Tag Archives: the illiad

Top Ten Quotes From The Illiad by Homer


#10 – “We men are wretched things.”

#9 – “Sing, O muse, of the rage of Achilles, son of Peleus, that brought countless ills upon the Achaeans.”

#8 – “Why so much grief for me? No man will hurl me down to Death, against my fate. And fate? No one alive has ever escaped it, neither brave man nor coward, I tell you – it’s born with us the day that we are born.”

#7 – “No one can hurry me down to Hades before my time, but if a man’s hour is come, be he brave or be he coward, there is no escape for him when he has once been born.”

#6 – “Come, Friend, you too must die. Why moan about it so?
Even Patroclus died, a far, far better man than you.
And look, you see how handsome and powerful I am?
The son of a great man, the mother who gave me life–
A deathless goddess. But even for me, I tell you,
Death and the strong force of fate are waiting.
There will come a dawn or sunset or high noon
When a man will take my life in battle too–
flinging a spear perhaps
Or whipping a deadly arrow off his bow.”

#5 – “Ruin, eldest daughter of Zeus, she blinds us all, that fatal madness—she with those delicate feet of hers, never touching the earth, gliding over the heads of men to trap us all. She entangles one man, now another.”

#4 – “I say no wealth is worth my life! Not all they claim
was stored in the depths of Troy, that city built on riches,
in the old days of peace before the sons of Achaea came-
not all the gold held fast in the Archer’s rocky vaults,
in Phoebus Apollo’s house on Pytho’s sheer cliffs!
Cattle and fat sheep can all be had for the raiding,
tripods all for the trading, and tawny-headed stallions.
But a man’s life breath cannot come back again-
no raiders in force, no trading brings it back,
once it slips through a man’s clenched teeth.
Mother tells me,
the immortal goddess Thetis with her glistening feet,
that two fates bear me on to the day of death.
If I hold out here and I lay siege to Troy,
my journey home is gone, but my glory never dies.
If I voyage back to the fatherland I love,
my pride, my glory dies…
true, but the life that’s left me will be long,
the stroke of death will not come on me quickly.”

#3 – “And so their spirits soared
as they took positions own the passageways of battle
all night long, and the watchfires blazed among them.
Hundreds strong, as stars in the night sky glittering
round the moon’s brilliance blaze in all their glory
when the air falls to a sudden, windless calm…
all the lookout peaks stand out and the jutting cliffs
and the steep ravines and down from the high heavens bursts
the boundless bright air and all the stars shine clear
and the shepherd’s heart exults – so many fires burned
between the ships and the Xanthus’ whirling rapids
set by the men of Troy, bright against their walls.
A thousand fires were burning there on the plain
and beside each fire sat fifty fighting men
poised in the leaping blaze, and champing oats
and glistening barley, stationed by their chariots,
stallions waited for Dawn to mount her glowing throne.”

#2 – “Skepticism is as much the result of knowledge, as knowledge is of skepticism. To be content with what we at present know, is, for the most part, to shut our ears against conviction; since, from the very gradual character of our education, we must continually forget, and emancipate ourselves from, knowledge previously acquired; we must set aside old notions and embrace fresh ones; and, as we learn, we must be daily unlearning something which it has cost us no small labor and anxiety to acquire.”

#1 – “Let him submit to me! Only the god of death is so relentless, Death submits to no one—so mortals hate him most of all the gods. Let him bow down to me! I am the greater king, I am the elder-born, I claim—the greater man.”

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The Illiad Rebooted – Chapter 5

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!”

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The Illiad Rebooted – Chapter 2


Tyndareus, 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.

Tyndareus continued to wallow in his perpetual woe.

The third slave girl started to untie the string that held the top of her gown 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 Tyndareus’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,” Tyndareus 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,” Tyndareus said.

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

“Indeed they have not,” Tyndareus 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,” Tyndareus said.

The queen stood up. “How dare you?!”

“How dare I?” Tyndareus asked.

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

Tyndareus 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!” Tyndareus 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,” Tyndareus 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 refuse?”

The king shook his head. “If we’re talking about Aphrodite in all her super hot goddess glory with her ginormous goddess titties, 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. Call me crazy, but I believe we owe it to each other to avoid dalliances with water fowl.”

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

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

“It does not matter,” Tyndareus 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 Tyndareus 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 Tyndareus in her arms. “A most vexing question, but one you will surely answer. You are a noble man, Tyndareus. 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,” Tyndareus 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.”

Tyndareus 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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The Illiad Rebooted – First Meeting Transcript


The following is the transcript of the first production meeting held between Homer, legendary ancient poet of Greece, and Bookshelf Q. Battler, proprietor of a website with 3.5 readers.


Sir, 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 have made to my seminal work, The Illiad.

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.


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 this book and Jeff Bezos flies one of his funky ass drones over to drop off a fat ass check, son.


Well, as long as its fat…


You know it, Home Slice. Look, Hollywood’s already filmed all of the original ideas twice, even three or four times in some cases. Sequels and reboots are the name of the game now.


