Tag Archives: greece

The Illiad Rebooted – Chapter 11

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And so, Tyndareus sent his finest messengers to spread word all throughout Greece that his daughter, the voluptuous and vivacious Helen of Sparta, inspirer of boners the world over, was available for marriage and all interested suitors must make their way to the king’s palace in order to plead their case.

After a few weeks, the old king, his sons, and his smooth talking houseguest found themselves standing on the steps of the palace, looking out at a sea of eligible bachelors that stretched out for miles.

“Perhaps we should put a cap on this,” Castor said.

“Only the first one thousand suitors to get to through the door will be considered?” Pollux asked.

“Gods no,” Castor said. “That would turn into a bloodbath quick.”

“Great Zeus’s beard, Odysseus,” Tyndareus said. “I couldn’t possibly interview all of these perverts.”

Odysseus observed the crowd. Sure, there were plenty of kings, princes, warriors and other men of noble stock or great accomplishment, and of course, they’d all brought their own contingents of servants and underlings with them.

A man decked out in a velvety red robe shouted over everyone around him.

“Pick me, King Tyndareus, for I am Amphimachus, the greatest mac daddy in all of Greece!”

Amphimachus snapped his fingers and his servant held up an open chest filled with gold coins.

“I bring you riches to compliment your wisdom, good king, and there’s more where that came from!”

The Daddy of All Greek Macs was about to continue his plea when he was cut off by a man in a clean, white toga.

“Nay, my king! Select me, Polyxenus the Proud, and I shall deliver unto you a hundred fertile brood mares to supply the mighty Spartan army with as many horses as they need.”

“Shit,” Castor said. “Gold and horses.”

“We might get rich off this,” Pollux said.

Tyndareus grew tired of the spectacle and stared at Odysseus with exhausted eyes. “Do something.”

Odysseus nodded then raised his hands up in the air. “Hey!”

No one was paying attention. Everyone was too busy shouting their bribes offered in exchange for the right to acquire Helen’s splendiferous vag.

“A thousand goats!”

“Fuck those goats! I’ll give you all the sapphires you can carry!”

“Fuck those goats and those sapphires! I’ll give you your own island!”

Odysseus stuck his pointer into the right side of his mouth and his middle finger into the left. This allowed him to make an ear splitting whistle.

“Yo!” the adventurer said. “Shut your suck holes, ass bags! This is a classy affair!”

The sea of suitors calmed down and paid the speaker their full, rapt attention.

“That’s better,” Odysseus said. “Alright, check it. Thank you all for turning out to court Helen of Sparta, the most beautiful princess in all the world.”

And that ended the calm. Cat calls. Whistles. Hooting. Hollering.

“Shut it!” Odysseus barked.

The crowd was silent again.

“Now, we’ve got some rules here,” Odysseus said. “First of all, everyone needs to chill the fuck out and stop acting like a bunch of animals. You’re trying to impress the King of Sparta, idiots, so behave yourselves and stop tossing your bribes out willy nilly as if Tyndareus is some type of common reprobate.”

Tyndareus leaned over to whisper into Odysseus’s ear. “I mean, I’m not totally against it if they’re offering…”

Odysseus nodded. “Instead, be gentlemen about it and slip the king your bribes when no one is looking. Really, people, this is all common sense.”

The adventurer strutted about the steps as he selected his words. “On that note, if you are a broke ass loser, a pathetic weakling, or a man who has accomplished nothing of import in his life, begone!”

The rabble grew restless as angry words were thrown Odysseus’s way.

“Oh get off it,” Odysseus said. “I’m not saying that Helen is a gold digging freak, but she ain’t messin’ with no broke ass Greeks, ya feel me? If you can’t take care of yourself, then you surely cannot take care of the most beautiful woman in the world.”

An old man with three teeth in his mouth hobbled up on his cane. “I agree! Kick out all these peasants and pick me, Hercules!”

A look of befuddlement came over Odysseus’s face. He squinted at the old man. “You’re not Hercules!”

“Yes I am!” the old man said as he flexed his arm and made the teeniest, tiniest muscle.

“You’re Hercules?” Odysseus asked.

