Olympus Circa 2016

OLYMPUS CIRCA 2016.

The mountain was enveloped in a bright honey coloured cloud. Below, the dark azure sea tenderly caressed the rocks which lay at its feet.

Olympus Play Time Village claimed to be a very exclusive club. It had been going since ancient times but Zeus had felt it needed a makeover to chime with the modern world.

"More of a hip community." He said, but not everyone agreed.

The buzz names got on Hera's nerves. “Did they have to call each other by “dims"-- as Zeus called them--diminutives? How stupid was that? Athena would never agree to "Ena," would she?”

Zeussie shifted uneasily in his hammock and gazed at the sun as it reached its zenith.

"Do you feel it's getting hotter?" he asked directing his question at the figure of Hera basking on a sunbed under the shade of an olive tree on the other side of the terrace. "Maybe I should turn down its rays a bit, what do you think?"

Her sleepy eyes showed no interest. Zeussie Boy was always fiddling with something. If it wasn't the Sun, it would be the sea or the fate of some miserable mortal.

"Whatever," she said and turned again to watch the bronzed body of their handyman Pollo who sat polishing his kit including his golden wand.

"He has pretty feet," she thought, “ and I could polish his golden wand if he wished."

Pollo caught her eye and chuckled. He read her thoughts but he said nothing, just strapped on his sandals and stroked the feathers in a suggestive way.

Zeussie sat up; his ruddy beard bristled and his famous gaze turned on the slim young man.

"Go and find me some news of any mortal events, and,” he added, "be quick about it"

"No problemo," said the messenger and he shot off like a fire cracker.

"Where does he get these phrases from?"

Hera saw her chance. "If he spent less time with your beautician, maybe he would speak better."

"For the last time, she is not a beautician, she's a beauty consultant and her name is Aphro as you well know."
“Aphroditty you mean," she said mispronouncing the name with relish.

She took up a parchment about Mars and his wonderful tales of Wars. Nobody believed a word he wrote but it was good entertainment. She wrapped herself in her gossamer robe and went to find some peace in a Grove far away from her husband.

Zeussie prowled around the celestial Hall looking for something to fix when a figure tottered into sight carrying a large horn shaped basket.
The purplish face and pimply nose radiated good will and as he staggered under the weight of the load, he shouted;
"What's the time, Mister Wolf?" and giggled.
He took a handful of grapes out of the horn and began to eat them. The juice ran down his face and dripped onto his ample chest, staining the pure white cloth of his toga.

Zeussie looked at him with disgust.
"Where have you been, you sloppy old Toper?"

"Bin in the Arcadian Fields for a bit of a romp."
He seemed to relish the word 'Romp'-he gave
it a particular emphasis, knowing it would annoy his interrogator.- "Some of those Nymphs are a bit racy, you know" and he gave a sly wink.

"Leave them alone," snapped Zeussie, "they are just innocent sprites of the woodlands."

"Fat lot you know!" The plump lump sniggered but the older God ignored him.

Down below, they saw the surface of the planet Earth bathed in sunshine. Only half the world was in the light, but there seemed to be smoke obscuring the view.

"What's that, goin' on then?" asked Bach, the fat one, "looks like a bit of fun -a sort of bonfire party maybe?"

"Not at mid-day, You Oaf! Must be trouble of some sort. Wait till Pollo gets back and we'll find out."

Bach drifted off trailing vine leaves and fruit as he made for the terrace where Hera relaxed. She groaned as the figure climbed the steps with a heavy tread.

"He's in one of his moods again," said Bach, "doesn't like to call me Bacchus anymore. What he needs is a good drink."

He necked some fermented juice from a stone jar he pulled from the Horn basket and then with an unsteady hand, offered it to Hera.

At that moment, a matronly figure appeared from the Great Hall. She was dressed in a silken robe with ample folds to cover her large figure. Around her neck a spiral of serpents coiled languidly into her hair.

" Allo Ena," tittered Bach.

The grand lady withered him with a look and ignored him.

"Where's your husband?" she demanded, "He should be on the job not wasting time with idiotic ideas."

Hera unrolled another fold of Mars Military Marvels and pretended to read.

"No idea," she said, "probably chasing moonbeams or designing a new Elysium."

Athena snorted and pushed past the roly-poly figure who simpered at her. By the time she reached Zeus, he was watching the Earth with a keen eye.

"What's going on?"

Zeussie was scratching his beard.

"Take look at this," he pointed down to the little planet Earth.
"See! They're in a hell of a mess. Look at the smoke -Look at the fires!"

"Is this your doing?" she asked.

"No Way!" Zeussie was back in his hip mode, "they do this all by themselves!"

“Senseless brutes!" Athena turned away, it was not her business.

In a puff of silver smoke, Pollo appeared, a grin on his face as he undid his silver-winged sandals.

"What a lark! They really are tripping, down there."

"Speak English!" said Athena "not gibberish! You know the language of the Gods."

"Oh! Yeah! OK" said the glossy youth "Guns, bombs, missiles-you name it, they have them all!"

"Anything new?" Zeus lent forward to get a better view.
"You bet!" -The elder God ignored the slang-- "some whizzy little toys that buzz around like fireflies except they fire missiles!"

Zeus looked depressed.

"What's up Zeussie?" demanded Pollo.

Zeus threw an irritated look at the stupid boy;

"Don't you see, you Dumbo, They don't need us?”