Category Archives: Helen of Troy: History’s Hottest Chick

A Note on Helen of Troy: History’s Hottest Chick

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Hey 3.5 readers.

So, how the heck I find myself writing this story?

It all happened really fast.

Tuesday, I was perusing some books when I came across a novel set during the time of Ancient Greece about Helen of Troy falling in love with a warrior.

I didn’t read it but I started to become curious about Good Ole Hotpants Helen.

I’d seen movies and/or read about her before.  The most prominent movie I can remember is 2004’s Troy.

So I looked up some information about her. I found some scholarly articles written about her, how she was born, how she was kidnapped or possibly fell in love with another dude and was taken or went voluntarily to Troy, depending on whose side you believe, thus resulting in the ten year long Trojan War.

Apparently, I’m an old hat at this now because as I began reading, I started writing jokes in my head:

  • Helen was conceived when Leda had sex with Zeus, who’d taken the form of a swan. That right there.  I came up with a million swan fucker jokes.
  • She was so beautiful that men constantly fought over her and one of the most famous examples was that two old kings kidnapped her because they wanted to do the bom chicka wow wow with her just to experience being with a hot chick before they died from old age.  Thus, the “crusty old fuck” jokes started rolling in.
  • Castor and Pollux, aka “the Dioscuri” aka  Helen’s brothers, had to rescue her from the elderly kings.  Immediately, I turn it into, “Geez, these two poor schmucks have been saddled with having to rescue their super hot sister from a different pervert every week.”
  • Fun fact – all these years I never knew the villains in Face/Off, my favorite 90s action movie, were named Castor and Pollux Troy after Helen’s bros.
  • And that’s just the surface.  Ancient Greek history is a veritable cornucopia of sex, murder, and absurdity, rife for a comedian to exploit.

Now, here’s the thing.

I have put way too much work into my Zombie Western books.

So I absolutely will not abandon them at this point.

An idea for a funny book about Helen of Troy, told through modern language, popped into my head.

Wednesday night I wrote two chapters then went to bed.

Thursday morning I woke up, read what I wrote, and I don’t mean to toot my own horn, but I peed my pants laughing.

That’s big for me because I am always very harsh on my own writing.  But laughter is honest.  Laughter never lies.  As I read those two chapters, I couldn’t stop laughing.

I’m going to get back to Zombie Western and see that through.  My feeling is that maybe once a week I’ll write a chapter of Helen of Troy just to see if I can keep it going.

The story of the Trojan War is long, detailed and has like ten zillion characters.  It would be a challenge to keep the comedy going throughout.  Not sure I can do it but the first couple chapters have led me to believe it is worth a try.

But at any rate I won’t be quitting Zombie Western as I have put way too much work into that to hang it up now.

And what I have learned is no matter how tired you get, how busy you get, you do need to keep coming back to the story you are writing again, and again, and again because if you go away from it for too long then you’ll never come back.

So fear not.  Zombie Western will continue.  Not sure about the future of Helen of Troy yet but if it continues to be this funny I don’t think I can stop.  But I think I have the discipline now to keep coming back to write two stories at once.

The key is that you keep coming back.  Like anything difficult in life, if you keep coming back to work on it, it will eventually get done.  Maybe not as soon as you’d like but it does get done.

Tell me what you think and be honest, 3.5 readers.

The story of Helen of Troy, told through modern language.  Yay or nay?

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Helen of Troy: History’s Hottest Chick – Chapter the Third

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The sound of a blaring ram’s horn tore across Sparta before it finally made its way to the king’s ears.

“What?” the king asked.

Leda stirred. “Could it be?”

The gold plated doors to the throne room opened to reveal a rather stern looking muscle bound, long haired warrior. He entered in the company six other warriors, three on each side.

Their uniforms consisted of little more than leather thongs and flowing capes.

A frazzled Tyndarecus sprang to his feet. “Oh, thank the gods, ’tis Audax, General of the Mighty Spartan Army. What news do you bring?”

The Spartans marched in a stoic manner until they reached the throne. Then, they shouted a very guttural “oohrah” before falling to their knees before the king.