“I sure am,” the old man said.

“The legendary warrior favored by the gods?” Odysseus asked.

“You know it, bitch,” the old man answered.

“The strongest man in all of Greece?” Odysseus asked.

“Damn skippy, son,” the old man said. “Now make with the poon already.”

Castor looked at the old man. “Impostor! This is not Hercules!”

Pollux also looked at the old man. “This is Lycus the Lecher, the most delinquent louse in all of Sparta!”

“And a pauper,” Castor said.

“Bah!” the old man said. “Eat a dick, Dioscuri!”

“OK the jig’s up you old bastard,” Odysseus said. “Take a hike.”

“I’m going, I’m going,” the old man said as he hobbled away. “Shit. Old ass man tries to get himself some magic cooch and y’all gotta make a federal case about it, bunch of wack ass punk ass trick ass marks.”

“And that goes for the rest of you,” Odysseus said. “If you’ve got no dough, then it is time to go!”

The ranks thinned as the penniless departed. Still, it was not enough.

“Next,” Odysseus said. “If you are a damn cyclops, a minotaur, or a monster of any kind, get to steppin’ because Helen don’t do no beasts, ya’ dig?”

Lagos, King of the Cyclopses, happened to be in attendance with five hundred of his one-eyed warriors.

“Bullshit, Odysseus!” Lagos said. “The cyclopses were here long before humans and we will be here long after your bones turn to dust!”

“Oh spare me the drama, Lagos,” Odysseus said. “Time for you and your one-eye to go bye-bye.”

Lagos beat his chest with his fist. “This is an outrage! I dragged out my one-eyed warriors, polished their helmets, and even made them stand at attention!”

Castor, Pollux, and Odysseus turned red face as they stifled their laughter.

“I’m sorry,” Odysseus said. “What did you say?”

“I said that I dragged out my one-eyed warriors and polished their helmets and…what? Why are you laughing?!”

Odysseus was doubled over. “Your…your…one-eyed warriors…look very stiff…and rigid! Bah ha ha!”

“Oh, damn you humans!” Lagos said as he turned his back and marched away. “One-eyed warriors, retreat!”

A loud hissing sound reverberated through everyone’s ears. The crowd separated to allow a gigantic beast through. It was well over ten feet tall, had the body of a long, slimy, snake, but instead of one reptilian head, it had nine.

“Hisssss,” the first head said.

“Fuck you and your no beast proclamation,” the second head said.

“We will have Helen’s glorious snapper!” the third head declared.

“Oh shut all of your stupid mouths, Hydra!” Odysseus said.

“No!” the fourth head said. “YOU shut YOUR mouth, dick cheese!”

Odysseus thumped his chest. “Why don’t you make me?”

“Hisssss,” the fifth head said. “Don’t think that we won’t!”

“Honestly Hydra,” Odysseus said. “What is this? A mid-millennium crisis?”

“What are you talking about?” the sixth head asked.

“We are confident as ever!” the seventh head cried.

“Are you now?” Odysseus asked. “Because it seems to me if you guys could still get it up, you’d be back in your cave going to town on a foxy ass she-hydra.”

“Hisssss,” the eighth head said. “We are the last hydra!”

“Yeah,” the ninth head said. “Way to open up old wounds, you insensitive prick!”

“Well,” Odysseus said. “Maybe if you’d been taking care of business your species wouldn’t be nearly extinct now and you’d be knee deep in hydra snatch, wouldn’t you?”

All nine heads hanged low as they started to cry.

The first head sniffed. “You’re…you’re right.”

“We didn’t believe in ourselves!” the second head said.

“We didn’t make the she-hydras happy!” the third head said.

“And now we are doomed to jerk off in our cave until the end of days!” the fourth head said.

“Yeesh,” Odysseus said. “Well, good luck with that.”

The heads lifted up.

“Give us the woman!” the fifth head said.

“Or meet your doom!” the sixth head said.

Odysseus drew his sword, threw himself into the crowd and lopped off the first hydra head before making a perfect landing.

The crowd looked on in amazement. The remaining hydra hands cried out in pain, then smiled and laughed as another head grew in the first head’s place.

