Resonant Constellation

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BOOK I, UPDATE I

Holy shit, Achilles is pissed.
And not just pissed like when your favorite tv show was cancelled this week for the 24-hour showing of the special olympics wheelchair basketball highlights from 1973, but seriously pissed. At least 50,000 times as much, probably more. If he was in a band, he would smash his lyre across the head of his bassist a thousand times until it was rendered into tiny splinters. Sadly, they didn’t have bassists back then, so he was just pissed. It all started when he got into an argument with Agamemnon (imagine flashback effects here).

And whose fault was it? It was Apollo, that asshole. And it was for some minor little thing, something about a kidnapped daughter of a priest-a not uncommon occurrence back in the day. So all because of this tiny little abduction kerfuffle, Apollo gave all of the Greeks severe food poisoning, then sent this priest dude to get his daughter back from the Greeks. When the priest found the Greeks, he spoke eloquently for his daughter’s return.

“Dudes, I don’t give a shit if you destroy Troy; in fact, I wish you luck. Just give my daughter back. Hell, I’ll even pay a ransom.”

Generally, the Greeks thought this was a pretty solid idea, but Agamemnon didn’t quite agree and replied angrily: “Shut the fuck up and get back to work. If I ever see your fucking face again, I will tear it off and wear it on my ass for a hat.” After a momentary pause, he added, “Also, I’m banging your daughter.” He then made several lewd gestures and gyrations with his hips.

The old priest, horrified into absolute silence, turned and walked away without a word. He went to the ocean and prayed to Apollo: “Apollo, supreme coolest dude with a really neat bow, hear my prayer. Those Greek dudes are total dickwads. I would feel ever so much better if you killed those bastards.”

So Apollo, seeing that it was rapidly becoming all the rage with mortals, became extra pissed, got his bow, and went down to the Greek camp where he proceeded to kill all of their dogs and mules. He quickly bored of this, and soon focused on the Greeks themselves. He killed so many Greeks that the smoke from the funeral pyres made the air above the Greek camp look like a Beijing freeway in rush hour.

This went on for about a week and a half until Hera told Achilles that he should call a meeting of the Greeks while there were still some Greeks left to meet. Achilles then spoke eloquently to his Greek comrades:

“Okay, guys, we’ve either got to do something about this or go home. We need some serious thaumaturgy here to figure out why Apollo is so pissed. If we can get away with slaughtering some livestock to make him happy again, let’s do it.”

Calchas, the same guy who used prophecy to help the Greeks to find Troy (since no Greek trusted the AAA maps to Troy) knew already, and rose to tell the Greeks why Apollo was so pissed:

“You want to know why he’s pissed? I’ll tell you why, but first you all have to promise not to kick my ass if you don’t like the answer.” said Calchas.

“Come on, Calchas,” Achilles said, “Nobody’s going to kick your ass. I’ll protect you.” Calchas seemed happier at this and spoke once again:

“Agamemnon took Apollo’s priest’s daughter and won’t give her back. He’s pissed, and let me tell you, it’s only going to get worse unless we give back that girl. Also, he wants us to sacrifice, like, 100 cows to Chryse.”

Now Agamemnon was pissed, and castigated Calchas: “Your prophecies always suck, jackass, they always leave me worse off. So now it’s MY fault that Apollo is pissed off at us? I wanted to keep that girl, she’s totally hot-she’s even better than my wife!” He seethed, and seemed to calm slightly. “I don’t want to be the only guy without a chick here. Tell you what; if you guys give me another girl, I’ll let her go.”

Achilles rolled his eyes and replied: “How the hell are we going to find another girl for you? It’s not like we have a backorder catalogue warehouse full of them. All of the ones we got are already spoken for.” He thought for a moment, “Look, if Zeus ever lets us destroy Troy, you can have, like, three or four times as many as the rest of us. How’s that sound?”

“Fat chance, fuckwit,” Agamemnon replied, “What kind of an idiot do you think I am? You think I’m just gonna sit here and take this while the rest of you go home to your Grade-A poon? Look, you find me a new girl, or I’ll take yours, or Ajax’s, or Odysseus’.” When Agamemnon paused, Achilles thought of asking exactly which Ajax he meant, but seeing the look in the King’s eye, he stilled his tongue. “Alright,” Agamemnon sighed, “We can figure this out later. First, let’s get this sacrifice out of the way. Somebody go get a boat and some cows.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~UPDATE 2!~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Achilles was now pissed as well: “Oh, well, la-de-dah, mister big-shot. I came here to help you out, and this is how you repay me? I had never even heard of Troy before you came around, asking for help. Now you want to take my girl? Screw you, man, I’m going home.”

“Fine!” cried Agamemnon, “Go home, you big baby. I’m not stopping you. Don’t let the door hit your ass on the way out. I’m still going to take Briseis from your tent, though, just so you know how awesome I am. I’ll make an example of you!”

Achilles, prepared for badassery of the first degree, began to draw his sword, but Hera sent Athena down from Olympus to stop him. She grabbed his hair and made Achilles look like he was totally fucking wacko, as she was invisible at the time. He turned and addressed her, seeming to talk to thin air to his comrades: “What the fuck, woman?” he asked. “I was going to turn that bastard inside out through his own asshole. Why did you stop me?”