“My good king,” Audax said. “My good queen. Castor and Pollux approach the port in their ship.”

“And? Tyndarecus asked.

“Umm,” the general said. “The wind is in their sails and their pace is steady?”

The king slapped his forehead. “For the love of Hera’s tucas, man! Is Helen with them?”

“Oh!” Audax said. “Yes! Indeed she is. I spotted the princess standing on deck.”

“Not trying to tell you how to do your job, general,” Tyndarecus said. “But you might have led off with that.”

The warriors arose. “On your word, we shall escort you to the port, your highness.”

Leda stood up. “I must fetch our niece.”

“Yes,” a relieved Tyndarecus said. “Collect dear Penelope so that our family will finally be together again.”

Three Spartans left the throne room with the Queen.

Meanwhile, the king, Audax, and the other three warriors departed.

As the party reached the hustle and bustle of the city, the king couldn’t help but notice the skimpy attire the warriors were wearing.

“Audax?”

“Yes, my liege?”

“Is it me or have the uniforms of the Mighty Spartan Army grown absurdly scant?”

“’Tis not you, my king,” Audax said. “A reduction in clothing is one of many changes I have made as of late to give the Mighty Spartan Army an edge over all challengers.”

“I never thought one could could go wrong with a good tunic,” Tyndarecus said.

“All due respect, my king,” Audax replied. “But tunics are bulky and get in the way. Leather thongs allow for much freer movement.”

“And the capes?” Tyndarecus inquired.

“Oh the capes are just badass,” Audax said. “When our enemies spy the Mighty Spartan Army rolling up on them, they’ll be all like, ‘Damn, those bad ass Spartan muthafuckas be wearin’ the shit out of them capes!’”

“I see,” the king said. “And what other changes have you made?”

A miserable wretch covered in boils hobbled up to the party on his cane with a live chicken tucked under his arm.

“Huzzah!” the wretch said. “’Tis Good King Tyndarecus! May the gods smile upon you, your majesty!”

“Step aside, peasant!” Audax said as he knocked the wretch over with his pinky finger and kept walking.

“A bit harsh, weren’t you?” the king asked.

“I don’t know where that lowly dog has been, my king,” Audax said. “He coughs on you, you get sick and before you know it I’m slitting my own throat to atone for my failure to protect the man the gods have selected to rule over Sparta. Now where was I?”

“The changes,” the king said.

“Ah yes,” Audax said. “I’ve given the men a robust schedule. Up before dawn for swordplay practice, followed by an afternoon of rubbing scented oils and lotions into one another’s rippling muscles, followed by an evening of slippery wrestling until we fall asleep.”

“That seems rather uh, homoerotic,” the king said. “Not that I’m judging.”

“Scented oils and lotions are good for the muscles, your highness,” Audax said. “It brings the gallons upon gallons of testosterone coursing through our veins to the surface and makes us stronger. I swear it has nothing to do with us enjoying putting our greasy hands all over each others’ firm, supple bodies.”

“I’m sure it doesn’t,” Audax said.

“Also, I have trained the men to shout incredibly manly statements about themselves upon command.”

Audax snapped his fingers. “Spartans! Flatter yourselves!”

“I possess gigantic testicles forged from wrought iron by the hand of Hephaestus, God of All Blacksmiths, himself!” the first warrior shouted. “Ooorah!”

“Is that true?” the king asked.

“I don’t know that it is not true,” Audax said. “Spartans! Continue!”

“I can snap the neck of a griffin with nothing but the tight muscles of my buttocks!” the second Spartan shouted. “Ooorah!”

“That’s true,” Audax said. “I’ve seen him do it. Third Spartan, report!”

“I crave man ass all night and day!” the third Spartan shouted. “Oohrah!”

Audax rolled his eyes. “Third Spartan, that’s not really a macho statement about yourself so much as an interest in an, um, extracurricular activity that the good king doesn’t need to know about.”

“I’m sorry, General!” the third Spartan said. “I’ll think about it and get back to you! Oorah!”

“How does making them shout manly statements about themselves make them better warriors?” the king asked.

