Tyndareus and the Dioscuri enjoyed goblets of wine around a table in the king’s chamber as Odysseus regaled them with tales of his daring do.
“So I was all like, ‘Damn Medusa,’ you got a butter face.’”
“Ha,” the king said. “And what, pray tell, is a ‘butter face?’”
Odysseus sipped from his goblet. “Its when a woman has a smokin’ bod ‘but her’ face? Whoa nelly! Put a bag on it!”
Tyndareus and his lads erupted into laughter.
“I’m serious,” Odysseus said. “I literally had to put a bag on Medusa’s face. I wasn’t trying to be rude but the bitch had snakes for hair. Plus there was the whole ‘turn you into stone if you so much as look at her’ vibe she had going on. It was all very awkward.”
“Oh Odysseus,” Tyndareus said. “Seeing you and my boys having such a rollicking good time brings back happy memories of days long past.”
The king’s face turned grim as he set down his goblet. “But I’m afraid we must move on to a more pressing matter….Helen.”
The Dioscuri gasped.
“Oh for the love of the gods,” Castor said.
“Has she been kidnapped by another pervert already?” Pollux inquired. “I haven’t even had a chance to take a bath yet.”
“I can tell,” Odysseus said as he pinched his nose. “Not for nothing but you two smell like you just murdered a couple of crusty old fucks.”
The king shook his head. “No. Helen is safe, but as we all know, not for long. It will only be a matter of time before another crafty pervert circumvents our security, maneuvers past the mighty Spartan army, and takes off into the night with our dear Helen.”
“We’ll be ready, father,” Castor said.
“We always are,” Pollux said.
“Yes,” Tyndareus said. “But there will not be another rescue mission for you, Dioscuri, for the time has come for Helen to be married.”
Gasp. Gasp. Gasps all around.
“Well,” Castor said. “Helen certainly won’t want for suitors.”
“The line will surely back up all the way to Asia,” Pollux said.
“Indeed,” Tyndareus said. “However, I have already decided who the groom shall be.”
The Dioscuri and Odysseus took turns guessing.
“Ajax the Great?” Odysseus asked. “Word around the Aegean Sea is that the man is packing a jumbo wang. We’re talking third leg territory. Obviously I don’t have visual confirmation but they don’t call him ‘great’ for nothing.”
“I always assumed it was because he is great at battle,” Castor said.
“No,” Odysseus said. “Stop talking nonsense. Its because he has a great big jumbo wang.”
“It is not Ajax the Great,” the king said.
Castor snapped his fingers. “Who is that fellow…the one from Arcadia?”
“Agapenor?” Pollux asked.
“That’s him,” Castor said as he pointed at his brother.
“Aww shit,” Odysseus said. “Agapenor the Arcadian. Those Arcadians are some swarthy ass muthafuckas. Sappy romantics. Good choice, Pops.”
The king sighed. “It is not Agapenor the Arcadian.”
Odysseus leaned back in his chair. “Just tell me its not Ascalaphus, because if you ask me, that guy is a real ‘Ass-cala-hatus.’”
“Helen can surely do better than the underworld’s orchard keeper,” Castor said.
“It is not Ascalaphus,” the king said.
“Well who is it?” Odysseus asked.
“Yeah,” Castor said.
“Don’t keep us in suspense,” Pollux added.
Tyndareus rose to his feet and leaned over the table. “Helen’s husband…shall be…Menelaus.”
The faces of all three men turned red with anger.
“Booo!” shouted Odysseus. “Booo!”
“Minotaur shit!” Castor cried.
“Total minotaur shit,” Pollux added, rather needlessly.
Odysseus made a cone with his hands and shouted into it. “Booo! Do over! Do over!”