This was first published 6/16/13 on http://www.thewritealice.com – STAY TUNED – WE ARE DESIGNING THE NEW SITE!
But just to take a walk down literary lane we thought we’d re-feature here.
It’s aeon-ual (annual + aeon), poker night for the gods, the goddesses lead by Hera decide to throw a shindig of their own, in a secret location somewhere between Earth, Cosmos and “void”, a place known as Celestial City.
The year? Does it matter? When you have shin at its juiciest like this? The divas didn’t think so. So every precaution must be made to ensure anonymity of all activity from their deity and demigod Husbands.
First, Persephone tricks Cerberus, the three-headed watchdog, and gateway to the Nether realms. With an element of dark magic she ties their mouths shut. Then, she tiptoes her way back to Hades’ Underworld bedroom chamber pre-prepping for the aeon-ual “diva’s night out”. A few minutes earlier…
Her thoughts of duty turn to glee, sexing a slumbering Hades beneath her. Thighs of iron, built from cardio, and lots of Unicorn horseback lessons pump up and down.
Persephone mounts her Husband, Hades – like a professional “woman of the night”. Tonight, she’d stroke Hades off with some extra special good loving.
What god doesn’t love soul food, ambrosia, and a fat joint right before heavenly sex?
Not Hades. His eyes bulge, his “heart” rate erratically quickens, and his umpteen hundred-year-old breath fills the room nearly gagging poor Persephone. Hades sees millions of orbs of light circling like birds flying around a crown, auras of mini-Persephones ride him to ultimate pleasure.
It is an inspiration. Golden Mean of ecstasy! The entire Underworld feels and hears the ruckus coming from the royal Underworld chambers. Outside the door, The Grim Reaper walks up with a special case for Hades to grant clemency for the soul of a recently departed hero. Mid-knock he pauses; Earthquakes rupture the floors and crack walls. Inside the chambers, we hear Hades cry out.
“Ah, Persephone! Baby! Yeah! I said YEAH, Bitch!”
Her voluptuous hips roll like dough inside Hades’ mighty palms. Coming to full orgasm, Hades snaps his raggedy multi-twisted crusty toes. His toenails break and pop, causing Persephone, still stroking, to duck. Bringing our boy to climax, moments later we find Hades sleeping in fetus position, sucking his thumb and soundly SNORING.
Let it never be said, “Death never sleeps”. Persephone makes her exit.
It’s raining, and Psyche the newest goddess on the block takes a deep sigh from the cosmic view of all eternity, space, and matter. Her beauty is above reproach, and many consider her prettier than Aphrodite. Suddenly lightening flashes, afraid of her thoughts betraying her, Psyche changes her contemplation brushing her lustrous brunette mane. A mortal gift to Rita Hayworth during her mortality on Earth, and since, nothing has ever come as close. Light, her Lover dances upon her face, neck, and hourglass figure.
She paints the perfect picture of a nubile goddess of Soul, Mind, and Body as a force itself. Her sin and redemption being her love for her Husband, the perfectly handsome god, Eros.
Having made up after a long separation, the love birds seemingly forever Honeymoon, sexing each other like rabbits day and night. Constantly, Aphrodite complains on deaf ears. Psyche possesses all of Eros, but his godly duties. Other than that, she has the boy on lock down with the Gucci cucci. Psyche glows so brightly, blinding all within sight of her.
Only Eros’ eyes can fully capture her.
He cups her breasts like delicate eggs, and spoons her buttocks as lightly as flipping “air” cakes. She lands on him, and they go at it, and at it, and at it…until Psyche realizes there’s no way she’s going to tire out desire, so she lays down, faking a deep sleep. Kissing her before he takes off into the night on his godly and goodly assignments, Eros almost climbs back into bed to take the nooky during sleep, he changes his mind, grabs his Arrows, and Bow departing with Zephyrus into thin air and “nothingness”.
Repeating three times, Psyche sits up (chanting), “I am alone with my thoughts and my thoughts alone.”
No longer does she feel his “presence” occupying her thoughts, and reading her mind. The coast is clear. Psyche jumps up, snaps her fingers, and walks out the door fully dressed, “vamped out in the finest Fashion”; Prada shades, Jimmy Choo boots, Chanel earbobs, and the finest Donna Karan wrap ever woven by Athena’s inspiration herself. She waves her finger – levitating her luggage to follow her on an imaginary conveyor belt. Stopping, she leaves a note, “Gone to Aunt Hera’s Be Back Soon – Love, Psyche” Into the naked Cosmos, Psyche commences the ethereal commute to Hera’s.