The seventh head looked at the adventurer. “Cut off one of our heads…”

“…and another will grow in its place,” the eighth head said.

The ninth head looked glum as it stared down at the dead head lying on the ground.

“Yeah…but…I kind of fancied Steve.”

“Right, right,” the second head said. “Steve was a right friendly old bloke.”

“Who knows what this new dingus will be like?” the third head asked.

The new head, or rather, the replacement first head, look at his compatriots.

“Hey guys,” the new head said. “Want to go get some gluten free, non-dairy soy milk lattes and artisanal vegan scones?”

“Aww fuck me in the hydra ass,” the fourth head said.

“A bloody hipster!” the fifth head said.

“Damn you, Odysseus!” the sixth head griped. “You’ve saddled us with a lousy hipster!”

“I didn’t saddle you with a hipster,” Odysseus said. “You dipshits saddled yourselves with a hipster when you refused to leave.”

“Come on, guys,” the new head said. “Let’s go see a play. I bet I’ve already read the scroll its based on so I’ll whisper to you all throughout the performance how the scroll is so much better and how much smarter I am than all of you because I read the scroll and you all didn’t.”

“Ugh!” the seventh head said. “Do us a solid and cut him off, Odysseus!”

“Yes,” the eighth head said. “Maybe the next head will not be such an unmitigated chode gargler.”

“Well,” Odysseus said as he raised his sword. “If you insist…”

“Stop!” the ninth head said.

Odysseus backed off.

“What are you doing?” the second head asked.

“We cannot allow our heads to be chopped off simply because we don’t like one of them,” the ninth head said. “He is ours till he is lost in battle. ’Tis the hydra way.”

“Bollocks!” the third hydra said.

“He’s insufferable,” the fourth hydra said.

“Maybe he won’t be so bad once we get to know him,” the fifth hydra head said.

“Check your hydra privilege, bros,” the new head said. “These micro-aggressions are really triggering my anxiety and making me feel like I need to retreat into my safe space.”

Eight of of nine heads winced.

“Lets just go,” the fifth head said.

“Yeah,” the sixth head said. “Before we lose another head and it gets replaced with something even worse than a hipster.”

The hydra shifted its massive weight around and slithered away from the palace.

“What could be worse than a hipster?” the seventh head asked.

“I don’t know,” the eighth head said. “Door-to-door salesman trying to sell us shit that we’d just pay for with our own money?”

“Seems counterproductive,” the ninth head said.

“And he’d always try to sell us shit during dinner too I bet,” the second head said.

“Hey guys,” the new head said. “I think I’m going to grow a dirt beard and get a fedora.”

The other heads groaned.

“Shut up, new guy!” the third head said.

“Yeah!” the fourth head added. “Shut your gob!”

“Maybe I’ll get a tattoo of a Chinese symbol,” the new head said. “Something like ‘faith’ or ‘believe’ you know? People will see it and think I’m deep.”

“Oh gods,” the fifth head said. “Someone cut my head off so I don’t have to listen to this drivel any longer!”

Odysseus waited a minute for the hydra to slither away then continued his spiel.

“Right, now that all the monsters are gone…”

The adventurer spotted a nine-foot tall hulking figure wearing a cloak that was pulled down over its face.

“Hey…you there!”

“Raargh?” the figure asked.

“Yes, rarrgh!” Odysseus said. “Who are you?”

The figure shook its head and looked down. “Blarga raargh.”

Odysseus walked right up to the figure, leaned up his tippy toes and yanked its hood off to reveal noneother than the bullish head of the minotaur himself.

“Raaarga raarga rahhhh!”

“Don’t you ‘raarga raarrga rahh me, minotaur!” Odysseus said as he wagged his finger at the beast’s gold ring pierced snout.

“Arrgh flargha jaarga jaarga barrga barrga pppbbbhhht!”

“What?” Odysseus asked incredulously.

“Arrga slarga!” the minotaur shouted.

“That’s preposterous,” Odysseus said. “You don’t even know my mother.

The Dioscuri joined their friend.

“I knew it was a mistake letting you live, minotaur!” Castor said.

“Yes,” Pollux said. “Go back to your maze at once!”

