Authors: Clea Hantman
A
rtemis
and Apollo appeared with a poof in front of Hades, king of the underworld. He was in the middle of a lavish feast. Sitting at the head of his thirty-foot-long wooden table, he was shoving food into his mouth as quickly as a starved piglet in a giant trough of soupy slop. Spittle and food particles were flying in every direction. Grease was dripping off the table, off his fingers, off his long white beard.
When he saw that Artemis and a “friend” were before him, he quickly extended a greasy hand to Apollo, who reluctantly shook it and tried to “introduce” himself (since he clearly didn’t look like Apollo). But Hades was too busy to pay attention. He was eyeing Artemis fondly. The king went in for a kiss from the goddess, but she took one quick step backward and bowed instead.
“Nicely done,” whispered Apollo, who noticed her fast moves.
“Sir,” addressed Artemis, “this is in fact Apollo, my dear brother, in mortal form.”
“Oh, Apollo! Well, come here, my good boy,” and with that Hades grabbed Apollo by the shoulders and pulled him in close. Apollo could feel the grease on his thick neck and behind his ears. He wanted to wipe it off his hands and face, but he didn’t want to appear rude, so he refrained.
“So nice of you two to drop in. Please, join me in my midafternoon snack. I’ve got loads of goodies here.” He placed a hand to the side of his mouth and yelled, “Cook, bring out the deep-fried bat’s wings!” Then he turned back to the twins. “You’ll love these—she makes a delightful dipping sauce that’s to die for!”
“No, we didn’t come for food, but—” Apollo was interrupted.
“Nonsense! You must eat something. Why, that mortal body looks all skin and bones. How about some dragon eggs—they’ve been fried in butter, but they’re not too greasy! Oh, I have this new delicacy; it was flown in from the Orient—it’s mosquito knees. They’re so tiny, but oh, so delicious! Try them, please.” Hades shoved a tremendous silver platter under Apollo’s nose. Apollo could only see microscopic specks on the plate.
“Um, okay, how do I eat them?”
“Scoop them up with a fingernail like this,” and Hades pointed his pinkie down at the platter. His nail was sharp and at least three inches long. Apollo looked at his own nails. They were so short, they couldn’t have picked up a mosquito knee if he’d attached beeswax to them.
“Right, so, Hades, I come with a favor to ask.”
“Oh, sorry, no favors today. I never grant favors on Tuesday, so how about trying one of these cyclops chips? They’re made from the toenails of a cyclops. Cook soaks them for days and then—”
“Sir, it’s Wednesday. Not Tuesday. It’s Wednesday,” said Apollo, careful not to offend but impatient nonetheless.
“Nonsense. It’s Tuesday; I’m sure of it. So after they soak for three weeks and a day, then Cook fries them up in a vat of oil made from the sacred blue olive tree. It makes for a delightful—”
“Sir,” interrupted Artemis, who heretofore had kept quiet, “it’s actually Wednesday, I assure you. Won’t you please hear my brother out? He has a favor to ask, one of dire consequences.”
“Huh, Wednesday. Hmmm, so it is. Well, sorry, no favors on Wednesday, either.”
“Please,” begged Artemis. “Hera has done—”
But the king interrupted her. “Hera? Ohhh, I hate her. What’d she do?”
“Well, Hera has done something very underhanded and terribly evil—you must help my brother, Apollo, please,” and this last part she said in her sweetest voice, a tone she rarely used for anyone. “Please…for me.”
“Well, I do despise Hera…but I love evil! What a conundrum! Hmmm, okay, do tell, but I make no guarantees that I can help,” said the king.
“Thank you, Your Highness,” said Apollo, and he began to tell his story. “As you may or may not know, some time ago Hera had three of the Muses—Era, Polly, and my beloved Thalia—banished to earth. Well, Zeus actually sent them, but he never intended for them to stay long. And, well, he accidentally sent them into the future…and to the United States of America.”
“That Zeus,” whispered Hades with a raised eyebrow, “you know, I think he may be losing it, just a weeeeee bit.”
“Well, perhaps. Now, Hera had other plans. She and Zeus made the girls’ using their powers against the rules. And then she sent the Furies down to watch the girls, or rather to trick them into using their magic.”