“It’s me, Athena, idiot,” she replied, “Hera sent me to stop your crazy ass before you killed Agamemnon. She likes both of you. Just go home and soak your head in a bucket for a while. I’ll make sure you get tons of treasure and shit if you just calm down.”

“Fine,” Achilles said dejectedly, replacing his sword, “I guess if Hera says. You’d better come through on that treasure promise, though.” She then left, and the Greeks were left staring at Achilles, thinking he had just gone batshit crazy in their midst. In response to their wild, frightened stares, he became quizzical: “What?” he asked. The Greeks, mostly drunk by this point, just shook their heads and chalked it up to more lead poisoning. Achilles shrugged it off and his anger returned.

“Alright, Agamemnon, you drunken coward. Your face is so ugly, it looks like Zeus himself set it on fire with his heavenly lightning, then commanded Hephaestus to put it out with a mighty blow from a cleated hammer, hewn of pure, gleaming adamant. You never fight, and you steal other people’s prizes. You’re going to regret this-you’re going to be all ‘Oh, where’s Achilles? He is so strong and brave, and these Trojans are kicking my sorry ass halfway to Hades. Oh please Achilles, come help us to fight mighty Hector,’ but I won’t help you. I’ll just laugh. And then you’ll rue the day you wronged me!”

Achilles punctuated his tirade by smashing the table with his golden staff, and huffily took his seat. An eerie silence fell across the Greeks, and even the most ouzo-besotted Achaean took note-there was, behind his constipated countenance, a storm brewing between Agamemnon’s mighty brows. Before he could speak the orator-in-residence, Nestor, stood and addressed the assembled Greeks. He was ancient beyond belief, and his face pockmarked like the surface of the moon, but his voice and words were as smooth as Barry Manilow:

“This is just fucking sad,” he said, “What would the Trojans say if they could see this? Look, I’m way older than anybody here, and I’ve seen some pretty awesome stuff in my day, and I hung with some pretty cool cats- Pirithous, Dryas, Caeneus, Exadius, godlike Polyphemus, and even Theseus. They all listened to me, and they turned out pretty well. Now listen to what I have to say: Agamemnon, don’t take Achilles’ girl, that’s just a dick move. And you, Achilles, can shut the hell up. You’re not helping anybody.”

“He started it!” Agamemnon shouted, “He wants to be king of everybody and boss us around and stuff, just because the Gods made him good with a spear! It’s not fair, I’m the king of everybody!”

“You can shove your crown straight up your ass,” Achilles said, “I won’t fight anybody about this girl, since you also gave her to me, but if you so much as touch my other stuff, I’ll kick your ass so hard, my boot will come out your mouth.”

With this, the Greeks finally disbanded and went back to their tents. Agamemnon got the priest’s daughter, a hundred cows, and set sail with Odysseus.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~UPDATE 3~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

While at sea, they purified themselves, and offered their sacrifice to the gods. Not only cows, but goats, chickens, and every manner of livestock they could scrape together. Better safe than sorry was Agamemnon’s point of view.

Upon their return, Agamemnon told his squires Talthybius and Eurybates to go to the tent of Achilles and take Briseis from him. “If that bastard refuses, I’ll come myself and hang him by his own intestines from the mast of his own ship.”

So the squires went in pants-shitting terror along the encampment to the Myrmidon ships where they found Achilles sitting alone outside of his tents. There was an insane gleam in his eye, and he grinned in a quietly unsettling way. “Welcome to my tents. I assume you’ve come for the girl,” he said in a smooth, even tone. Eurybates felt a warm wetness drench his legs. “Don’t worry, I’m not mad at you,” he continued. “Patroclus!” he called, “Bring her! Agamemnon has decided to make a big mistake.”

Patroclus brought the girl and handed her over, distraught though she was. “Take care!” called Achilles, as they left, his mood suddenly turning from mad anger to intense sadness. He ran to the ocean, where he knelt, weeping and calling for his mother, the Goddess Thetis. “Oh mother! Life sucks, this isn’t fair! First I’m supposed to die young, then everybody takes away all of my stuff!”

Deep in the sea, Thetis heard the pitiful wailings of her son and rose to comfort him. “Awwww, baby, tell mommy what happened! Did you get a boo-boo?”

Achilles ceased his crying, sniffled, and drew a shuddery, sobby breath. “No, mommy, it was Agamemnon, he ruined everything, and he took my girlfriend!” He then related the whole story of what had gone before to her in shaking, sobbing breaths.

“Could you go to Olympus and ask Zeus to help me out?” he asked finally, “I know he owes you a big one. Just help me out here!”

Thetis sighed, and muttered, wishing that Achilles had never been born. “Awww, okay, honey. You just wait here, and mommy will settle it all.”

She left, heading for Olympus, but he was still angry. Meanwhile, Odysseus had reached Chryse with the hundred cows and the girl. When moored in the harbor, he spoke to the priest. “Hey, buddy! Got your daughter back. Also, we brought a hundred cows-feel like some good ol’ sacrificing?”

With his daughter returned and the cows ready for sacrifice, the priest looked upwards towards heaven and said “Hey, Apollo, we’re all good down here. You can call off the Greek-o-caust.”