The minotaur stomped his hoof. “Errgsa florgas!”

Odysseus gasped. “Minotaur! You kiss your mother with that mouth?”

The half-man/half-bull trudged away, defeated.

“Yeah!” Castor shouted.

“You better walk away!” Pollux added.

Without turning around, the minotaur flipped the Dioscuri the bird then continued to trudge off.

“Right then,” Odysseus said. “Now that the riffraff is gone, let’s get down to business.”

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The Illiad Rebooted – Chapter 7

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Tyndareus cradled his aching head in his hands as his sons and their buddy loudly and obnoxiously voiced their dismay.

“Agamemnon and Menelaus are the biggest butt holes in Greece!” Castor shouted.

Odysseus stared at a hangnail. Soon, he found it so annoying that he nibbled it away.

“Can’t get on board with shipping Helen off to the butt hole brothers, Pops,” Odysseus said between nibbles.

“They are cruel,” Castor said.

“Vile,” Pollux added.

“Ill-tempered,” Castor said.

“Ill-mannered,” Pollux added.

“Lustful of power,” Castor said.

“Lustful of anything else,” Pollux said.

“The two biggest dingleberries to ever wiggle their way out of Hades’s turd hatch,” Odysseus said as he finally managed to bite the hangnail clean off.

“They can’t be trusted,” Castor said.

“Exactly,” Pollux said. “A pair of ruthless backstabbers.”

“Can we reopen the Ajax discussion?” Odysseus asked. “Even if the guy doesn’t have a great big jumbo wang, he’s still a pretty loyal hombre. It’ll be like giving Helen her own gigantic puppy dog.”

“Anyone would be better than Menelaus,” Castor said.

“Literally anyone,” Pollux added. “Anyone at…”

The king looked up and banged his fist down on the table so hard that it knocked everyone’s wine glasses over, spilling the delicious fermented grapey goodness everywhere.

“Enough!”

The trio of young men were aghast. They’d never seen the kind hearted old king angry before.

The king sighed and sat back down. The tone of his voice returned to normal.

“Don’t you three think I have agonized over all of this?” the king asked. “The situation remains that Agamemnon, through violence and guile, has consolidated twelve of the most powerful nations in Greece into the Achaean League. The kings of these lands bow to him. Their warriors fight for him.”

“Oh whatever,” Odysseus said. “Tell Agamemnon he suck my big ole Greek…”

The king interrupted his guest. “I already denied Agamemnon once when he requested Helen’s hand. To deny his brother would be just the excuse he needs to declare war on Sparta.”

“Let him try it,” Castor said.

“The mighty Spartan army is oiled and waiting,” Pollux added.

“Guys,” Odysseus chimed in. “Did you all not hear me? Ajax the Great allegedly has a great big jumbo wang. I say we invite him to court and demand that he drop his drawers so we can put this mystery to rest once and for all.”

“Be serious for once, Odysseus,” Tyndareus said.

“I’ll be serious when you say something that deserves a serious response,” Odysseus said.

The king sneered. “What did you just say?”

Odysseus threw his arms out. “Well, what did you expect us to think about this idea? You know we hate those two jerk holes.”

“When we were young, they used to run around the palace strangling rats and torturing small animals,” Castor said.

“Sick, twisted shit,” Pollux added.

“Yes,” Tyndareus said. “The lads of Mycenae did indeed have an unpleasant childhood.”

“Unpleasant?” Castor asked.

“Their father killed their cousins to get back at their uncle for banging his wife,” Pollux said.

Odysseus snickered. “Then, as if that weren’t enough, their father cooked up his nephews and tricked his brother into eating his own children. Classic Atreus.”

“Indeed,” Tyndareus said. “And when Thystes discovered what was in his supper and slew Atreus, I took in Agamemnon and Menelaus until they were of age and able to return to Mycenae, murder their uncle and take back the throne.”

“Those two dip shits owe you big time,” Odysseus said. “If anything, you should be making demands of them.”

“Agreed,” Tyndareus said. “And yet my heart calls on me to pity them, for surely having your uncle bone your mother, then having your father murder your cousins and feed them under false pretenses to your uncle only for your uncle to then turn around and murder your father is not only a very complicated tragedy to experience, but one that would no doubt turn the best of us into a heartless beast.”