“Oh, and those Furies are good, aren’t they,” said Hades, “good and
evil
—how I adore them. I let them have free run of the place, you know.”
“Yes, so I’ve heard. In any case, the Muses did use their powers, and now Hera has whisked Zeus off to an island vacation and secretly banished the girls to Tartarus.”
“Fabulous!” cried the king. “So we have a few Muses living among us; how delightful! Maybe I can have them over for some supper one night. Cook makes a mean battered and fried gnome. They’re so tender!”
Apollo cringed. “No, see, I would like to get the girls
out
of Tartarus.”
“But why?” asked the king, who was earnestly dumbstruck why anyone wouldn’t want to live underground, in the underworld.
“You know perfectly well that the Furies have it in for the Muses. I’m sure they plan on making them their slaves. These girls, Era, Polly, Thalia—they did nothing seriously wrong. They aren’t dead, yet they live within your world. It isn’t right.”
“Yes, perhaps, but this is a lovely place to spend eternity. You do not dare to criticize my kingdom?”
“No, of course not. It’s just that, well…”
“I cannot disobey Hera’s command. Besides, the laws state that kings may not trump queens, and queens may not trump kings. It’s a rule. Sorry.”
“But sorry isn’t good enough!” yelled Apollo. He shouldn’t have been so brash, but his emotions were getting the better of him.
“King,” Artemis interrupted, throwing Apollo a look. “Your Royal Highness, maybe you cannot override her decree, but you could anger her sufficiently and succinctly by undermining her plans a bit.”
“Hmmm, I like the sound of that. Go on.”
“Well, if you just let us into Tartarus, that would infuriate Hera.”
“Is that so?”
“It would be quite the practical joke to frustrate Hera’s efforts by aiding my brother in finding the girls. Don’t you think?”
“Yes, that does sound amusing!”
“And you could even further aid Apollo by giving him his powers back and turning him back into his godlike form. That would be the best joke of all!”
“No, we wouldn’t want to do that. He looks so funny in that costume. It’s a delight, really.”
“Yes, but…” Artemis was getting impatient with Hades’ nonsense. She couldn’t help wondering how this man had become a king. “Hades, Your Highness, what about his powers?”
“No, no, can’t do anything about those, either. I don’t want to push it too far with Zeus and Hera. But I would love to get that old bat in a tizzy—you know, pull one over on her—so I will allow you, Apollo, to enter Tartarus. But Artemis, you may not join him. He must go it alone.”
“With no powers?” asked Apollo.
“With no powers,” said the king. “That’s the best I’ll offer.”
“Is there nothing you can give Apollo to help in his quest—anything at all, sir?” begged Artemis. “Trust me when I say, I am sure any small token of help will be quite frustrating to Hera. She will be disastrously depressed and maniacally morose!”
“Hmmm, morose? Depressed? Well, okay.” Hades rubbed his greasy fingers together, and
poof,
a helmet appeared in a puff of smoke. “This is my magic helmet. It will make the wearer invisible. It will help you navigate your way through the maze of Tartarus.”
“Oh, thank you, sir, thank you.” Apollo began to bow furiously.
“This will at least conceal your identity—not that anyone would recognize you in that silly getup—and it will get you past the guards, even the Furies themselves. But I must warn you, the helmet will not protect you from the gatekeepers.”
“The gatekeepers?”
“They are the keepers of the riddles and are here to stop intruders from lollygagging and loitering. They can stop you at any time, anywhere. And when they do, you must answer their infinitely frustrating riddles to move on or POOF, you’re gone!”
Apollo gulped. He wasn’t so great at tests, especially not without his powers to help him.
“And remember, I’m strict about my rules. Once you’ve been here for twenty-four hours, you’re mine, got that? It’s just the way it is. You’ll have to find your own way out before that time is up.” Hades placed the tips of his fingers together. “Oh, such fun, what a game. I may have to grab a tub of these mosquito knees and watch the action!”
“Thank you, sir, thank you, indeed,” and Apollo nervously grabbed the magic helmet. “I guess this is good-bye, Artemis. Thank you for all your help—you are the best sister a god could ever ask for.”
“You are a fine brother, too.” Artemis wasn’t good with emotional good-byes. “Good luck. I am sure you will do adequately.” Apollo kissed her on her cheek and hugged her tight, and she disappeared.