No Diva Night Out would be complete without every Male’s fantasy come true in attendance. The original drop it like-it’s-hot diva herself, Aphrodite. Her attributes are trophies winning the hearts of the immortal and mortal alike. In her luxurious home shelves line the walls weighed with trophies as, “The Laws of Attraction”.
Our attention is drawn to one in particular “The Stud god’s Freak of The Aeon” award, which included a 10×13 glossy of her bent over like a 40’s pin up. You’d never know her age from her youthful countenance and fresh “f#(kd” glow. And the best part, her beauty unlike the other goddesses is all natural, no makeup for her, no sir. Well, maybe in places you can’t see…the mirror is her best friend, and closest ally showing only she cares to see as its reflection.
“Careful, remember Narcissus.”
She closes the medicinal cabinet, unloading all its contents–sexual toys, lubricant, and aphrodisiac prophylactics–fall like candy rain inside of her “mysterious” black couture COACH bag. A reminder, as the goddess of Love, it’s mandatory for her to have the best of “everything”, and “every one”. Pausing, she hears Psyche’s “thoughts”; flexing her pinky finger, she flashes lightening scaring Psyche, just to keep the girl real.
The audacity of even thinking she could be as fine as Aphrodite! Levitating room to room she gathers apparel and accessories. In between packing, she delegates orders to man slaves tending her every whim, will, and thought. Happily, they ready their Mistress as the perfect resident Olympian Cougar, and Diva on The Down Low.
Her cyber cosmic phone rings, and it’s one of the Oracles with a special client’s request for her favors. Aphrodite walks to it, feeling it, reaching for it, then pausing, she hears… “He’s got crabs and wants to know how he can get rid of them without telling his wife.” She changes her mind, walking the opposite direction.
Another call beeps in, this time it’s Zeus.
“Hey, it’s Zeus. Need you to do me a favor, can you take your name off your phone listing? Hera is on the howl again. Hey, wanna hookup tomorrow night? I f-u-x you.”
BEEP goes the machine. Contemplating, Aphrodite slaps her hip, “The nerve!
Then she realizes if there’s anyone to have in her beholding to benefit her agendas, its Zeus. Aphrodite hurries for the door just in time to eclipse Hephaestus’ carriage. He sticks his head out, soured and sullen. She shrugs, mouthing, “Be back soon.” Steam emerges from Hephaestus’ ears, like the steam-powered invention in his craftsman hands. Too late, Aphrodite escapes.
Finishing the last lock, Athena pulls the curling iron away to execute the perfect last lock of her wheat golden hair. Her face is virginal, opal, and innocent. Her owl-like eyes are large and expressive. Athena grooms, plucking hairs one by one. Then she opens her cabinet to reveal an endless line of “MAC” fake eyelashes, each longer than the next. Lingering, she selects, and with a wave of her goddess hand, they are on, perfectly mascara-ed, long, and alluring. Suddenly her cyber cosmic pager (The gods’ version of a 4G) goes off and the message in Greek scrolls across its digital face.
“Move ya ass –love, the Other goddesses P.S. bring dip, smoke, and pornos!” Athena reads, and responds “LOL”.
Her laugh rumbles Zeus’ Mt. Olympus mansion where she resides in a loft of her own. Everything she needs, and a loveable Father who would give the crown of his head, “literally” to provide whatever she asks for. Athena, thought about giving up her virginity. But, watching her lustier siblings and the debacles they incurred, enforced her vow of purity Zeus swore upon her.
Not to mention all the homes she saw her sister Aphrodite break up. “Ew…”
This was nonsense Athena didn’t bother to discover. She preferred the Sophia of Sapphic relationships she enjoyed in the sororship of female companions. Her mind was that of a male, though her heart was that of both male and female. To become one over the other would demean her intelligence. But, a little R&R could be just the thing. Maybe she’d make a love connection or two, she mused. She kisses a poster of Christine De Pizan, gives the “bump” to a life-sized statue of Joan of Arc. Her pager goes off like gangbusters; she grabs her duffle bag, and jets in her luxuriously high tech cyber cosmic Sky Chariot pulled by Silver Winged Horses.