Odysseus sighed. “It is no wonder that Agamemnon’s thirst for power can never be satiated.”

“It truly can’t be,” Tyndareus said. “Agamemnon is now stuck on a course where he will continue to seek a limitless amount of territory as salve for his childhood wounds.”

Odysseus picked up his goblet and poured fresh wine into it.

“Someone really needs to give ole Aggie a hug and tell him to just cry it out because no amount of land will ever help him get over the fact that his uncle fucked his mother and then his father killed his cousins and fed them to his uncle and then his uncle retaliated by killing his father.”

“If only they made a greeting card for that,” Tyndareus said.

“Father,” Castor said. “You might recall that when Agamemnon took our sister Clytemnestra as his wife in Helen’s stead, he agreed that there would always be peace between Mycenae and Sparta.”

“He did,” Tyndareus said. “But that was before he established the Achaean League. Now his power knows no bounds. Will he personally feel offended if Menelaus is snubbed? No. But Agamemnon is crafty. He bides his time, looks for the perfect excuse for war and when it presents itself, he strikes with cunning precision and furious vengeance.”

“What an asshole,” Odysseus said.

The Dioscuri looked downtrodden.

“Father,” Castor said. “It feels as if…

Pollux interrupted his brother. “It feels as if Castor and I have spent our entire adult lives saving Helen from danger only for you to deliver her into danger.”

A tear trickled out of Castor’s eye. He lost control and hugged his brother.

“Oh Pollux! Finally, you have added something useful to the conversation!”

The king nodded. “I know selecting a husband for the most beautiful woman in the world is a horrible task, but I see no other way. By marrying Helen off to Menelaus I can die knowing that Helen will never again be kidnapped as no one would dare cross Agamemnon and…”

The king reached across the table and took Castor’s hand. “…I can rest assured that you, Castor, will be able to preside over Sparta as king, leading our country in a time of peace and prosperity thanks to a renewed truce with Agamemnon.”

Castor’s heart skipped a beat. “Oh father…I…I….”

Tyndareus stretched his other hand out and took Pollux’s hand. “I am sorry, son.”

“Quite alright,” Pollux said.

“We never were sure which one of us came first,” Castor said.

“’Twas definitely Castor,” Tyndareus said. “Popped out of your mother’s womb like a greased goose ready to take the world by storm.”

Castor blinked his eyes, trying desperately to curb his tears of joy.

“And Pollux,” the king said. “Know that when your brother serves as king, you shall be…”

“Oh my gods,” Pollux said as a grin took over his face.

“Champion of Sparta!” Tyndareus said.

Pollux hyperventilated. “Oh my gods! Oh my gods! I’m so happy!”

Father and sons jumped to their feet and embraced.

Meanwhile, Odysseus guzzled a gulp of wine, then interrupted the three-way hug with an obnoxious belch.

“I hate to break up this family schmaltz-fest, but this plan will not bring about peace.”

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The Illiad Rebooted – Chapter 1

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

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 those 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 all day long.

“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!”

“Fi on thee, Dioscuri!” 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 laughed as she looked down upon the geezers. “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 now.”

“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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The Illiad Rebooted Challenge

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Hello 3.5 readers.

Thank you, as always, for reading.

Without you, I would just be an asshole typing out random garbage into the inter webs for no apparent reason.

THE PREMISE:

Alien Jones has used undisclosed alien technology to revive Homer, the legendary poet of ancient Greece and author of The Illiad, that boring as shit book that your college English professor probably made you read.

Homer and I are collaborating on an Illiad reboot.  That’s right. Hollywood has refused to produce anything original for years now, so why can’t Home Slice and I cash in on this trend?

THE CHALLENGE:

The Illiad will be rebooted by January 1, 2016!

So sit back, relax and enjoy as Homer and I bring you, The Illiad Rebooted.

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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 Fourth

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“Will you look at this?” Odysseus said as he walked towards the royal family. “The most powerful people in Sparta all lined up to greet me and….ughhh!”