“Would you want to go up against an army of Spartans with such massive egos to compliment their oiled up muscles?” Audax asked.

“I should say…” The king stopped to cough in his fist. “I should say not.”

“My king,” Audax said as he stretched out his hand. “Please, let me assist you.”

“No,” Tyndarecus scoffed. “I may be old but I’m not dead.”

“I understand,” Audax said.

The party reached the port and waited as the royal ship drew nigh.

“My king,” the General said. “Far be it from me to question your wisdom, but I hope you know that the Mighty Spartan Army and I are infinitely loyal to the royal family. Should you ever desire to give the Dioscuri a break, we shall relish the chance to rescue Princess Helen the next time she is kidnapped by a pervert, which, given the way things have been going, will no doubt be sometime around next Tuesday, or Wednesday at the latest.”

The king smiled and patted the general on the shoulder.

“Noble Audax. Never would I question your loyalty to my family or to Sparta, especially when you and the Mighty Spartan Army have proven yourselves time and time again on the field of battle, but Helen is by far the hottest chick in the world and I’m sure you will understand that I just feel more comfortable when she is in the company of her brothers as opposed to an army of musclebound egomaniacs with oiled up muscles and gallons upon gallons of testosterone coursing through their veins.”

“Oh, you need not worry, your majesty,” Audax said. “We are not interested in Helen in that way.”

The king was taken aback. “Seriously?”

“No doubt,” Audax said.

“But aside from her kin, Helen is desired by every being with a penis,” the king said.

Tyndarecus raised an eyebrow. “I thought you said you dudes weren’t into other dudes.”

“I did not say we were not, not into dudes,” Audax replied. “Besides, I thought you said you weren’t judging?”

“I’m not,” Tyndarecus said.

“Mighty Spartan Army requirements are very strict,” the general explained. “If we were into dudes, which I’m not saying we are, we couldn’t very well run around advertising the fact that we are into dudes now could we?”

“Ah,” Tyndarecus said. “So you’re saying that you’re all into dudes?”

The general threw his hands up. “I didn’t say that.”

“Well,” the king said as he watched the ship come in. “I appreciate the offer, Audax, but I can’t take the risk that one of your men might be a switch hitter.”

“Not gonna lie,” Audax said. “The ninth Spartan warrior isn’t so much into dudes or chicks as he is into anything with a warm hole of any kind.”

“TMI, Audax,” the king said. “TMI.”

The ship docked. A contingent of sailors attached a gangplank to allow the occupants to exit the vessel.

“Princess Helen approaches!” shouted the first sailor from the ship’s deck. “Avert your eyes!”

“Shut your eyes!” the second sailor shouted as he walked down the gangplank. “Princess Helen comes this way!”

“What’s everyone on about?” the third sailor asked from the dock.

It was too late. All but the third sailor closed their eyes. That sailor, upon spotting the glorious beauty of Helen as she strolled down the gangplank with her brothers in tow, immediately went cross-eyed, became consumed by an orgasmic fit, then dropped to the deck.

“Why didn’t anyone tell me the Princess was disembarking?” the third sailor asked. “I soiled my tunic!”

“We did,” the first sailor shouted from the deck with his eyes shut. “Clean the shit out of your ears!”

Helen spotted Tyndarecus.

“Father!” the princess cried as she ran over and hugged the old man.

“Oh my darling daughter Helen!” Tyndarecus said as he wept tears of joy. “I am so delighted that you survived this week’s kidnapping.”

“The Dioscuri rescued me from the crusty old fucks!” Helen proudly declared.

“Castor and Pollux!” the king said.

The Dioscuri took turns hugging their old man.

“Father,” Castor said.

“Father,” Pollux repeated.

“My heart swells with pride that you have saved your sister from yet another weekly kidnapping!” the king said.

“Yeah,” Castor said. “Not like there was anything else we’d rather be doing.”

“Right,” Pollux said. “Now let’s go nap for five minutes before some pervert nabs Helen and we do this shit all over again.”

Tyndarecus frowned. “What…what is that? Are you boys using sarcasm on your father?”

“No,” Castor said.