Minutes before becoming The Hostess With The Mostess, Hera itemizes her multi-tasks
1. Feeding her household,
2. Conducting multiple phone calls from catering,
3. Male mortal/immortal stripper services,
4. Grocery shopping for Zeus’ poker night with the gods,
6. Finding a suitable garment, and
Pointing the remote, she inhales, cueing the current disc to play in the new state of the cosmos – surround sound entertainment system.
She watches a drunken and nicely “blazed” Zeus stumble dance and moonwalk across the walkway into the den, where he has his party set up for his special Poker night with the other Gods.
As an elder goddess under Rhea, Supreme Mother, and Hera’s rule of all tradition inspired the intelligences in new ways to improve their marriages and reinstitute the love Aphrodite created for all beings to be in harmony. Whew…but enough of that tonight she was going to shake her ass, roll some dice, and fellate some mortal phallus. Keying the home security codes and locking all accessible forms of information to the whereabouts of the Diva Nite Out evening, Hera yanks her fancy “ostrich feather” purse and skedaddles, almost.
Emerging from a wall of cannabis smoke, Zeus enters the kitchen, smooching Hera on her way out the door. He points to his stomach. She points to the cyber plate warmer. Music plays on a cyber-sonic entertainment system, Zeus’ palace bases like a modern day Atlanta Georgia nightclub filled with “Gods”, male Jinn and “demi-gods” on the prowl for a good time and to bet a dime.
All that would be missing eventually was discretionary “female entertainment”. You know “scanties with loose panties” who won’t tell? Its three days and three nights of Poker, Girls, mayhem, and everything “one” can do before “one’s wife” returns for the gods. Suddenly there’s a knock. In a zip and flash, Zeus answers the dramatically celestial doors, returning to the “pit” with guest, a very erect Priapus.
The gods all moan looking at his enormous permanently erect genitalia. “I’m not screwing after him! I’ll fall in!” “Priapus, you don’t have to take Viagra daily.” Apollo jeers. “Hey Priapus watch those closing doors!” jeers another god.
“Jealous.” Priapus hisses. “Grab your phallus, Zeus is closing the door.”
Everybody breaks up with laughter, especially Zeus, who wipes an imaginary tear of glee. Suddenly, Hermes makes a wave of his finger, and Apollo’s locks fall off his head like a cheap toupee.
“Oh look Apollo, there’s Cassandra!”
Apollo takes the bait. All the gods chime in, laughing at Apollo.
“Forget you Hermes!
At least, I don’t make it a practice screwing on the run!”
Suddenly, Hermes’ special Earth pager goes off a funky hip hop joint from the ’90s, he excuses himself.
“Where’s Dionysus? I thought he was bringing more party supplies.”
The Gods are all seated and using their best Poker Faces. The Poker game begins with Zeus as dealer and official “shot caller”. The cards fly with precision to each player. Hermes returns with an urgent need to leave. Zeus notices, “Dandelions and wild vines?” Which is player Code Talk, for “Getting sum?”
Hermes grins the poker face. Zeus pauses attack, at first thinking it better not be Hera calling Hermes for special treats, and deliveries. After all, that is why Hermes is the god of all Merchants, Thieves, and Communication. Telepathing Zeus’ thought, Hermes assuages him.
“Before there was the “P” code, there was the “G” code, and Paps you know at heart, I’m a real O-G!”
It works, Zeus calms down, lightening bolts, and thunderclaps subdue. The doorbell rings. Hermes’ wings bring him to the door.
“It’s here. Follow the noise and smoke.”
It’s SIX of the sexiest nymphs ever known, each carrying bottles of the best ambrosia stolen out of Poseidon’s secret stash; a favor Hermes called in from Poseidon sans the “drinks”. The nymphs giggle, wiggle, and bounce their curves to the party. You can tell by the “oohs” and “ahhs” coming in the background, the immortals are most “pleased”.
Zeus makes the comment. “Where’s Hades?” In Hell, Hades is still knocked out, snoring.
MEANWHILE… The divas have all arrived and check in their luggage at the cybermetaquantical Celestial City Suites, an upscale deified replica of The Luxor hotel in Las Vegas. A great WHEEL OF FORTUNE in neon stars SPINS, a perfect rendition of the Tarot card bearing the Major Arcane Trump. Immortals come to Celestial City to gamble for their favors. For mortals, Celestial City is a place to gain the favors of the deities for next lifetimes, and get free soul reincarnations into whatever form or life they wish with a few pro quos to fear.