And so Apollo shrugged and watched the sacrifice. Later they all feasted, and much rejoicing was done by all.

Just for good measure, they decided to spend all day worshiping Apollo, and it seemed to work. In the morning, they set sail again, feeling refreshed and cleansed.

Meanwhile, Achilles continued his sulking. He never went to meetings, and never went out to fight, instead watching from his ships and providing unhelpful, acerbic, and oftentimes offensive commentary upon the skills, equipment, and (if all else failed) the questionable parentage of various Greek soldiers.

This went on for almost two weeks, but the Gods finally gathered upon Olympus. Thetis, recalling the whining of her man-child spawn went to Zeus and knelt down before him to call in a favor.

“Zeus, buddy, look, my kid is bitching at me about some bint Agamemnon took from him. Look, if you’re going to kill the kid, at least let him have nice things while he’s around. You owe me, big guy.”

Zeus looked uncomfortable, but did not speak. “Look, Zeus, just give me a yes or a know. If you don’t like me, just say so.”

“Fine, whatever, I’ll think about it. That’s the best I can do for now. I don’t want to make Hera mad, you know how she gets.” Thetis made a pouting face, and Zeus relented. “Okay, fine, jeez. I’ll make the Greeks pay for their insolence, whatever, just stop bugging me. We’re even now.” Thetis smiled at her job well done.

Their scheming done, Thetis departed and Zeus went home. Sneaking in to avoid Hera’s wrath, he stumbled into the room where all of the Gods were sitting. An uncomfortable moment occurred, and then stretched out before Zeus as if for eternity. They all stood up and waited until he took his seat-his very favorite laz-e-boy. Hera immediately started in on him. “You’ve been seeing that bitch, Thetis! I know, I can smell her disgusting sea-salt perfume on you! What were you two doing, scheming? You always go behind my back!”

“Woman,” thundered mighty Zeus, “Shut the fuck up, and get back to work. I’m sick of your constant screeching.”

“Screeching?” screeched Hera, “When have I ever screeched? I just want to make sure you’re not going to fuck with my Greeks.”

“Hera,” said the mighty son of Kronos, “Sit the hell down, and shut the hell up.”

Hera rolled her eyes, but sat. The other Gods were uncomfortable as always when mom and dad fought. Hephaestus went to Hera to try and calm her: “Mom, look, just let him have his way. We all hate it when you fight. It’s so…” he searched for the word, “Mortal. You can’t get information from Zeus directly, you have to be subtle. Trick him out of it, get him drunk or something.”

With this, he filled a huge cup with a mysterious liquid and gave it to his mother. “Now, drink this, it’ll make you feel better.” Hera eyed it suspiciously. “Look, I’m on your side,” said the great smithy, “Remember when I helped you and he threw me off the mountain, and I almost died? I’m definitely not on his side.”

Hera laughed, remembering how hilarious this incident was, then drank heavily. Hephaestus then passed the cup around, and everybody got extremely drunk, and laughed a lot at Hephaestus.

And so they partied all day, and lo the party was sick as shit. They all eventually stumbled home, huarfing all over the sidewalks of heaven. So Zeus and Hera slept it off in their bed without fighting for the first time in ages.

BOOK II

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~UPDATE #1~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
While all the mortals and immortals alike slept, Zeus tossed and turned in his bed, thinking of how best to kill off a metric-assload of Greeks. He finally settled on sending a dream to Agamemnon-a dream which would lie to him and promise that the Gods were all on his side now, and that if he attacks now, Troy will fall. As drunk as he still was, he spoke this all aloud, as if he was talking to the dream.

And so downwards the dream sped, straight into Agamemnon’s tent and in through his nose. The image of Nestor, his trusted advisor appeared in front of the king, hovering ghostly, and then spoke:

“Hey, buddy, you’re asleep, as well you should be, what with all of your heavy responsibilities. Let me just say this from Zeus himself: the Gods are agreed, you are totally better than the Trojans, so if you attack now you will kick unmitigated amounts of ass. Those bastards won’t stand a single goddamned chance, seriously. I would never lie to you, because I’m totally not a lying dream.”

The dream left, and Agamemnon considered all of the awesome things he was about to do-of the asses he would soon kick. Little did he know that is was his ass which Zeus intended to be kicked this day. He was so excited, he got up, dressed, and went outside to find his friends.

It was now dawn, so Agamemnon sent some messengers to call everybody to a meeting. He first met with all of the leaders, though, at the ships of Nestor, elderest of them all.

“Guys, guess what?” he asked excitedly, “I had an awesome dream last night. Nestor, you were in it, and so was Zeus, and a bunch of other things. Zeus told me that if we attack today, we’ll totally win! Before we go out to battle though, I want to play a little practical joke on them. I’ll tell them that we’re leaving, and you guys should totally tell them to stay!”

He sat, and all of the elders exchanged exasperated looks. Nestor stood and spoke, “Look, if anybody else said that, we’d be all ‘fuck-off-outta-here’ because that is some crazy ass shit, but since it’s you Agamemnon, we’ll do it.” Everybody was forced to agree, because even though Agamemnon was decidedly fifty pounds of crazy in a ten pound box, he was the king.

