"I'm delighted, my boy, that your chores are almost completed.
Delighted!" Zeus didn't look delighted. Rather, he seemed put
out. Jolly voice and all, but that scowl!
"Now, this next task. Represents a logistic problem, really.
Time consuming, rather than difficult. Your qualifications are
such that you'll have little trouble, I'm sure." Zeus smiled, as
though at some secret humorous thought.
"I'm into some real estate deals. Brought a few places down on
earth. Boy, was I taken on this one. Oh, was I taken. Shysters
and developers! I must visit Pluto one day and see if he has
room for any more. They are overrunning his place, I'm afraid."
For a moment Zeus fell silent. His thoughts were evidently on
his brother's domain, and the shysters and developers dwelling
therein. A bright smile lit his face.
"To the matter at hand. I brought this ranch. Excellent
property, very reasonable price. Closed escrow and all that.
Then I thought to look inside the stables. Gad!"
"Poor suffering creatures. Horses, excellent horses.
Unfortunately, locked in those stables for eons. Eons and eons.
Maybe longer. To summarize, the place was not entirely sanitary.
Now be off with you and get it cleaned up." He guffawed rather
loudly.
"Oh, here. This may help." Zeus handed Demo a broom, a mop, and
a clothespin. "For the nose, you understand."
Demo arrived unceremoniously at the stable doors. He was
greeted by the local population, consisting of many and varied
forms of flies. Black flies, white flies, colorless flies - all
eager to make his acquaintance.
Shooing them away he slowly opened the stable doors, quickly
closed them.
Impossible! No mortal could possibly clean up this mess. Still
hadn't a hero, long ago, faced a similar problem?
Yes, yes indeed. And he had solved it. Solved it by merely
changing the course of a stream. Simple enough. Now where might
he find a stream.
There was one, and at not too great a distance.
Well, it is only a creek. Nevertheless, it's all I have. So
let's give it a try.
He worked diligently, opening a channel to the very door of the
huge barn. As night drew near he began to dam the creek, forcing
its waters to divert to his newly dug channel.
The youthful civil engineer smiled.
The water was beginning to flow. Quickly he hurried to the
stable, dared the flies, and threw wide the doors at both ends
of the edifice. Fortunately he wore the clothespin.
The water was moving ever closer. The chore was indeed a simple
one.
He looked up, and frowned.
The sky had darkened, and even now huge raindrops began to
fall. The mild creek was rising higher and higher. The dam,
built to withstand that creek, was faced with an ever deepening,
ever angrier river.
The water reached the top of the dam, flowed now heavily
through the channel, washed at the very entrance to the stables.
Suddenly the dam began to move, at first slowly. A crack
appeared in the middle. It widened.
Water began to seep through the crack.
Water began to pour through the crack.
The crack was gone!
The dam was gone!
Demo sat down, stared in disbelief.
In moments his hours of work destroyed! The rock, the mud, the
good green sod - all gone.
And the stable, fly infested, standing as before.
Even as he looked a swarm of flies rose, moved in his
direction.
Quickly he retreated.
This required rethinking! Not so simple a chore as he had
thought!
Back to Olympus! I must talk to Zeus! No way!
He arrived at Olympus. Zeus was absent. "He is on a . . .," his
gardener smiled, ". . . on a hunting trip." He winked.
Suddenly a loud screech disturbed their ears.
"Oh, dear!" The gardener wrung his hands. "That's Hera! The
flowers are growing so poorly. I've spent hours tending them.
But they will not grow in this kind of soil. I've told Zeus a
thousand times. Olympus is just too pure!"
Hera entered.
"I will not have my flowers drooping, my bushes wilting! I may
well have my gardener in that condition if he tends not to my
garden!"
The gardener cringed.
"What are you doing here. Did not Zeus send you out on another
of his ridiculous chores. Begone, then, for I am not fit company
today!" She stomped back to her patio, giving one last angry
look at the gardener.
Demo frowned. "Well, I wish I could help. Anyway, I'm not much
of a gardener. I know we use fertilizer on our plants. Mostly we
use . . . ." He paused. A thought had entered his mind.
"Sir, perhaps this is your lucky day!"
"This boy, eh, the one who sold you the fertilizer for the
vinyard and for Hera's garden," Zeus paused, a slight frown on
his face. The clouds above Olympus darkened, and a low rumble of
thunder sounded in the distance. "This boy wasn't too smart, you
say?"
"Oh, no! Smart? Ha!"
"At first he wanted ambrosia, wine, women - for fertilizer!