It isn’t known as Celestial City for nothing, and for the gods, it is known on the streets as “Down Low Sweets”. Like Vegas, everything, and we mean “everything” done under the stars, and left behind. Intelligences (gods) tell no tales and avow to no allegiances. For this reason, the place is astral-sinfullicious.
Aphrodite gives Hera props. “Hera, this place is splendid! Look at all the lights, beeps, and noises.”
Walking, Persephone stops and mumbles before a “NO MORTAL LOITERING” and “ALL DEALS ARE FINAL, WE ARE NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONSEQUENCES OR KARMA” sign and notice. She snaps on Aphrodite with a really catty remark.
“That’s what she hears when she plays with her plug-ins.” Athena laughs boisterously sparking bolts of thunder, which startle the Desk Clerk.
Aphrodite leans in, whispering and pointing.
“What’s that smell Persephone, oh yeah, you’re shagging Death.”
Everyone within ear shot of Aphrodite’s comment, gaggle with laughter. Not amused, Hera claps a little thunder of her OWN bringing order to chaos. About this time, keys for rooms are exchanged, and everyone follows their levitating luggage up the invisible Stairway to Heaven Hall where their rooms are located.
In passing, there is a chorus of women “ooh” and “ahh” as the Spirits of the famous pass by –Tupac, Sam Cooke, and a few other sexy as hell mortals made immortals check in with their FULL entourage.
A heckling, and really drunk Spirit of Richard Pryor checks out the skirts, “literally” in the waiting area. He pushes up on every diva, nymph, and anything resembling female in passing with no luck.
“Screw y’all, who wants eighty million year old cucci anyway.” He finishes one drink, grabbing another so as to keep up a steady rotation of intoxication.
The Spirit of Tupac tosses him a forty-ounce, and a fat dub sack of Mary Jane with gestures of blessing.
The Spirit of Rodney Dangerfield gives his two cents, “There’s gotta be a better way to reincarnate! Hoes! Most o’em have had more use than a recyclable public potty wipe! No respect! But hey, the ambrosia’s all you can drink buddy! No respect, I tells ya!”
The Spirit of Rodney downs his drinks reading at the bottom of the glass, “WINNER! You are entitled to One Free Soul Reincarnation”. Saint Peter passes in the background. The Spirit of Rodney slaps the Spirit of Richard on the back. “I won you unlucky SOB! Look!” He shows him the winning glass, “Guess, I won’t be seeing you around, it’s Earth or bust for me.” SIRENS, WHIRLS, and WHISTLES go off.
“Hey jackass, did you ask what kind of reincarnation? You could come back as rat shit. You know shit is a living breathing mass of other organisms.” The Spirit of Richard retorts with great satisfaction and hateration.
“It’s a step UP to step out into the world! Maybe it’s my luck to fertilize a Rose Garden with nice stems!”
Not letting a hater get him down, The Spirit of Rodney marches to the quickest SOUL REDEMPTION.
Gliding up the hotel, Hermes meets one of his “secretive” shady business partners.
The “petty thief look” guy just hasn’t realized he’s become immortal, Hermes thinks as he checks out the spirit’s more than shabby appearance.
“My man, you are immortal now. You can get the best in apparel.”
“I know. I like the way I look, what’s wrong wit it?”
“There are too many ways for me to enumerate my troglodyte of the miraculous.”
The broken grammar feels like daggers to Hermes’ elf tipped ears.
Shaking his head in dismay, Hermes appraises the stacks of parcels wrapped and addressed mysteriously to SUITE 26-A.
“Who’s Suite 26-A?”
“I don’t write the messages, I just delibberem.” “I get it, don’t shoot the messenger.” “You can pay’em tho.”
The Shabby Spirit sticks out his hand for a few karma duckets, expecting a really BIG payout for his dubious handiwork. Hermes reaches inside his pocket with one hand, and with the other goes where he really keeps his currency, creating it out of thin air. It works, and the Spirit takes his pay, counting, and leaving. “Hmm…Suite 26-A. I need to do a little investigation on this.”
INSIDE SUITE 26-A
The divas unpack. Athena and Aphrodite are roomies. Hera and Psyche share a super deluxe suite. What else for the Wife of the Great Benefactor, and the Soul of man? Inside, Hera’s suite, Psyche unpacks in the midst of a very informative conversation about the wiles and ways of marriage.