“Now,” said Hades, “I will count to six, and you will appear just inside the gates of Tartarus. You must find your own way to the lair of the Furies. I assume that’s where your precious girls are.”
“Again, thank you. I’m sure Hera will feel sufficiently put out by all this.”
“Yes, yes, okay. One, two, three, four, five…oh, here, take this”—Hades shoved a gigantic deep-fried boar leg under Apollo’s arm—“you may get hungry…six!”
W
e
watched and waited as the Furies went on scheming in hushed voices. They went on so long that I got bored, so I distracted myself by staring at the zit on the tip of Tizzie’s nose, which bobbed up and down as she spoke. It was one of those beet red ones. You couldn’t help but stare at it.
“Stop!” Tizzie yelled, looking up from the huddle and rubbing self-consciously at her nose.
“What?” I said.
“You’re staring—stop!” she replied.
“Well, it’s just so huge!”
“Thalia!” yelled Polly. “Don’t stoop to their level. We’re ladies. Even if they aren’t.”
“But it is—it’s enormous. Gigantic. Tremendous. Humongous!”
Now, this was fun. I didn’t see what keeping my mouth shut was going to do for us, anyway. They already had it in for us. They weren’t going to spare us because all of a sudden we happened to be ladylike and charming. We were doomed. At the very least, I should have the pleasure of being snotty.
Tizzie began to shake with anger.
“Maybe we’ll get lucky, Pol,” I said through the corner of my mouth. “Maybe we can drive them so insane, they’ll
want
to let us go.”
Insane? Well, perhaps. Now bring out the Venus flytraps!
It took a moment, but our bare concrete room became crowded with Venus flytraps. Snapping Venus flytraps, the kind the cyclops of North Cyprus are famous for growing. One snapped at Polly and got a piece of her skirt. She jumped away with a gasp.
The Furies cackled and then cleared their throats.
Now that you’re our slaves,
we’ll list all your chores.
Here are the tasks that you now have in store.
Toilets must be scrubbed at least ten times a day,
And the floors need your attention,
in a most particular way.
There are dishes and pots and clothes to be washed
And slimy house lizards that need to be squashed.
Now, on to the cooking, meals must be gourmet.
We expect fancy food, an entire buffet.
Gratiné, crudité, consommé, flageolet!
Cassoulet, canapé, pâté, and flambé!
“Oh…” Era was crying. “Thalia…can…cook.” How uncharacteristic of Era to find sarcasm in the midst of a crisis. And at my expense, too.
We enjoy it very much when our feet are massaged,
And our boils must be lanced and then camouflaged.
Make sure to remove all the gook
twixt our toes,
Then rub your noses in it like Eskimos.
“The Eskimo people kiss with their noses; they do not rub noses to feet,” said Polly very matter-of-factly, a single tear falling from her eye. But the Furies just laughed.
I was actually finding the whole thing slightly comical, but my sisters were not. The idea that Era would clean anyone’s feet—even her own—was enough to make her go into a fit of hysterics. And while Polly would have gladly cleaned up after people she thought
were deserving and good, she couldn’t bear the idea of making life prettier for the Horrible Ones.
There’s something green growing
at the Tartarus trash heap.
We’ll have it carted in since the smell
will make you weep.
Then you must deflea our tigers and
groom our pet moth.
(He’s special—he has fangs and
a loud, hacking cough).
If you get thirsty, we’ll kindly oblige
with water from the Acheron, gathered at low tide.
The smelly moaning wet stuff is yours to guzzle,
And if you act out, we’ll put you all in a muzzle!
Now they’d gone too far—we had to drink that cruddy water? My two sisters were even more devastated than I was. Their tears had gotten the better of them, and they had fallen to their knees and were sobbing. I swelled with anger. Not just at the Furies, but at myself. This was all my fault.
You’ve got your list, you know what to do.
Don’t look so sad, ladies, don’t look so blue.
You only have to wait on us hand and foot
Forever and eternity…your lives are kaput!
I looked at Polly and Era, and Polly looked at Era and me, and then Era looked at me and Polly. Then she looked back at the Furies. And then she let out one heck of a scream.
“DADDDYYYYYYYYYYYYY!!!!!!!!!!”