And so they left and went to the crowd, which was muttering to itself, “Rabble, rabble, rabble…” Agamemnon raised his kingly staff, which had been in his family for about a gazillion generations, and silence fell.

“Warriors!” he thundered, “I’m really bummed to tell you this, but Zeus lied to us, we’re not going to sack Troy. We’ve been here for nine years, our ships have rotted away, and our families miss us back home. Now I say this to you: screw Troy, and screw Priam, and all of his friends, let’s go home.”

And so the Greek army, weakling cowards that they were, nearly crushed each other in the race to get back to the ships.

Hera, however, was displeased, and spoke to Athena: “Do you even believe this shit?” she asked, “They’re giving up, those assholes! Go down there and make them stay.”

Athena, being like-minded, raced downwards to the ships at once. She landed next to Odysseus, who was standing alone, rooted to the spot in shock and sadness, mostly because he liked killing things and going home would mean less of that. “Odysseus, dude,” she said, “This sailing home crap is totally overrated. You should tell everybody to stay.”

Odysseus knew it was Athena, and ran off to tell everybody. First, he went to Agamemnon and took his awesome staff so that people would listen, then ran off among the crowd.

Wherever he met somebody important, he would say: “You are totally a pussy, running away like this. Agamemnon was just testing your loyalty, and I think he’s pissed now.”

When people tried to argue, he smote them with Agamemnon’s staff and yelled in their faces: “BITCH, WHO’S GOT THE TALKING STICK? IS IT YOU? NO, IT’S ME, SO YOU’D BEST BE SHUTTING RIGHT THE FUCK UP BEFORE I RIP YOUR VOCAL CHORDS OUT AND STRANGLE YOU WITH THEM.”

So people pretty much listened.

Everybody sat down again, but Thersites kept arguing like the little bitch he was-nobody liked him, and he was the ugliest man in Greece. Odysseus was of the inclination that Thersites had been born of the unholy union of Cerberus, the three-headed dog guardian of the underworld and an extremely ugly mother. Achilles often said that, whereas he had been dipped in the river Styx (the river of death) to protect him from death, so too must Thersites have been dipped in the river of attractiveness, so that he was thoroughly protected from good-looks. Agamemnon simply espoused the theory that Thersites was not a human being, but actually the fruit of the ugly tree which had unfortunately fallen off and hit every branch on the way down. No matter what he really was, he continued belching forth his foul speech against his leaders, making nearly the entire Greek army revisit their lunches upon the ground.

“You suck, Agamemnon!” he shouted, “You’re greedy, you steal from your men, and you’re a coward. You even stole from Achilles, your best fighter, who is also a better man than you. If he wanted to, he could rip your arms off and beat you to death with them without breaking a sweat. We really should just go home.”

Pretty much everybody agreed with this, as it was quite reasonable, but Odysseus was having none of it. “I would tell you to shut your face, but it’s obvious you’re talking out your ass, you taint-licker. You don’t talk about kings like that. By the Gods, if I catch you spouting such nonsense again, I’ll kick your ass so hard you’ll land in next year.”

Odysseus hefted his whacking stick, and so the beating commenced. Everybody was sorry for Thersites, but was really too afraid to say so. “Boy, that Odysseus is a cool guy, I think he’s just the best!” was the word of the day.

Odysseus finally turned and silenced the whole crowd with a glance, then addressed them all:

“Alright guys, I can’t blame you if you want to go home-I mean, we’ve been here a while. Still, it would be a crying damn shame to let all this effort go to waste.”

“You all remember what a bitch it was to get here, and you all know the prophecies-remember the one with the snake eating all the birds? And then Zeus turned it into a rock? It meant nine years of fighting, then we win! This is our year! We’re so close!”

Everybody cheered, then Nestor stood and addressed them: “You guys may talk the talk, but can you walk the walk? That is what your boots were made for, Agamemnon, that and kicking ass, so I suggest you get busy. I declare this: I won’t leave until I get me some Trojan women!”

“True that, brother,” replied Agamemnon, “Okay, everybody, have a good breakfast, plenty of fiber and carbs and whatnot; you’re going to be working pretty hard out there, and we don’t know when we’ll have time for lunch. We’re gonna be chopping up Trojans all the live-long day!” He sighed to himself then, “You know, I kinda wish Achilles was here-he always liked killing Trojans.”

Nobody heard this last remark, though, because they were cheering his previous statement. They all rose and ran to eat, offering goats and chickens, cows and ducks, and pretty much all manner of beast to the Gods for favor. Everybody important went to Agamemnon’s sacrifice party, and they had the best time. Agamemnon himself offered a prayer to Zeus: “Dear Zeus, who is so awesome and kickass, whose lightning fries us puny mortals with ease, and whose heavenly boots we are not even fit to lick-please let me not fuck this thing up.”

Up in heaven, Zeus was laughing his ass off. Once they had feasted, Nestor again addressed Agamemnon: “Alright, let’s get this show on the road.”

And so they rounded up the Greek army and arranged them in ranks, and Athena walked around wearing an awesome cape, encouraging everybody and bolstering their spirits until all they could think about was turning Trojans into bite-size Trojan bits.

There were approximately 3.92 gazillion of them, and the pounding of their feet was like an earthquake upon the ground. When they were finally arrayed, they looked like a field full of grass, if the blades of grass were carrying spears and really wanted to kill some Trojans.