“It’s like magic, when we touch I feel electric.” Psyche muses, thinking of her unquenchable lover and super fine deified hotty, Eros.
“Mmm…I remember those days when I couldn’t wait for Zeus. But, time and wisdom have a way of changing things.
“Mmm…” Hera unpacks her favorite love toys, assorted colored dildos, her best dominatrix and latex, and of course, ambrosia flavored delicates that would give a twenty two year old mortal a simultaneous sweet tooth and erection. Psyche finds this a bit virginal.
“Wow, they come in different shapes and sizes?”
“Honey, do they! We create them that way. It keeps us young and the secret to all immortality is to feel and be young, for all eternity as infinitely as possible. Variety IS the spice of living. Z–, oops another thing, if you wanna never get caught in shameless predicaments like Aphrodite, never say your Husband’s name…never…for with thought goes energy, my Dear.”
“How long have you been married to Z—Him?”
With the wave of a Parade Queen, Hera’s crone like features disappear restoring her to a Nubian Goddess not a day over twenty five.
“Well, Honey we just don’t have the time to say. But, I will say this at first love is vibrant with possibilities, hopes, and dreams. After all, love is what mortals die for. But, for immortals, love is all about boundaries of power, respect, and providence. We, I mean me mostly have developed an understanding. I don’t ask questions, and he doesn’t provide me with the answers I don’t want to understand. Capiche? That’s Italian, did I mention Italian phallus is some of the best, African being the first. But…”
In a WAVE, Hera is dressed to the nines, prim, fashioned, cool, and vamped for sexual rendezvous aplenty. Her favorite treat is to find and keep mortal men as pets to worship and adore her for petty favors of grandeur and wealth. Who was she to deny them the company of her warm bed? After all, marriage to Zeus would always be.
“Can you show me how you did that?”
“What? My dear.”
“Waved your hand and voila!”
“Oh, like this…” Hera places Psyches hands, and feet in the correct pose.
Psyche topples and gains her balance. “Now focus on what you’ve always wished to look like and wave…” Closing her eyes, Psyche waves.
In the next moment, they are all standing around in a Suite 26-A, a posh upper level of deluxe classically decorated suites, with secret rooms, and vented compartments. Psyche rubs her eyes inhaling the Olympian scenery. The divas perform their best alchemies for beautification and sexual fantasy making. Lining the walls, are male mortal consorts for the evening dressed in nothing but skin and revealing togas. Their bodies finely oiled and ripe like olives. Resting her eyes on the well stocked bar and vinery, Athena saunters over for drinks, careful not to drop the pre-rolled gange joints in her satchel. Smelling, Aphrodite appears out of thin air beside her.
“What’s in the satch?” “I beg your pardon?” “You ain’t begged since Enoch was a baby, now give up the 4-1-1. I smell ‘em so give it up.” Laughing, Aphrodite lights up using a fire extinguisher fashioned into a lighter. “Nice.” “Yeah, He-OOPS…the hubby made for our trip to Florence last aeon. Wanna try It?” Hera peruses the wall-to-wall line of mortals picking out her ‘candy” for the night.
She chooses two at a time and sometimes, three. Psyche follows her Mentor closely, her eyes growing wider watching the beginnings orgies, all giggling and fondling their mortal toys like lusty gods. Wandering over to Hera, Aphrodite exhales a cirrus of “gange” smoke, giving everyone contact “highs” which Psyche seems to enjoy…She languishes it so much she takes a pre-rolled for herself, puffing away until Athena instructs her on the proper etiquette of inhaling.
Under the influence, Aphrodite frequently wets herself. Hera notices, not amused.
“Have you ever heard of pantiliners Aphrodite? You get them at the ninety-nine karma stores. You’re squirting all over the shag, trick!”
“Well, that just means this was better than last aeon’s wack ass joint! Athena hit me again, whew this is the bizness yo!” Athena giggles.
Hera turns to Psyche, “Don’t worry, it’s one of her other personalities coming out, I believe this is Shaquanda or is it Iyesha?” Suddenly, eyes are drawn to Isis. She looks, acts, and moves like Aphrodite, except for one difference, she’s Egyptian.
Psyche sounds off,
“Wow, who’s that?” Persephone joins the group, “Isis Egyptian Goddess of fertility, love, sex, and the secrets of the Father Diety, Ra, Z—oops, the counterpart to her husband.”
