Sisyphus descends a spiral staircase connecting heaven to hell. He’d been demoted at his job and now tasked with lugging a square boulder up and down the steps. Along the way, he encounters the ghost of Virgil who remarks that his situation had taken an abysmal turn. Sisyphus inquired if his situation was truly more futile than before. The task remained endless, yet rest proved monotonous for nothing would change and he’d lapse into ennui. Virgil guffawed and then gifted Sisyphus a clock so that he’d suffer equally in mind, body, and spirit.
The Delphic oracle prophesied that a great pestilence would sweep over the land, cleansing it of all the weak and the corrupt. To hide the pronouncement from the masses, the Grecian king appeased the soothsayer with sacrifices of his most prized possessions each year. The stakes crossed the line however when the oracle wished to see the king’s stallion. Outright refusal would not suffice and so a plan was actuated to replace the steed with a lesser stock. Manes were trimmed, muzzles cleanly waxed, and calves embronzed to imitate the true prize. On the day of the offering, the king unveiled the nigh indistinguishable impostor to the gasps of the court. The priestess starred for a hard minute before replying face in palm.
“I thought it taller and nobler, but I see now its dense backside. A blind ass would have done better.”
Her mordant wit flew over everyone’s heads.
A priest traveled abroad to seek an answer to an age-old question… what is the good in life? Along the way, he encounters a bard, a grandmaster, and a doctor in a tavern. When inquired, the bard pined about love blossomed and then lost, the grandmaster dramatized his rise and fall from power, the doctor lamented on duty and suffering. The priest quoted a passage from God but the three laughed it off. That night, the bard dreamt of risqué encounters with men, the grandmaster of bloody pieces on a chess board, the doctor of fevered patients in nooses. Sunday morning dawned and the three men attended confessionals, each pouring their hearts out. The priest nodded and forgave each of their sin, accepting an indulgence for their penances. After the service, all parties left and continued along their merry ways. The priest took off his collar and donned a tie.
“Who is first amongst equals?” Socrates asked.
“I am!” stomped Earth. “Without me, there is no ground for arguments to stand on.”
“Boooo!!” howled Wind. “Did you lift that bit from Water? Or did you get mud in your ears?”
“Stop blowing smoke!!!” roared Water. “No, I mean… stop with the nonsense.”
“Hahahaha” cracked Fire. “Water, I thought you’d be the most fluid. Never knew you’d rather be air-dried cough cough 😊”
Socrates rolled his eyes and sighed “I’m appointing Aether as first. Rest of you… get a planet.”
“What hubris!” the four exclaimed.
“The record stands 11 to 10” chirped Kris as he tied off his skip to the wharf. The last race had gone exceptionally well given the headwinds in the last hour.
“You got lucky this time! If it wasn’t for that alligator that started tailgating my boat” yelled Wheaton who was still sweating from the near life-death experience.
“Tailgating both of us. I recall being neck and neck when that log started drifting on its own. You made the first move to break away before it pounced”
“Bah, how was I supposed to know gators like moving prey. Don’t they prefer to sneak up on their food?”
Kris gave a slight grin as he took a gander around Wheaton’s craft. “Maybe it wasn’t looking for food. That engine of yours makes a pretty deep rumble.”
Entry to this week’s FFFC!
Apologies for any offenses beforehand 🙂
- Fetch the native!
- Fetch the change!
- Aww… is that your finger of death? Here’s mine
- Et tu Fandango?
- You have some barks on your hands.
- Ruff texture
- Couldn’t give two woofs.
- Thank me for my love!
- He really does love me!
- How narcissists and codependents ideate.
Entry to this week’s 3LineTales! Image courtesy of Sonya.
One step forwards, two steps back. Do a one-eighty, trip on a crack.
The dead-ends frown, they forbid en mass. Rocks and hard places, litter the past.
But what to do? No way around. Lest fire he thought. Will fly like sound!