![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Oh, Goddess of Inspiration! Help me sing of wiley Osmannius, that master of schemes!
Even though we all love Osmannius, he alone of the Utica heroes has been waylaid on his journey home from the drug dealer's apartment in Harlem.
When he put out the eyes of the giant Browclops, he provoked the wrath of the God of Strokequakes.
And now Osmannius languishes on the lonely island of the nymph Columbia Presbyterian, pining for home. Is that your will, Zeus/Doug?
"You know very well it isn't," replies the Drunk Uncle of gods.
Then send your herald, Arties, flying to Columbia Presbyterian. Make her let Osmannius go. Binding on his magic Birkenstocks, Arties skims over the waves to the island paradise where the nymph has detained Osmannius.
She's suprised by the visit but extends hospitality before asking its cause.
Seating Hermes, she puts before him nectar and ambrosia, the sustenance of the gods. He denies her hospitality, not out of spite, but because he's straight edge and vegan.
"I'm not here because I enjoy crossing the desolate sea," says Arties. "I bring a message from Zeus/Doug: Send Osmannius home."
"You jealous gods! Can't you bear to see one of us keep a mortal of her own? Especially one with such fine nipples?" cries Columbia Presbyterian.
"Oh very well, there's no arguing with Zeus/Doug. Seriously, he'll come over and drink all my beers."
Columbia Presbyterian knows where to find Osmannius. Every day for the last seven days he's sat on the same room in the stroke floor gazing out to sea, weeping for home and Pain Medication.
"Very well then, you may go."
"What kind of trick is this?" asks Osmannius, who is famous for tricks himself. "You'll understand if I'm suspicious."
"No trick. I swear by Styx."
Columbia Presbyterian kept her promise, and Osmannius returned home to Utica to find his Amandellopie in the arms of large breasted suitors.
Athena transforms him into a unwashed stand-up comic as a disguise. Clad in a filthy tunic, he goes off to slaughter the suitors, as instructed by the goddess.
But, um... Osmannius couldn't do it because they were so pretty.
Even though we all love Osmannius, he alone of the Utica heroes has been waylaid on his journey home from the drug dealer's apartment in Harlem.
When he put out the eyes of the giant Browclops, he provoked the wrath of the God of Strokequakes.
And now Osmannius languishes on the lonely island of the nymph Columbia Presbyterian, pining for home. Is that your will, Zeus/Doug?
"You know very well it isn't," replies the Drunk Uncle of gods.
Then send your herald, Arties, flying to Columbia Presbyterian. Make her let Osmannius go. Binding on his magic Birkenstocks, Arties skims over the waves to the island paradise where the nymph has detained Osmannius.
She's suprised by the visit but extends hospitality before asking its cause.
Seating Hermes, she puts before him nectar and ambrosia, the sustenance of the gods. He denies her hospitality, not out of spite, but because he's straight edge and vegan.
"I'm not here because I enjoy crossing the desolate sea," says Arties. "I bring a message from Zeus/Doug: Send Osmannius home."
"You jealous gods! Can't you bear to see one of us keep a mortal of her own? Especially one with such fine nipples?" cries Columbia Presbyterian.
"Oh very well, there's no arguing with Zeus/Doug. Seriously, he'll come over and drink all my beers."
Columbia Presbyterian knows where to find Osmannius. Every day for the last seven days he's sat on the same room in the stroke floor gazing out to sea, weeping for home and Pain Medication.
"Very well then, you may go."
"What kind of trick is this?" asks Osmannius, who is famous for tricks himself. "You'll understand if I'm suspicious."
"No trick. I swear by Styx."
Columbia Presbyterian kept her promise, and Osmannius returned home to Utica to find his Amandellopie in the arms of large breasted suitors.
Athena transforms him into a unwashed stand-up comic as a disguise. Clad in a filthy tunic, he goes off to slaughter the suitors, as instructed by the goddess.
But, um... Osmannius couldn't do it because they were so pretty.