Persephone notions Psyche to Hera as she is speaking of Zeus. “Oh. She’s so exotically gorgeous.” Athena hopes, “are you into girls?” “Leave her alone, she’s only been with one male her entire existence.”
A HUSH SWEEPS the room, and the party resumes.
“You’re a virgin, sweetie?” Aphrodite slurs, “I just knew you were a huzzy.”
“Takes one to know one eh Aphro?” Persephone gets in a zinger. All the goddesses stop to NOD, “Yes”, resuming freak-nasty activities.
An Indian myth goddess, Shakti giggles by, straddling the backside of a male consort with a rather large and erected “extension”.
“He looks like Priapus.” “Shhh!” “Oops.” “Whee!”
“Females love the same erotica as males?”
“I think we have a winner here Chuck!” Aphrodite takes another hit in successions.
“Gotta keep the flow goin. That’s what it’s all about keeping the flow going, partying like its 1999. Anybody got that song? Screw it, let’s kidnap the artist formerly known as a good lay.”
Persephone’s hand goes up, “I’m game! Tell Diana to toss me her bow and arrows!”
“Follow your heart, and it will lead your soul, Psyche. Do as you like, as long as it’s done in love!”
Athena finds herself three very intoxicated and willing nymphs to play “house” with.
“Here, here!” chimes Athena. Suddenly, three goddesses appear with terrestrial music
Artist, Prinze, fresh out of the shower, naked and still dripping.
Persephone checks out his “shriveled” genitalia, snickering.
“Damn…I thought he was packing.”
“To be the goddess of Death and Regeneration, you sure are dumb. He just got out of the shower. Everybody knows the nads are shriveled fresh out of the shower. Nice work ladies, here’s your pay.”
Aphrodite hands the ninja nymphs three “goddess baskets” fully loaded with goddess spells, wish “gifts”, and special fruit filled “magical” delicacies/inventions not yet on the market/cyber erotica perfect for any alchemical occasion.
The goddesses encircle the Artist and commence a heavenly orgy in drive by fashion.
HERMES the Hu$tlah aka MERCURY: THE MENSCH
Outside the door…Hermes eavesdrops. Suddenly, there is a knock at Suite 26-A. The party STOPS, and the ladies all hide waiting for Hera to answer. Hera looks in the peephole the one, Hermes doesn’t see.
“It’s Hermes! Sh!” Athena whispers, “He’ll go away, remain silent, and still. He energizes himself on “thinking”. So, don’t think, about anything…Better yet, think of “nothing”.”
The goddesses all focus and meditate on “nothing”. Stillness, Hermes drops a pin and hears its impact on the black and white marble Italian floor. He picks it up like a scientist gathering research. He pretends to walk away, his steps fading naturally. Inside, Hera exhales.
“He’s gone. Party Up!” EIGHT HOURS later OF ORGYING, PARTYING, DRINKING, and SMOKING. The Goddesses are all reclining and getting their facials, listening to the TOP 40 astrology reports and forecasts narrated by Moirae, The Three Fates. Another knock, its Hermes in disguise as a Delivery Man. Hera, motions for Athena to answer as she sounds the most like a male.
In her most gruffest male baritone Athena answers, “What?”
“Sir, we have a special delivery for Suite 26-A.”
“Leave it.” Hera slides the “tip” underneath the door, a sizeable “tip”.
Hermes pockets the loot, turning invisible, he blends inside the wall, waiting for the door to open.
Hera grabs the door handle, and Psyche cautions her to pause, “Wait, I sense something amiss.”
Athena chimes in, her intuition working overtime, “So do I. Wait for a couple of hours. It may be Hermes in disguise. The last thing we need is a bribing party crasher. He is not a Salahi.”
She digs inside her mystery bag, and tosses a pre-rolled “gange” into the whirling portal transmitting the live feed of The Fates, Clotho, Lachesis, and Atropos appear in 3D imaging. Hera asks,
“What is Hermes doing here?”
The first to light up, Atropos mimics an “electric scissors” commercial, “It slices, it dices. It turns mere mortals into mices….”
“This is the ish, Athena.” Lachesis snatches it from her grasp.