Ridiculous! He talked! And talked. The more he talked the less
he decided to charge. We waited quietly." The gardener smiled.
"His charges dropped?"
"His charges dropped!"
"Still we waited! Aha! Finally he agreed that it was all ours,
if we would give him just one bottle of wine and agree to move
everything within 3 days! Oh, he was a cute rascal! We just
outwitted him. Yes, eventually, he came our way. Merely a matter
of waiting." The gardener's smile broadened.
"Yes," Zeus mused. "A cute rascal, indeed!"
"So, this callow youth, this dunce from the barnyards,
practically gave away his, eh, merchandise?"
"And did you, eh, move all this fertilizer? Within 3 days?"
"Oh, yes, sire. Indeed we did. We didn't want to give him the
chance of changing his mind. I had to call on all the Gods -
save yourself, Sire - to get the job done. Such dedication. Even
Hera carried her share. Lovely wife, Sire, lovely!"
The gardener smiled. Zeus nodded somewhat glumly.
"And we gave him 5 bottles of wine to insure he gave no further
thought to the fertilizer or the stables."
"What! What is this! Stables! Did you say Stables!" Zeus brow
was dark, and the clouds above Olympus now roiled and flashes of
lighting lit the dour sky.
"Why, yes, sire. It seems that, through negligence, the stables
had not been cleaned in - well, in a long time. One might say
they were a bit ripe."
"And the horses! Poor things! They were indeed in need of
washing and curry-combing."
"But, to the matter at hand. Yes, stables they were. And full
to the brim with excellent fertilizer. Oh, such gardens as we
shall have this spring! I'm sure you will be well pleased."
Zeus sniffed the air. Zeus seemed to be not well pleased. He
was muttering to himself.
"Callow youth? Stables? Fertilizer? I will have his head . . .!
Buying it from him with my own goods! Inconceivable!"
"Had all the Gods and Goddesses hard at work. That's something
I've never accomplished. Ah, perhaps he might fit in well at
Olympus!"
Dionysius sat quietly in the prow of the boat. The ferryman was
silent, merely guided the craft on its way. The craft moved of
its own volition.
"How come I here? Who are you? And what is this body of water
on which we float?"
The ferryman stared at him in steely silence.
Dionysius glanced around, studied the ferryman, the boat, the
dark liquid on which they floated.
"I was condemned, and the execution was for tomorrow. I had
venison for supper - stupid cook burned it badly, gravy was
tasteless. Then I slept. Someone roused me and we went to the
execution chamber. They readied me for the blade. I remember
cursing them soundly, one and all. I was bound and the
executioner made ready. Did I faint? Did you rescue me, or was
it another? What pay do you expect for this service? I am a poor
man, so don't expect too much!"
Although the air was dark and gloomy Dionysius was beginning to
feel cheerful.
"However it was done, I am thankful. And you shall all be
rewarded. Before I stabbed the old priest I learned from him the
location of the temple's treasure. I saw it with my own eyes.
Jewels, money, golden goblets and silver. Yes, indeed, you shall
be rewarded."
He smiled.
He sniffed the air.
"The sewers must lead into this stream, the smell of burning
sulfur irritates my eyes. How much farther until we reach shore?
There is a strangely unpleasant odor about this place. I like it
not. Will you speak, or shall I toss you into this filthy
stream!"
He rose, stepped toward the silent figure.
Suddenly he stopped.
The ferryman neither shrank from his approach, nor responded.
His face was hidden by the hood he wore. Yet his eyes shone from
beneath that hood.
The look from those eyes froze Dionysius in midstep.
"No! No! It is a bedtime story to frighten children. What are
you telling me . . . ."
His gaze shifted from stream to boat, from boat to ferryman,
from ferryman to stream.
"It is a fairy tale, nothing else. Take me to the shore!" His
voice was once more threatening.
Suddenly he sat down, held his head between his two hands,
sobbed quietly.
"It's true, isn't it? This river - Styx is its name. You are
the ferryman. This gloom is not the dark of night. It's all
true!"
Suddenly a thought came to mind.
"Then you are . . . You are Charon. And I must have - yes, here
it is. Your toll. Take me then to the Elysian Fields. Quickly,
take me away from this dreadful place."
He extended Charon's toll.
The figure made no move to accept.
Rather, a deep and melancholy voice responded. "Your stop is
not the Elysian shore."
Dionysius gazed at the dark figure, at the coin. Reluctantly he
let the coin fall, watched it disappear into the depths of the
murky water.
He was silent.
What more was there to say!