The traveler went crosseyed and orgasmed upon spotting Helen.

“Helen!” Odysseus said as he averted his eyes. “You’re looking even more fly than when I last saw you but jeez, Louise! By the spear of Ares, someone put a bell on this babe before I waste more seed.”

“Oh Odysseus,” Helen said as she hugged the traveler. “You haven’t lost your quick wit.”

“Ack!” Odysseus yelled as he went crosseyed again and doubled over. “Are you trying to kill me, woman? I…I…and…nope…I’m empty. Its nothing but cobwebs and sadness coming out down there until I reload. Dioscuri!”

Castor and Pollux embraced their good friend.

“Oh the shit we got into back in the day,” Odysseus said. “What in the underworld have you two ding dongs been up to?”

“Rescuing Helen from perverts,” Castor said.

“Crusty old fucks, most recently,” Pollux added.

“Yeesh,” Odysseus said. “That sounds like a grind.”

The traveler playfully pretended to shadowbox the king. “Old Man Tyndarecus!”

“Odysseus,” the king said as he embraced the young man. “You grace us with your presence.”

“Oh stop it you old softy,” Odysseus said. The traveler clutched his chest as he looked at the queen.

“Well poke my eye out and call me a cyclops!” Odysseus said. “Tyndarecus, you didn’t tell me you had such a young and attractive sister.”

Leda smirked and hugged the visitor. “You know very well who I am, young man.”

“How could forget the sexiest MILF in the Mediterranean?” Odysseus asked.

“You’re looking well, Odysseus,” the queen said. “How is your father?.”

“Ugh!” Odysseus said. “Don’t get me started! He depends on me more and more these days. And I get it. I’m a dashing prince. Accomplished adventurer. Skilled sailor. Renowned explorer. Legendary monster slayer. Highly trained soldier. All this shit on my resume while I’m still in my early twenties and you’d think these experiences would have prepared me to become Ithaca’s greatest champion but I’m telling you, its a real drag.”

“Your father chose his champion well, Odysseus,” Tyndarecus said.

“Yes he did, if I do say so myself,” Odysseus replied. “But check it. I have gots to gets me some R and R, some Z’s, a little ‘me’ time if you please, you dig?”

“I’m not sure I follow,” Tyndarecus said.

“I have been championing the shit out of Ithaca for a couple years now and I am spent,” Odysseus said. “So much so that I started longing for the summers I spent here in Sparta on vacation with my good friends, the Dioscuri and decided to seek a few weeks’ refuge with you fine folks, my veritable second family.”

“You’re more than welcome to stay,” the queen said.

“You sure you don’t mind?” Odysseus asked. “I’m not asking for much. Just a little food to gnosh, a bed to crash on, maybe take the boys off your hands for a night or two of drunken debauchery when they aren’t busy rescuing Helen Hotpants over there.”

“Odysseus,” Helen said. “You’re positively terrible!”

“Whoa, whoa!” Odysseus said as he turned his head away from Helen. “That’s enough of that! You’re going to turn me into a walking prune, girl!”

“We are glad to have you,” Tyndarecus said. “In fact, a rather sensitive matter has come up that I must speak to my sons about and I would appreciate your wise counsel.”

“No problem, Pops,” Odysseus said. “What, are the Dioscuri playing with themselves too much? I told you guys that would turn you insane!”

“Oh, like you’ve never done it,” Castor said.

The royal family dispersed and Odysseus found himself face to face with Penelope. The traveler’s mood went from playful to somber.

“Penny,” Odysseus said.

“Odysseus,” Penelope said as she rested her hands on her hips and tapped her foot.

“Damn girl,” Odysseus said. “You’re really filling out that toga these days.”

Wack! Penelope’s dainty hand left a red mark on Odysseus’s cheek.

“What’d I do?” the traveler asked.

“The next time you tell a girl you love her, send her a scroll once in awhile.”

Penelope stormed off as Odysseus gave chase.

“Aww come on, baby,” Odysseus said. “Don’t do me like that! Damn girl, I hate to see you go, but I love to watch you leave.”

“Shut up!” Penelope said.

“You could build an acropolis on that thing!” Odysseus remarked.

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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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