And so, just like a swarm of flies, they surged forward towards Troy, intent on destruction, pillaging, and fun in general.

Agamemnon walked between the ranks, and everybody could see that he was a total badass. He had huge muscles, like some crazy weightlifter, and his eyes burned with an inner fire that bespoke a slight insanity.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~UPDATE #2~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Oh, Muses, help me out here, because I have a lot of dudes to remember. I shall now tell you all the names of the important guys in the Greek army:

[SECTION REDACTED FOR THE MENTAL HEALTH OF ALL READERS]

Editor’s Note: This section is known as the catalog of ships. In it, the author (for, indeed, there is some debate as to whether this was in Homer’s version) lists basically every male Greek in existence at the time of the Trojan war, as well as the names of his family for three generations, where he’s from, and usually something vaguely interesting about him. The catalog has never been read in its entirety, but it is estimated that roughly 1.7 million people are listed. It is also estimated that about half of the Greeks are sons, grandsons, or other relatives of Hercules. We must then imagine that most of the army resembled, in some way or other, Kevin Sorbo. Oddly, this list seems not to be an image of the political arrangement of Homer’s time (the Iron Age), nor the actual time it is set in, but rather some sort of strange combination. It seems likely that the catalog collected over time through many tellings. The only certain thing is that it is intensely boring and you don’t want to read it. You’re welcome.

And those were all the Greeks. Tell me then, Muse, who were the badassest of them all?

Well, Eumelus had the best horses, they were like goddamned cheetas and everybody who saw them agreed that they could fucking rip. They were all the same color, age, and height, which made them look extra badass. Apollo himself bred them. As long as Achilles was moping, Ajax son of Telamon was the best fighter, but Achilles was totally way better than him, and he had better horses. Achilles wasn’t going to fight, and neither were his men, who just stayed behind having fun, screwing around, and being bored.

They marched across the plain like a plague of locusts, and the sound was fucking terrifying, like a goddamn thunderstorm on steroids.

So Zeus sent Iris, who was really fast, to warn the Trojans about the approaching Greek menace. She went to king Priam in the guise of his son Polites the watchman. They were all talking, but Iris yelled over them all: “Never mind that shit, here come the Greeks! Hector, you’d better get to work!”

Hector knew it was the goddess, and immediately sent everybody back inside. The Trojans and their allies geared up for battle.

There is a hill near Troy which is the grave of some Amazon or other, and it was there that the Trojan forces arrayed for battle.

[THIS SECTION ALSO REDACTED FOR SIMILAR REASONS TO THAT ABOVE]

Editor’s Note: This section is called the Catalog of the Trojans and their Allies. It is not quite as long as the Catalog of Ships, but is equally boring. In any case, this is where book two leaves off, ready for battle. I suppose Homer decided that the boring stuff had to go before all the awesome stuff, or nobody would ever read it.

BOOK III

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~UPDATE #1~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So when they were all lined up together, they advanced like a flock of birds towards the Greeks. While the Trojans were loud and boisterous as they marched, the Greeks were silent, thinking this was way more intimidating.

The dust from their passing threw up a cloud as thick as pea soup, though decidedly less tasty, and without little chunks of bacon floating around. Instead there were spears, which are slightly less delicious than bacon.

As they approached each other, Paris (who was called Alexander by his friends) came forward. He wore a panther skin, which he thought made him look totally sexy, and he carried a bow, a sword, and two spears. He challenged the bravest Greek to single combat. A shit-eating grin spread across Menelaus’ face, as this was the moment he had been waiting for. He jumped down from his great chariot and ran forward.

Paris just about shit himself when he saw Menelaus coming for him and cowered behind his men.

“By the Gods, Paris, you’re such a pussy,” said his brother Hector, “What the hell is wrong with you, pretty boy? You dishonor me, our father, and our entire house. You stole Menelaus’ wife, you should face him in combat. I won’t have anybody talking shit about us just because you’re a coward.”

“You’re a hard man, Hector,” Paris replied, “But fair. Tell everybody to sit down, and I will do glorious battle with Menelaus with Helen as the prize. Whoever wins gets her forever, and that’ll be the end of it. If I win they all have to go home.”

Hector was satisfied with this, and spread the word throughout the army. The Greeks still had spears and rocks locked on them and ready to fire until Agamemnon recognized Hector’s intent and called for silence: “Shut up, everybody, Hector has something to say!”

When the they had stopped aiming the spears and other implements, Hector spoke: “Look, everybody, my little brother Alex, who you all know as Paris, is offering to fight Menelaus for Helen one-on-one. Winner takes all, then we all go home. Do you understand the words that are coming out of my mouth? No more war-what is it good for anyway?”

Silence fell until Menelaus replied: “This is my problem guys, and while I appreciate your support, I think I have to handle it now. I agree to your terms, Hector, but first let’s bring some sheep to sacrifice, and get your dad. I don’t trust that maggot-infested section of impacted bowel that calls itself Paris, but I’ll trust Priam.”

Everybody on both sides pretty much agreed that this was reasonable, and they all loosened their belts and sat down for a drink or two. Messengers were sent to both the Greek ships and Troy for sheep and Priam.