“We’d never do that,” Pollux said.

Seconds later, the queen arrived with the royal niece and her contingent of Spartan warriors.

“I can block out the sun with my monstrous phallus!” the fourth Spartan warrior shouted.”Ooorah!”

“Yes, yes,” the queen said. “We all know you are all super gay. No one cares.”

Penelope was a curvaceous young woman. Tight in the waist, splatow in the other place if you catch my drift.

“Mother!” Helen said as she hugged the queen.

“Oh Helen!” the queen said. “We were so frightened that you’d been done in by those crusty old fucks!”

Helen let go of her mother and embraced Penelope. “Sweet cousin!”

Penelope spoke in a monotone and had a demeanor similar to what you modern readers might refer to as “depressed brainy goth chick.”

“Whoo-pee,” Penelope said as she let her arms hang at her sides, refusing to return the hug. “Helen’s back, y’all. Let’s all drop what we’re doing and talk about this for three or four hours. Hooray.”

Audax squinted as he looked out across the  sea’s horizon. “My king!”

Tyndarecus looked up and joined his general in staring at a small blip that eventually turned into a ship.

“Is it a friend or foe?” the king asked.

“It…it bears the markings of a ship of Ithaca!” Audax proclaimed. “Surely it carries a friend.”

Castor and Pollux looked at each other.

“Oh come on,” the first brother said.

“It has to be…” the second brother replied.

Penelope flashed a rare smile. “Ithaca, you say?”

The royal family and the Mighty Spartan Army waited patiently until the ship reached the port.

A strapping young man with a full beard stepped out onto the deck and grinned.

“Whassup, beatches? Odysseus all up in Sparta’s ass! Woot woot!”

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Helen of Troy: History’s Hottest Chick – Chapter the Second

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Tyndarecus, King of Sparta, sat sullenly upon his throne, ensconced in a crippling bout of depression so severe that even his three most ample slave girls were unable to break him out of it.

“More grapes, your majesty?” the first slave girl asked.

The king did not respond.

“Perhaps some wine?” the second slave girl inquired.

Tyndarecus continued to wallow in his perpetual woe.

The third slave girl started to untie the string that held the top of her robe up when she was rudely interrupted by a pair of clapping hands.

“Begone, wenches,” commanded the most lovely and regal Queen Leda as she strutted through the chamber. “The king is in a state that only a queen can fix.”

The slave girls departed and Leda sat down upon Tyndarecus’s lap. She ran her hand over her husband’s face, tickling his beard.

“Why do you suffer so, my king?” the queen asked.

“’Tis Helen,” Tyndarecus answered. “Kidnapped once again under my watch and no doubt being forced to touch the super old wrinkly balls of Theseus and Peirithous as we speak.”

“Ugh,” Leda said. “Damn those crusty old fucks.”

“Tell me about it,” Tyndarecus said.

“You need not concern yourself,” Leda said. “Castor and Pollux have never failed you.”

“Indeed they have not,” Tyndarecus said. “Never has a father been blessed with a pair of twin sons as daring and brave as the Dioscuri. But I fear we ask too much of them, wife.”

“How so?”

“This week its the crusty old fucks,” Tyndarecus said. “Last week it was the Kraken. The week before that it was the minotaur. Leda, Helen is getting ridiculously hotter everyday and accordingly, no man or beast in all of Greece with a penis can control himself in her presence. If we continue to importune Castor and Pollux to save their sister every time she is kidnapped by a filthy degenerate pervert, they will never have lives of their own.  They’ll never find wives.  They’ll never have children.  They will simply spend all of their time fighting perverts.”

Leda sighed. “I admit I never thought about it that way.”

“That’s because you never think of anyone but yourself,” Tyndarecus said.

The queen stood up. “How dare you?!”

“How dare I?” Tyndarecus asked.

“My betrayal was so long ago, dear husband!” Leda shouted. “Surely by now I have earned your forgiveness!”

Tyndarecus took his wife’s hand. “So many nights I have laid awake begging myself to forgive you but alas…I don’t know if I will ever be able to.”

Leda stomped her foot on the marble floor. “It was Zeus! Fucking Zeus!”

