Dinner with the Gods

         I was on top of Mount Olympus chatting with the gods, amidst the tall white pillars and the clear blue sky that surrounded those pillars. Zeus boasted of his hunting expeditions, as Hera went into the kitchen.
         Ares spoke of how he stirred this country against that country and boasted over the bloodshed he has caused through his espionage. He marveled at how such a trifle disagreement can lead to so much destruction.
         Apollo came and recited his poetry that told of long dead civilizations, human struggles for peace, wisdom, and money, and the beauty of the sun and all that its light shines on.
         Hermes, the mischievous little devil-god that he is, played pranks on all the gods throughout the dinner, hiding Zeus’ lightning, “borrowing” Cupid’s bow and arrows, while the god of love was distracted by his persistent daydream of Psyche, in order to make Aphrodite fall in love with a pig dripping in mud, and he also persisted in diluting all of Bacchus’ wine.
         And as I stood there, listening to their stories, Hades moved in the shadows behind me. He stealthily snatched me and took me to the underworld, his dark and dreary kingdom. I dined with him and his wife Persephone. Much to the chagrin of Persephone, Hades persisted in talking business with me as he wanted to find ways of improving his image in the public eye. Then, frustrated, Persephone mentioned that it was nearing time for her to visit her mother again. Many awkward silences ensued as they tried to keep a good face on things. I gave my scraps to Cerberus and went outside with him to play fetch. I threw the ball and he would catch it until I finally realized the ball was actually an infant’s skull. Horrified, I threw it as far as I could and ran from the place until I was convinced that Cerberus was not following me.
         Then I found myself with the fates. Not too surprisingly, they had been expecting me. They sat me down and told me of great and horrible things that were to happen in my lifetime. These fates told me of world wars, poverty, and the like. And worst of all, they told me that all of my children, nephews, and nieces would die in a hurricane next month and that I would be the last of my line. I would produce no more children. They would not let me know of the fate of my wife, or any other loved ones for that matter, for I believe they wished to torture me. Yes, they wished to torture me with the fear of being alone. Why else would they burden me with these gloomy prophecies of the future? They bid me leave and handed me payment for my ride back to the land of the living.
         I walked along the River of Styx, watching all the souls pass by, looking up with weary eyes. They were strangely quiet. I expected there to be many loud moans and groans, but, as sad and weary as they may have been, they seemed content, as if they had come to accept their fate.
         I paid my due to get on the boat to cross over the River of Styx to make my way home. It was a strangely peaceful ride.