Then the Goddess Iris went to visit Helen, taking the form of one of her many sisters-in-law. Helen was in her room, making a tapestry which depicted the Greeks and Trojans fighting over her. “There’s some weird shit going down at the battle plain,” said the Goddess, “Instead of spreading each-other’s entrails around the ground like it was a huge painting, they’re slacking off and resting. I think Paris and Menelaus are going to totally duke it out, mano-a-mano.”

Helen thought this was pretty sweet, so she ran at once to the city gates.

A ton of really old dudes were sitting on the porch by the gates, rocking back and forth slowly in their chairs and waiting for young trespassers to threaten with their old spears. When they saw Helen coming, they began murmuring amongst themselves: “Wow, that is one fine piece of ass!” Still, the overwhelming majority thought it was a good idea to just give her back to the Greeks before they burned down the city.

Priam, being the old softy that he was, beckoned her closer. “I don’t blame you Helen,” he said, “It’s those blasted Gods. Now, tell me, who is that huge, burly young man out in front of the Greeks.”

Helen was a little put off, “Uh, that’s Agamemnon. You know, only the guy you’ve been fighting against for nine fucking years. He’s my brother-in-law, you know, from before.”

Priam smiled blandly, ignoring most of what she said. “What a cool guy, to have all those Greeks following him. You know, when I was a young man I went to fight…” he continued talking for about five minutes, but nobody listened. Eventually, he stopped talking mid-sentence, as if he had suddenly awakened, looking around at all of the blank faces.

“Oh, and who is that guy?” he said, pointing at Odysseus, “He looks like a big wooly ram!”

Helen rolled her eyes. “Odysseus, he’s the smart one from Ithica.”

Antenor, one of the more lively elders, spoke up now. “Yes, Priam, you remember Odysseus. He came earlier with Menelaus and stayed in my house back when they were using words to ask for Helen instead of spears. He’s a good speaker, enunciates well.”

Priam seemed to absorb this information about as well as a brick absorbs tennis balls. He pointed out Ajax next: “Is that a giant?”

“No, that’s Ajax. Big Ajax, anyway. And next to him is Idomeneus. Look, I know all of these guys, and I could stand here all afternoon telling you their names, but it wouldn’t do any good. All I care about is that I can’t see my brothers, Castor and Pollux. Where could they be?”

Obviously, Helen had not looked up at the night sky in some time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~UPDATE #2~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The messengers, bringing all the necessary sacrifice implements and accouterments approached the gathering of old people and Helen. “King Priam, we need you down at the battle, they need you to pinky swear that whoever wins this battle will get Helen.”

Priam, still confused, was loaded onto a chariot and hastened unto the meeting of Greeks and Trojans.

Agamemnon and Odysseus were both there to meet them, and they began the sacrifice. “Oh Zeus, who is the best of all the Gods, whose lightning makes mortals shit their pants in collective terror, and who will surely impregnate most of our wives, please hold everybody to this contract: If Paris kills Menelaus he can keep Helen, but if, as everybody thinks is way more likely, Menelaus kills Paris (which he almost certainly will), we get to keep her, and Priam has to pay a fine, and agree that we’re the best, and if they don’t I’ll stay here until I have personally ripped their heads off and shoved them up the asses of their own corpses.”

He smiled at Priam unwavering, unblinking, and barely moving while cutting open the sheep’s throats, letting the blood soak the ground. Everybody agreed he was kind of creepy. Then they each poured out a 40 of wine for Zeus, saying unto each other “Are you ready to rumble?” and generally making intimidating gestures.

As you can tell, prayer was way more fun back in ancient Greece. After this was all done, Priam looked from Menelaus to Paris a few times, as if comparing them. His smile wavered for a moment, then he spoke. “Well, Paris, it looks like you’re fucked. I’m not even going to watch this travesty. It’s a good thing I have a lot of sons.”

With that, he got in his chariot and left. Hector and Odysseus measured out the fighting ground and cast lots to see who would get to go first. Meanwhile, everybody else offered their prayers to Zeus, accusing the other side of having started the war.

Odysseus made Hector cover his eyes, then shake the helmet with the lots inside. The first one to come out was Paris, which meant that he got to go first. They both put on their armor, which was pretty good armor, since they were both princes.

This done, they finally stalked to either end of the measured killin’ ground, holding their spears. Paris went first, hurling his spear at Menelaus. It was, however, a rather wimpy throw and simply stuck in Menelaus’ shield like a giant pincushion. Menelaus offered a brief prayer to Zeus: “Come on, buddy, let me just kill this asshole here and now.”

Menelaus then hurled his spear and he was not wimpy, so it went all the way through Paris’ shield and armor, but only scratched his side. Enraged, Menelaus immediately drew his sword, and before Paris could react he was charging, rabid foam flying from his mouth. He dove at least fifteen feet through the air and time seemed to slow as his sword point neared Paris’ helmet, but as they made contact, Menelaus’ sword shattered. “FFFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU–” yelled Menelaus.