The king stood up. He gritted his teeth and his face turned red. “In the form of a swan! How did you fuck a swan?”

“I don’t know!” Leda said. “I just did!”

“The logistics alone boggle my mind!” Tyndarecus cried.

“Why must you insist on dredging up the past?” Leda asked.

“How did you even find yourself attracted to a damn swan?” Tyndarecus asked.

“Because it was Zeus in the form of a swan!” Leda said. “My darling, shouldn’t a woman be allowed a pass if she is seduced into adultery through the allure of a god?”

“Absolutely not,” Tyndarecus said.

Leda folded her arms. “You’re going to stand there and tell me that if Aphrodite swooped down from Mount Olympus and begged you to go to town on her lady bits, you’d tell her no?”

The king shook his head. “If we’re talking about Aphrodite in all her super hot big goddess titties glory, then yes, I’d most certainly lose control. But if we’re talking Aphrodite in the form of a duck, then no dearest, I would abstain. I love you enough to avoid fucking a duck. Alas, you did not afford me the same loyalty when it came to a swan.”

“It was still Zeus!” Leda protested.

“Ahhh, fi on thee woman,” Tyndarecus said. “I shall hear no more excuses for your swan fuckery.”

The king eased his weary bones back into his throne and let out an “oof!” upon landing.

“Besides,” Tyndarecus said. “Your sordid infatuation with swan penis…”

“It was an infatuation with the greatest of all Gods!” Leda snapped.

“It does not matter,” Tyndarecus said. “All that matters now is that is that I have failed our children and failed them miserably.”

Leda returned to the king’s lap and gently stroked her hand through her husband’s hair. “Oh my love, you are not a failure. How could Castor and Pollux have become such gallant fighters were it not for the training you provided them?”

“A fine point,” the king said.

“And who kept Helen safe for so many years until your advanced age forced you to turn the burden over to the Dioscuri?” Leda asked.

“I did,” the Tyndarecus said. “But that is the point, my queen. Sooner or later, we all find ourselves dragged into the underworld. I can burden our sons no longer and yet, who will ensure our beloved Helen is safe when I die?”

Leda held Tyndarecus in her arms. “A most vexing question, but one you will surely answer. You are a noble man, Tyndarecus. Few men in your position would have found it in their hearts to raise Helen as their own.”

“She must never know that I am not her father,” Tyndarecus said. “You must never tell her.”

“I would never do such a thing,” Leda said. “And as far as I am concerned, you are her father, for that sleaze bag Zeus never once called, or wrote me a letter, or even offered to pick up a bill or two.”

“Fucking gods,” Tyndarecus said.

“Alas,” Leda said. “I fear the more Helen learns about science, the more likely it will be that she will do the math in her head and reach the conclusion that her astounding beauty could only be the result of an illicit union between a woman and the greatest of all gods in the form of a swan. That’s just science.”

Tyndarecus slammed his fist down on the arm rest of his throne. “Blasted science!”

“You can’t argue with science,” Leda said.

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Helen of Troy: History’s Hottest Chick – Chapter the First

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There has never been, nor will there ever be, a woman as beautiful as Helen.

I’m totally serious, you guys. One look at that foxy mama and it was all Boner City: Population You.

I’m talking an enchanting face that you could stare at for hours, eyes you could get lost in, long luxurious blonde hair you’d kill just to touch its sublime softness and those tittays? Don’t even get me started about the tittays. There were like two giant, perky chest rockets standing at attention.

No joke, I’m Homer, the Greatest Poet in all of Ancient Greece and it was all that even a scholar such as I could do to keep myself from dreaming about motor boating those puppies.

“Vrrooom vrrroooom ung nung nung nung nah!”

But I digress. Given Helen’s epic splooge inducing hotness, it was no surprise that those crusty old fucks Theseus and Peirithous, the kings of Athens and Larissa, respectively, kidnapped our beloved Helen and took her back to a dank, dark undisclosed lair.

“Come, Peirithous!” Theseus did say as he dropped his robe to the floor to reveal his oily hide. “Let us put our super wrinkly, disgustingly gray pubic hair infested nut sacks on full display!”

