In the minds of those present, the party was going well. Which is to say that in truth, the party was not going well.
Conversation had transformed as though run through the digestive system of a turkey to become a loud and nitrogen rich scream-til-you’re-hoarse innuendo fit.
Hula hooping was occurring on the lawn and there was a man in a pink leotard on the roof screaming something about the TV show Alf.

Ulysses S. Groan muttered into the ear of a synth-woman from Rhodes as Queen Penelope went to powder her nose.
Centaurs sheepishly eyed the fawns who dogged their hounding advances thinking them wolves in sheeps clothing.
The centaurs wished they hadn’t worn wool sweaters becuase it was really an unseasonably warm evening.
When Penelope returned from the powder room her husband was nowhere to be found–unless one was to look in the boathouse, where they would find him performing a sex act badly on a bored looking synth-woman who was thinking about Paris, the beautiful shepherd boy.
Outside at the bottom of the hill, peasants lay hunched on the ground capturing beer run-off that had trickled through the garden. Some gathered precious drops in cotton balls to bring home to their loved ones to enact the best of romantic events–the surprising celebration for no real reason.

Ulysses stepped from the boathouse and patted his himself on the shoulder.
“Satisfied are ye?”
Ulysses wrenched his neck with a start. “Gah! Who?”
Before him stood a cloaked figure, a lank snuffed candle outlined by koi pond.
“Such a look as ye give follows on the tail of sin as sure one side of a page the other.”
“Sin’s not so much my cup of tea. Tea isn’t even my cup of tea. I’m more of a drinking man. And any drunk worth their salt or salty snacks isn’t capable of sin.”
“From inside an oil well may one see the coffee stain on their tie? Or the lipstick on their collar?”
Ulysses glanced down and wiped frantically at a shock of Apple Red lipstick like a comet’s tail scorching his starched shirt.
“Who do I have the great pleasure of making kind conversation?”
“My name…is…Mypluss Won.” said Eris from inside the dark shadows of her cloak.
Just then Penelope came sweeping down the lawn on a Segway scooter. “There you are Uly. And who’s this?”
“This is Mypluss Won.”
“Oh! Well, I’m sorry to interrupt.” White with embarrassment and anger she zipped off with a gentle lean forward.
“I’ll use that as segue…Do you love your wife Ulysses S. Groan?”
“How did….yes of course I love the Queen!”
“How do you expect anyone to believe the words of a man who claims to have no sin?”
“Huh?”
“I only make friends of sinners. If I’m going to play with snakes, I’d rather they know they’re snakes and not imagine they’re teddy bears.” Eris turned down the walk way.
“Look, Obi-Wan–”
“Mypluss Won.”
“Look, I’m not perfect. No one is. Believe me humility or the aire thereof is a key component in effective politicking. Its just that I don’t believe in sin.” said the King like a king.
“I understand how a child can talk themself out of believing that there isn’t a monster under their bed. But when the monster convinces themself that there isn’t a child in bed, that’s monstrously childish thinking.”
Ulysses stooped to pick up a stone.
“I don’t believe in a God to sin against.”
“Oh, I don’t either. I was talking about sin. Who said anything about a God?”
At that moment Athena walked by and the two bowed deeply.

They walked in silence towards the bandshell where Peleus and Thetis were gathering partiers for a toast.
Eris, Goddess of Discort, Chaos, and General Assholery whispered in King Ulysses’ ear:

Meaningless! Meaningless!
that’s the sum of all this cachaphonous phonyness .
Utterly meaningless!
Everything is meaningless.
To prove my point, watch an hour of cable television.

What does a person gain from all their labor
at which they might  toil under the sun?
I mean, besides a tasty meal including delicious wine.
Just….hard work never pays off. That’s the point.

Generations come and generations go,
and no one ever understands teenagers. That’s the one thing teenagers get right: no one gets them.
And who’d want to? Have you heard the music they listen to nowadays?

The sun rises, the wind blows, and rivers run to the sea.
Big whoop.

What has been will be again,
what has been done will be done again;
there is nothing new under the sun.
I mean, you’ve read Nietzsche right?

Is there anything of which one can say,
‘Look! This is something new’!
All the stories that are told basically follow like the same five plots.
Guy goes to war and tries to get back home to his loving and doting wife.
What bullshit.

“Well you certainly are a pleasant dinner guest.” said Ulysses.
“And King Ulysses! Thank you for joining us!” Thetis stood on a table pointing and the crowd turned to recognize the Ithacan King.
“Hey.”
“King,” said Peleus, “Please introduce us to your hooded figure…I mean friend.”
“This is Mypluss Won.”
A pregnant pause hung over the crowd before being broken by a pregnant woman falling down the flight of patio stairs. Another pregnant pause.

“Welcome one and all to the wedding party of Peleus and Thetis!” Zeus’ strong voice shook the yard. “In just moment we will bind these two lovers in holy matrimony, and….”
The sound of a soft knock as a bright golden apple bounced off Zeus’ forehead. The Father of the Gods lifted it from the ground to find that it had a weathered parchment strung to its emerald stem.
Reading from the paper Zeus announced: “To The Fartist.”
Ulysses farted loudly and grabbed it from his hands.

Zeus: Okay, that was weird. And really smelly. Ulysses are you okay? Do you need to change?
Uly: No. I’ll be okay. I just stand with my legs far apart. It’ll dry.
Zeus: Okay so where was I? Uh holy matrimony…”
Eris: Wait! Read the paper again! Please.
Uly: To The Fairest. Oh. (he hands the apple back to Zeus)

And this my friends is what is called a cliffhanger.

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