Realizing that his only remaining weapons were his bare hands, he smiled crazily and grabbed Paris by the helmet, dragging him back towards the Greeks where he planned to borrow a sword. But before his masterful plan of de-heading could commence, Aphrodite rushed down from Olympus and broke the strap on Paris’ helmet. Menelaus came away with only an empty helmet, and his rage was so great now that he was unable to utter a single word-anger had erased his ability for speech and most higher functions. Thankfully, killing somebody with your bare hands is not a higher function, so Menelaus crushed the helmet in his hands and threw it away, jumping forward to grab Paris. However, Aphrodite foiled him again, transporting Paris back to his bedroom instantly.

Aphrodite then went to find Helen. “Hey, Helen, Paris is in his room and he looks totally hot,” she said, “I would so bang him. He looks like he’s ready for a night of clubbing.”

Helen, figuring it was now her turn, was pissed. “What the hell, Aphrodite? Unless I am very wrong, Menelaus should have just killed the hell out of Paris. If you really like him so much, why don’t you go and marry him?”

Aphrodite was also pissed now: “Bitch, don’t talk to a Goddess like that. We Gods made you, and we can unmake you just as easily.”

This scared Helen, so she followed Aphrodite without protest.

Aphrodite then set up a seat for Helen in Paris’ room, and she sat to talk to her husband.

“Paris, why can’t you do anything right?” she asked, “You were supposed to die there, and you even fucked that up. You keep bragging about how awesome you are, so go challenge Menelaus again. That way you can die and we can all go home.”

“Shut up,” said Paris, “It was Athena, she was helping Menelaus. I’ll get him next time.” He looked up at her hopefully. “Now we make sexytimes?” And so they did.

Back on the battlefield, Menelaus was still incoherent with rage, and looking everywhere for Paris. He looked under the chariots, behind every shield, and he even checked the latrines. When he could find Paris nowhere, he stalked back to his brother, who addressed the crowd. “Okay, everybody, it looks like Paris lost. That means we get Helen and some gold. Pay up!”

The Greeks were pretty happy.

BOOK IV

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Update 1~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The gods again sat in council, supplied with fresh nectar by Hebe, and fresh entertainment by the warriors down below. Zeus then laughed at Hera and Athena: “Man, you bitches are lazy. Even Aphrodite isn’t above going down to help out her favorite dude, and you two just sit here on your ever-fattening asses. Anyway, what are we going to do about this? Menelaus kind of did win, after all.”

Hera and Athena muttered mutinously under their breath. Hera then spoke: “Fuck you, Zeus, we’re not listening to you anymore.”

“What did Priam ever do to you, Hera?” Zeus asked. She continued her glare. “Fine, I’m not going to argue with you. Go kill the Trojans. But next time I want to destroy one of your favorite cities, you’d better not get all pissy.”

“I don’t even care,” said Hera, “I like Argos, Sparta, and Mycenae, you can have any of them any time you want, I won’t even argue. Tell Athena to go down now and help the Greeks by getting the Trojans to break the truce first.”

Zeus threw up his hands in exasperation, and told Athena to go.

She didn’t need telling twice, shooting downwards like a fiery meteor, leaving a trail of smoke. Everybody down below was gobsmacked by the sight of it. A lone voice spoke: “I have a bad feeling about this.”

Athena took the form of some random Trojan, and went to find the archer Pandarus. “Dude, how awesome would it be if you shot an arrow at Menelaus right now?” she said. “Pretty awesome, am I right? Everybody would think you’re the best forever.”

Pandarus grinned stupidly and nocked an arrow. He aimed carefully, having his followers stand in front of him so nobody else could see what he was doing, then he let fly, his bow twanging in the still air.

The arrow arched upwards towards the sun and, reaching its apex, heeled over and set it’s point directly towards Menelaus. Menelaus got lucky, though, because Athena was already there, and she guided the arrow into his belt buckle. The arrow went through all of his armor and drew blood, but it was a superficial wound.

Superficial though it was, the wound bled and stained Menelaus’ clothes red from his waist down.

Agamemnon saw this and rushed to his brother. They were relieved when they found that the arrow had only broken the skin, and not hooked itself in Menelaus’ gut. “Those goddamned Trojans!” Agamemnon said, “They broke their word! I am personally going to fuck them up! You’d better not die now, brother. If you do, everybody will go home before we get to sack Troy.”

“I’ll be fine,” Menelaus said.

“Good, but let’s get you to the doctor first,” replied Agamemnon.

“Medic!” he shouted, “Somebody shot my brother!”

Thus Thalthybius went to find Machaon, the medic. Upon finding him, he jerked a thumb over his shoulder to where Menelaus and Agamemnon were. “Come on, some dumbass Trojan shot Menelaus.”

Machaon went with haste and came upon Menelaus in a circle of all the kings and princes. He knelt and ripped out the arrow with such force that the barbs bent backwards from the strain. He then laid all sorts of herbs on Menelaus and gave him two aspirin.

Meanwhile, the Trojans had put on their armor and began to attack.

Agamemnon, eager for battle, left his chariot with Eurymedon, though told him to keep the horses idling in case they were needed. Being from Sparta, he really liked battle, and every time he saw somebody running forward to fight the Trojans he would scream “Tonight we dine in tartarus!”

When he saw people hanging back, however, he was angry. “You cowards! You are like feces smeared upon a masterpiece painting! Get the hell out of my sight or start fighting!”