“Yes,” Peirithous did reply. “For we are very, very old and I do not know about you, my good friend Theseus, but I would surely enjoy having my way with the most beautiful woman in the world before I drop dead from a heart attack or ass cancer or some other bullshit disease that we are susceptible to for as you are no doubt aware, we are both ridiculously old!”

And so, Helen did cringe and cry and bemoan her fate as two lecherous, old, decrepit and dilapidated perverts closed in upon her. As they did so, both men held out their hands, opening and shutting them in the internationally understood “I want to honk some hooters” sign that men of poor moral character are known to engage in when approaching a woman with a copious bosom.

“Oh cruel fate!” Helen shouted. “Surely I am not doomed to be accosted by two crusty old fucks with super wrinkly balls, am I?”

At that precise moment, the business end of a sharp sword tore its way through Theseus’s belly, spritzing the lair with a thick douse of crimson red blood. A second blade made short work of Peirithous’s gut in similar fashion.

Both of the crusty old fucks fell to the floor, gyrating and convulsing. It was a horrific yet hilarious sight. If only video technology had been invented at the time. That shit would have gone viral on GreekTube.

The swords belonged to two young warriors, fair haired lads with chiseled jaws and rippling physiques.

“Brothers!” Helen said with glee as she hugged her rescuers.

“What treachery is this?” cried the crusty old fuck Theseus as his blood drained out into the dirt.

“Egads!” hollered the crusty old fuck Peirithous, “’Tis the Dioscuri! Castor and Pollux making with a cock block most foul!”

“Yes!” Theseus said. “Hast thou not heard of the ancient law known as, ‘bros before hoes?’”

“We have,” Castor said.

“But it pales in comparison to the law of ‘sisters before misters,’” Pollux added.

“Ha, ha!” Helen said. “Enjoy your most deserved deaths, crusty old fucks!”

“Uncool, Helen,” Castor said.

“Indeed,” Pollux said. “They’re already dying and…they’re dead. Yes. Its official. The crusty old fucks are dead.”

“And not a moment too soon,” Helen said. “Couldn’t you boys have saved me sooner? I was unacceptably close to having to touch their wrinkly balls.”

“We do have lives, Helen,” Castor said.

“Right,” Pollux said. “We do our best.”

“I know you do,” Helen said as she pecked each brother on the cheek. “Now come! We must return to father immediately! He shall be very worried I’m sure of it.”

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Helen of Troy: History’s Hottest Chick – Prologue

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The following is an e-mail exchange between Homer, Legendary Poet of Ancient Greece, and Bookshelf Q. Battler, Proprietor of a Website with 3.5 Readers

TO: BQB

FROM: Homer

RE: The Many Ways in Which Your Rewrite of My Work Doth Suck

Sir,

Let it be known that while I appreciate the lengths your diminutive friend, the odd looking short being your refer to as “Alien Jones,” took to restore me back to life, I must protest the absurd changes you made to the draft I submitted to you.

We agreed that I would write and deliver unto you a work regarding the life’s story of the most alluring Helen of Troy.

I held up my end of the bargain. Yet, you took my most eloquently selected words, hacked them to pieces, and replaced them with profanity, vulgarity, and worse, references to the so-called pop culture of your time that those from my time would nary understand.

You are a charlatan and I demand that you cancel the publication of this work entirely.

Regards and With Tremendous Disappointment,

Homer

TO: Homer

FROM: BQB

RE: Stop Being a Bee-yotch

Homie…bubie…baby…are you kidding me? You’re kidding me, right?

Look, you’ve been stone cold dead since before Jesus was born. I appreciate you are history’s most accomplished poet but with all due respect, no one wants to learn shit about the past anymore.

Readers want T, A, and TNT. Its all about the TANT, baby. Titties + Ass + Explosive Action = peeps buy the shit out of that and Jeff Bezos flies one of his funky ass drones to our houses to drop off a fat ass check, son.

Ya heard?

TO: BQB
FROM: Homer

RE: Fat Ass Check

Well, as long as its fat…

 

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