Rolling up her sleeves, Clotho pulls out a specially made crystal ball created entirely out of the finest quartz, diamond, rubies, and carnelian. Persephone eyes it. Clotho, Lachesis, and Atropo all gather to interpret. They reply, the bubbling brew behind them pops louder, as they speak. Atropos instructs Clotho, “Stir the brew Sister Weirdest.” Which Clotho does with constant precision and forlorn passion.
Outside, Hermes, can only hear snippets of the broadcast. In the background the speakers bump the bass of a live performance from Producer Lil’ Jon, and a half nude Usher,
“Beware the eyes and ears of immortal thought for where thoughts are there you find the secrets of all hearts.”
“Enough with the cryptic get to the real…”
Hermes dons The Invisible Helmet entering Suite 26-A, undetected. Atropos answers Aphrodite, the smoke billowing “He’s in your midst right now, Ho. What is essential is invisible to the eye, but not the heart from which all understanding emanates…” With that, the Fates end the transmission. Athena sees the invisible form of Hermes, circulating. Rushing to Hera she gives her a sign.
Hera follows, waving her hand, Athena focuses, and suddenly Hermes is tele-transported into an alternate reality of Suite 26-A.”
“Damn! They’re good. But I’m better.”
Hermes exits the suite and descends to the hotel suite searching for the perfect “disguise” to crash the divas’ party. “Hurry, goddesses we must gather and relocate. Hermes will be persistent to no good end for the rest of us.” Hera urges. There is a sudden upsweep of activity. The Goddesses all form a pentacle and commence to create a secret wall of “anonymity” to protect them.
“Let’s see him get through this.” Athena chimes. “What’s the worst that could happen?” Psyche asks.
Quickly Hera tells her. “Here, here. Why do you think I knocked out the ol’ man with a three day three-night one hitter quitter?” coos Persephone.
“I thought with that tired old cooch they all are.” Once again, Hera has to separate Persephone and Aphrodite. “Enough! We have to band together, division breeds weakness.” “Hera’s right. But if I know my brother, he’s looking for transcendence.”
THE DIONYSUS CONNECTION
Downstairs, Hermes spies Dionysus.
Dionysus, the god of Wine, Revelry, Rock n’ Roll, and overall Good Cheer and entourage make a GRANDIOSE entrance. His long train of immortals includes dreamy eyed groupies, fellow band members, and security.
Like a Rock Star, a Rock Star…
He moves through the place on clouds and bubbles of “groupie love”, kissing and hugging his way up the Stairwell to Suite 26-A. Like a homing device Hermes attaches himself invisibly. Hotel staffs beckon to Dionysus’ every request, clambering for “big dollar tips” the god is notorious for giving. Everybody loves Dionysus.
“Nobody cold rocks a party like Dionysus. I’ll blend in with him.” Midway, Dionysus PAUSES alerting one of his band mates to inquire,
“What’s up D?” “I smell something in the air.”
Placing THE RING OF DIVINE LIGHT on his long artistic finger he points and waves Hermes into oblivion. Inside, the goddesses get their “nasty” on.
Psyche is bent over the lap of a more than happy mortal sex slave, getting spanked.
“Oooh…yeah, now use an open palm and squeeze.”
In the height of ecstasy Psyches reveals her true glory. It’s so beautiful, and entrancing. But meant for no mortal to gaze upon, human flesh burns away from the skeleton, exploding
“Athena, we have a cleanup.”
SOMEWHERE IN OBLIVION
Hermes claps his heals awakening his magic “wings” fluttering through Cosmos, space, and time with the speed of a Hummingbird in back to Celestial City.
MEANWHILE …The THIRD DAY/NIGHT of Senseless carousing continues…
The sealed door to Suite 26-A opens, and Dionysus floats in on a cloud, glistening like a modern Adonis. Raising a mirror, Aphrodite refreshes her makeup in hopes of scoring Dionysus’ attentions, affections, and utter devotion. Player hating, Persephone steps in between them planting her plush rear on Dionysus rock hard thigh.
He notices a slight unpleasant odor – Persephone, and promptly removes himself, tastefully.
Aphrodite, Psyche, Athena, and Hera laugh at Persephone’s expense. Persephone scowls future paybacks.
Tastefully, she walks away, but not before her Mother Demeter appears out of nowhere like a commercial bearing a “gift bag” of homemade hygienics disappearing just as quickly.
Aphrodite chimes, “It’s not nice to fool with Mother Nature.”