And so he went among his troops and found the Cretans and Idomeneus arranging for battle. Agamemnon was happy and urged them on: “Idomeneus, you are the best. Go show ‘em what you’re made of!”

“I won’t let you down, sir!” said Idomeneus. “I’m ready to flatten some Trojans!”

Agamemnon smiled and marched on until he found both of the Ajaxes suiting up for battle. It was like watching a pair of class five hurricane approaching on the horizon, and Agamemnon twitched involuntarily. “Nothing to say here,” he said, “I wish everybody was as badass as you guys.”

He next found Nestor and his friends marching to battle at the front of their divisions. “Make sure you all attack at the same time, guys,” Nestor was telling his troops, “If you take them on one-on-one, you’re going to die.”

“I wish you weren’t so goddamn old,” said Agamemnon, “We could use your help out there.”

Nestor shrugged. “Shit happens. Deal.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Update 2~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Agamemnon bopped on over to Menestheus, who was loitering around with the Athenians and Odysseus with his Cephallenians. None of them had yet heard the battle cry, and so were waiting around for something to happen. This killed Agamemnon’s buzz real quick, so he got up in their faces and rebuked them: “The hell are you guys doing?” he asked, “You should be out front, you lazy-ass dogs. You’re always the first guys in line for food at the feasts. Maybe you could go out there and earn it once in a while.”

“Shut the hell up, Agamemnon,” said Odysseus, “You know full well that I’m going to kick six metric assloads of Trojan butt today. Quit talking out your ass.”

Agamemonon smiled at this anger. “Odysseus, that’s all I needed to hear. I bet you’ll kick eight metric assloads today.” They then smiled at each other, their strife forgotten.

Next, Agamemnon found Diomedes, who was just standing around with Sthenelus. “Diomedes, you lazy ass, your dad never stood around like this when there was battle to be had. He was such a badass. They say that once, long ago, he came up against a bunch of Cadmeans who were pissed about something and he killed, like, fifty guys with his bare goddamn hands. Let’s see some of that out there today.”

Diomedes was shamed and did not answer, but Sthenelus did: “What the hell, Agamemnon? We boast because we’ve proven that we’re awesome. Didn’t we take Thebes against overwhelming odds? Our dads were cool guys, but we’re pretty hot ourselves.”

Diomedes then answered “Agamemnon is right, Sthenelus, he’s our commander and it’s his job to tell his troops what to do. Now let’s get out there and get to some mindless Trojan slaughtering!”

With this he leaped down from his chariot and struck an awesome manly pose, and his armor sounded like a gong ringing clear over the battlefield, striking terror into the nightmare hearts of a thousand seasoned warriors, and the light of heaven shone around him like a glorious wreath of golden flame, silhouetting his bulging, burly muscles so that all who stood around him were awed as if in the presence of one of the great immortal Olympians. “Daaaamn,” said Sthenelus in awe. Agamemnon rejoined this with his own exclamation: “Shiiiiiiiiiit!” Diomedes simply uttered: “Fuck yeah.”

And so the Greek army advanced like a motherfucking tsunami. Silent, but deadly they advanced, menacing the Trojan ranks, who stood yelling and screaming like a flock of sheep about to be slaughtered. Although Ares was with them, so too were his entourage, Panic, Rout, and Strife, and they were sewing trouble amongst the Trojans.
And so the armies finally met with a great clash of shields and spears. Chaos broke out, and there was much shouting and yelling. The soil was soon ran red with the blood of Greeks and Trojans alike.

The first to die was the Trojan Echepolus, who was killed by Antilochus. His spear went right through the helmet and into Echepolus’ brain, and darkness fell down upon him like dusk upon the earth. So too did he fall, like a giant stack of Jenga blocks after somebody removed all the blocks on the bottom. Elephenor tried to drag him away to steal his armor, but Agenor saw this and sliced Elephenor up something fierce. The fight over the corpses became turgid and violent, like a pack of ravenous weasels fighting over a scrap of food.

Next, Ajax the Telamonian killed Simoeisius with a spear to the chesticle-region. “Timberrrrr!” Yelled Ajax as the young Trojan fell, and Antiphus, one of the many sons of Priam, hurled a spear at him in anger. He missed Ajax, but managed to hit Lecus, who was the comrade of Odysseus. It hit him in the groin, and Odysseus was furious when he saw this. He hurled his spear towards the Trojans, not caring which he hit. In this case, it hit Democoon, another son of Priam, and went in one temple and out the other like a trick arrow from a joke shop. Odysseus laughed to see such an image. The Trojans fell back against this furious onslaught, but this angered Apollo, who shouted at them: “Come on, Trojans! Achilles isn’t even here, you can take these guys!”

As Apollo was cheering on the Trojans, so too was Athena cheering on the Greeks, going amongst their ranks and urging them on.

Diores was the next to snuff it-his ankle was crushed to a fine powder by a huge rock hurled by the Thracian Peirous. Following quickly upon the stone, Peirous stuck a spear through Diores and killed him dead. As Peirous was leaving, though, he was also speared through the chest by Thoas of Aetolia. Thoas then drew his sword and filleted Peirous like a fish. The Thracians crowded around and protected the body of their comrade like a giant spear-tipped porcupine.

It was some pretty heavy shit, and a lot of dudes kicked the bucket that day.