What is a reboot?


Its like a do-over. The Illiad is the same old bland tuna casserole people have been served for centuries now.  In order to sell people the same thing they’ve bought before, we need to add a little spice, a little razzle dazzle.


It’s the razzle dazzle that worries me.


Will you stop? Just go put your feet up, take a nap, use that sweet fifty dollar advance I gave you to score some babes and I’ll take care of the rest.


I have your word that additional profits will be forthcoming?


Of course. Fifty bucks a year from now on. You will be rolling in portraits of Ulysses S. Grant.


You are too kind sir. Fifty dollars continues to remain an exorbitant sum of money in your time?


It’ll get you fifty trips to the main stage at a nudey bar or approximately twenty-five candy bars, take your pick. That’s more than most writers get these days.

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The Illiad Rebooted – About the Authors/Project


About the Authors


Long before Cher, Sting, or Sia, there was Homer, the first artist to rock the “I only have one name” style. Scholars disagree on when exactly this accomplished scribe was born, but best guesses put his life somewhere between 800-700 B.C. (That’s eight hundred years before Christ and therefore a long ass time ago.)

Homer is the author of two bestsellers:

  • The Illiad – a chronicle of the siege of Troy, which began as a result of a dispute between Greek and Trojan forces over which one of their leaders had the best claim to the cooter belonging to the Grecian beauty Helen, first of Sparta and later of Troy, or simply “Helen of Troy” as she is typically remembered.
  • The Odyssey – the story of the warrior Odysseus’ adventure filled journey from Troy back to his home in Ithaca after the conclusion of the Trojan War.  During this voyage, Odysseus encounters nymphs, cannibals, and monsters until he finally arrives home and gruesomely murders all the dudes hanging around his house attempting to get all up in his wife’s lady business because they assume he was killed by Trojans and thus his wife’s snootch is up for grabs.

Nope. No lie here. That’s totally what this is about and your English teacher was a total perv for assigning it to you all those years ago. Then again, you would have known that if you had read it but you didn’t and FYI your parents were only being nice when they told you “a C minus is better than nothing, dear.” In truth, they were very, very disappointed in you and still are to this very day.

Bookshelf Q. Battler

Bookshelf Q. Battler (or BQB) was born in the late 1970s as God’s response to the terrible malaise that President Jimmy Carter warned was encompassing the nation.  Mr. Battler popped out of his mother’s womb, surprised hospital staff by shouting, “Cheer up, muttafuckas!” then never spoke another word until 1984 when he felt the need to praise the original Terminator film.

Though by all accounts, Mr. Battler was the dopest of all late 1970s babies, he didn’t fully shine until he became the proprietor of a blog with 3.5 readers in 2014.

If you would like to be one of Mr. Battler’s 3.5 readers, you are more than welcome to visit. BQB’s blog, “Bookshelf Battle” can be found at bookshelfbattle.com

There you will find a chronicle of Mr. Battler’s life and times as a world renowned poindexter, epic nerdventurer, reviewer of pop cultural happenings, champion yeti fighter and magic bookshelf caretaker.

Mr. Battler does not like to brag but he maintains that he is more accomplished than Homer. While Homer may have written two bestsellers that were drawing in readers long before Jesus was born, Mr. Battler’s blog does steadily attract the attention of 3.5 readers, which is no small feat in this day and age where every schmuck in the universe has their own blog. In fact, in the time it took you to read this one paragraph, an estimated 5,298 blogs were just started and most of them are terrible.

About this Project

Believing it to be “total bullshit” that Homer never saw dime one of the sweet, sticky cash produced by the thousands and thousands (possibly even millions) of high school and college English students who have been forced to purchase copies of The Illiad and pretend that they knew what the hell was going on during class over the years, Mr. Battler has taken it upon himself to reboot one of the most lauded books in Western history for fun and profit (mostly profit.)

To that end, Mr. Battler dispatched his trusty little green sidekick, Alien Jones, to locate Homer’s tomb and resurrect him using top secret, highly classified alien technology. An agreement with the U.S. government prevents Mr. Battler from publicly sharing the specifics of this technology, but rumor has it that it involves ground cumin, a swizzle stick that can be found at any reputable coffee shop, and 9,000,000 AA batteries held together with duct tape, super glue, and most importantly, love.

Initially, Homer had some difficulty adjusting to the modern world. However, due to his scholarly nature, he was quickly able to learn and adapt, though duck face selfies, social media posts about what people eat for lunch and the continued existence of Kristen Stewart’s acting career baffle him to no end.

Mr. Battler and Homer met regularly throughout late 2016 into early 2017 to reboot Homer’s Illiad. Homer was reluctant at first, but once Mr. Battler plopped down a fifty dollar signing bonus, Homer wasn’t able to refuse.

Oh and FYI if you happen to see Homer walking down the strip, you need to do Mr. Battler a solid and pretend like fifty bucks is an astounding, life altering amount of money.

Mr. Battler thanks you in advance.

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The Illiad Rebooted Challenge


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.


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


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.


“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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