With the wind of his arm Dionysus starts up the band with a solo guitar RIFF that would give Jeff Beck chills. His long rock n’ roll coif flowing like Jim Morrison, Dionysus takes the microphone and ROCKS THE BELLS.
Playing it cool, Aphrodite visualizes all the karma sutra positions she’ll make with Dionysus after the after party. Reading her thoughts, in mid note, Dionysus glides to her and gives her some one on one, inciting jealousy from their onlookers.
“She’s such a whore.” A nymph snorts.
“And what exactly is a nymph?” Aphrodite sarcastically blasts to Dionysus’ enjoyment.
Leaving the stage on fire “literally”, Dionysus approaches Aphrodite. Kissing her hand, Dionysus cups it and her ample BACKSIDE,
“Yummm. you must be the goddess of Love. You got jelly and jam back there, don’t you?”
“Just what I’ve always wanted a White man who can fuck Black!” Aphrodite GRINS.
We fade to BLACK.
BACK AT MOUNT OLYMPUS
Boredom has set in, and the deities seek the company of their “MIA” wives and female counterparts. Zeus wonders,
“Where is Hermes? He was supposed to be back days ago.”
Mars zings, “He’s probably thigh-high with Aphrodite.” Mars ducks just in time to miss all the inventions, and bolts of lightening, from a mad-as-hell Hephaestus held back by a much madder Zeus.
“Touchy, touchy…you know Heph, forgiveness is divine.”
“Yeah, and payback is a mutha—“ Zeus slaps his hand over Hephaestus’ mouth, cutting him off like a FCC ruling.
“Look it’s obvious all of us miss our wives, and…” eyeing Mars, Zeus finishes, “other’s wives. They return tonight. I for one can’t wait to see Hera, this place is a pig sty, and I’m hungry.”
“She’s not missing you.” Hermes counters, appearing out of thin air. “What do you mean Hermes, and where have you been to know that?”
“What I said, and Celestial City doing what horny deities do best. Sex lots of it with as many partners as necessary.”
Suddenly the room empties as the gods go on the warpath to catch their wives, and bring them back for a little “justice” and a lot of “payback”.
Eros intercedes, “my wife would never indulge, I keep her happy.” “So was the guy slapping her ass, and fondling her breasts.”
In a whir of lights, and ASTROTRAVEL the Gods speed to Celestial City, enraged, horny, tired, and some hoping to score a little infidelity of their own.
IN THE BLINK OF AN “EYE”
Zeus pounds the service “bell” creating quakes throughout the building. Rising like a rabbit, a very scared and shaking Desk Clerk emerges. “May-May I help you your Majesty?”
“Suite 26-A! Now!” the attendant jerks back from the ZAPS of lightening forming out of mid-air from Zeus’ anger. He ducks getting the records and keys.
His anger nearing full tilt, causes machine to go off with payouts and payoff for happy mortals, “I hit the jackpot!” “Please your Majesty, our hotel we’ll lose business this way.”
“Suite 26-A! Now!”
“Right this way.”
Zeus, followed by a long line of angry husband gods ascends the Stairwell of Heaven leading them to the secret entrance where Suite 26-A is located.
IN A “MATRIX” FLASH
The goddesses hear Zeus and their enraged Husbands.
“Hurry, it’s the husbands!”
Forming another pentacle, the goddesses work their best magic, changing all time, matter and reality. Creating vacuums of openings, which teleport them home. Successfully, the Goddesses escape the wrath of their Husbands, and the bribes of Hermes.
Hera works wonders on a complete renovation prior to Zeus’ hurried arrival, lightening bolts flashing. The bored little domestic goddess – Psyche emerges in full dominatrix for a night of loving with Eros.
A gleeful smirk, she CRACKS her whip against her chaps.
Stirring a glass of tea, Athena reads and writes books simultaneously simply “thinking”, she telepathically types with fervor.
Straddling an awakening and most “excited” Hades, Persephone resumes what they were doing before she left.
All is as it was, except for one goddess.
Suspended in a completely “new” channel of state of space, time, and being, somewhere…inside a luxurious bed chamber with an exotically crafted Egyptian canopied bed, we hear the squeaking of Dionysus knocking boots with Aphrodite. Aphrodite moans and we float away into “nothingness”.
And all is well with the gods and goddesses that is until the next episode of “Drastically Desperate Not-so-Domestic Goddesses”. See you next aeon-ual!