometimes find the sheer quantity of your output off putting, but I'm glad I read this. I hope that doesn't come across as damming with faint praise....
I love Greek mythology although I've not read the Illiad. Read the Odyssey and Argonautica though.
#12 at 18:05:08 - 01/08/2007
tannerd
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I spotted the hidden message - do I get a prize?

Edit: Oh. So has everyone else.

And now my ears are bleeding.

Ah well, it was worth it...
#13 at 18:25:19 - 01/08/2007
Stevas
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Alastair said:
Stevas said:It's not on the front page because it has nothing to do with games. Yes, even less than my usual.

Right, right - I forgot about the nutshell guy. Okay. In a nutshell, then.

The first in the series was the story of Pandora, according to Stevas.

This one is the Iliad according to the same dude.

If you don't read it cos you don't like what I do, fair enough.

If you don't read it cos mythology doesn't interest you... what the fuck is wrong with you, eh?


Phew, made it to the end. A good read, I sometimes find the sheer quantity of your output off putting, but I'm glad I read this. I hope that doesn't come across as damming with faint praise....
I love Greek mythology although I've not read the Illiad. Read the Odyssey and Argonautica though.


Hey, no problem on the faint praise side of things. Just to make it clear here, I see anyone reading this shite and enjoying it is a bonus.

It's all about the writing.

And that pretty much goes for any of my "work".

And yes! You DO win a prize for spotting the hidden message!

Another installment in the story!

Sometime.

FUCK YOU UBISOFT
#14 at 19:11:14 - 01/08/2007
ilmaestro
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Norse mythology >>>>>> Greek mythology
#15 at 19:35:04 - 01/08/2007
Stevas
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/Awaits Ilmaestro's re-writing of Norse legend with interest

FUCK YOU UBISOFT
#16 at 19:56:16 - 01/08/2007
ilmaestro
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They're so good, they don't need rewriting. :p
#17 at 20:08:46 - 01/08/2007
Micro_Explosion
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Fuck me, that's long and a good read.

/applauds
#18 at 21:20:17 - 01/08/2007

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