The Master of the Seas frilled his facial fins to their widest extent as he stomped determinedly forward. Well, okay, perhaps he didn’t stomp, but for a being whose lower body is primarily modeled after that of a fish, he made a convincing effort. An intimidating one, anyway.
“ARES,” Poseidon bellowed, causing underwater volcanoes to flee, quivering, above the surface for safety. “GET YOUR WORTHLESS HIDE DOWN HERE THIS INSTANT, YOUNG MAN.”
Nothing happened, save the frothing sound coming from a miserably frightened school of anglerfish, who, for the first time, were wishing that they didn’t have attention-grabbing lights attached to their heads.
Poseidon trembled in fury.
The ocean did the same.
The Fiji islands were born.
The Water Lord blinked his second pair of eyelids. The world went dark.
He opened all his eyelids. He was in a well-adorned tent, on the surface world. Jeweled weapons, shields, armor, elaborately sculpted and forged from the finest metals hung as with a similar context to a child’s drawings upon a refrigerator.
From behind Poseidon, there came several enthusiastic moans. He turned to find a red satin covered bed, occupied by a very large lump. The top of the lump kept moving back and forward. The bottom seemed to be squirming a bit, but not nearly as active.
Hydra infants are too smart to get stuck like that underneath a bedspread, he decided. And they never sounded this stupid:
“Oh, baby, I love you.”
“Shut the hell up, you stupid whore.”
“You’re the best! You’re an animal!”
“I’ve had better.”
“You’re amazing!”
“I hate you. You’re worthless.”
“There’s so much!”
“Is that all you’ve got?”
The Water King regally yet stealthily slithered forward and placed his trident butt onto a spot close to him on the upper lump, and gently began to apply pressure.
“Oh, Aph, that’s the goddamn spot,” sighed Ares.
“Ooooh…what?…ooooh…” Aphrodite focused, in an uncharacteristic moment of clarity.
Poseidon smirked and let a jet of particularly cold water shoot from his trident into the lump.
Ares flew from the bed, all his parts merrily flapping about in the air, his expression just as explosive as his reaction.
He landed on his feet with a heavy clunk, his heavy plate armor fully materialized on his sickeningly developed body. He twirled his two-handed broadsword in one hand.
“Ermm,” he said, upon seeing the identity of his assailant.
“Damn straight, hooligan.”
“What do you want, Uncle Po?”
“First, I want to know how in the hell you can put up with a floozy like that,” he gestured a webbed hand at Aphrodite, who, after precisely three point two seconds of surprise at the sudden lack of play, had started pleasing herself. “No gills,” he shuddered, “Where’s the eroticism? Where’s the love?”
“I tried that whole mermaid thing, Unc, but man, what a case of crabs!”
A magical “ba-dum-BUM” drum beat hit and the background filled with laughter.
“Laugh tracks,” Poseidon rolled his eyes, “SUCH a cheap move.”
“Oh, baby, I love you,” chimed in Aphrodite from the bed.
The War God looked longingly at the position of her right hand.
“Fine, stupid joke. What do you want?” he pleaded.
“Your ridiculous war is filling my precious oceans with man innards.”
“Your precious ocean is already filled with fish crap. What’s the problem?”
Poseidon lifted a fin on his back. There was a small thump.
“And now,” he grinned, “Your precious tent is filled with fish crap.”
“SO not cool,” exclaimed Ares.
“You’re the best! You’re an animal!”
“She memorizes lines well,” observed Poseidon.
“Guess you gotta know how to act, in a position like that,” remarked Ares, in a startling moment of near-empathy. “Godsdamn stupid women,” he redeemed himself.
“Now,” he started again, “You don’t like that men are dumping their bits and pieces in water, right?”
“Correct,” said Poseidon.
“Problem is, Hades doesn’t like men dumping their entrails into the soil.”
“…what?”
“Yep. Had a talk with me and whatnot. Used a few Very Large Words.”
“Well, what were some of them?”
“What, like I’m supposed to recall ‘em?”
“You’re amazing!” shrieked Aphrodite, prompting Ares’ memory.
“Said that since I’m a 'soulless function of mankind, those that willingly participate shouldn’t have the distinct privilege of having their mortal remains placed near an honorable shelter for souls,' ” he recollected, “Also mentioned the lousy smell the bodies make. Pretty descriptively, now that I think of it.” He frowned.
“But it’s the bleeding UNDERWORLD!” Poseidon fumed. “That’s where people are supposed to GO when they die! Not the sea! That’s not MY responsibility!”
“Ain’t mine, neither, Unc. I just skewer ‘em…it’s up to you Three to roast ‘em how you will. Any interest I have in the shish kabob afterwards is solely considered a hobby.”
“There’s SO much!”
Ares started sweating anxiously and staring back at the bed. Were Poseidon not tremulous with anger, he would have noticed layers of the War God’s armor slowly disappearing.
“Fine,” the Water King finally proclaimed. “I’ll take this up with that little weasel, Hades. Sorry to have squirted you in the bum, lad.”
“Ineverthoughtofitthatway, don’tworry,” said Ares as he virtually pounced back into bed.
“ ‘Enemathoughtavithatwy’?” Poseidon quoted, his mind, elsewhere. “Maybe just ‘enema’ will explain the situation, boy.”
And he disappeared from the tent with a splashing noise.
It went unnoticed, because Ares and Aphrodite were making similar sounds, between the two of them.
