While the other gods and goddesses are getting jobs and finally acclimating themselves into the mortal world, I find myself in a bit of a funk. Unlike the rest, I’ve had a job for years! Being stuck here, you realize quickly that you have to blend in to get things done. A few years back, I got my cosmetology license and a year after I bought a shop on main street amongst a strip of small businesses. Nothing fancy or flashy, just something to pass the time. I find it amusing how easily you can whisper into the ear of an unsuspecting client and change their course. “I’ve heard your husband’s been with so-and-so …” is really all it takes. Then you meet up with the husband for a romp, accidentally dial the wife’s number during the deed, and poof! Game over! Their lives are forever changed and it’s all thanks to you. Sorry not sorry, Mortals. You truly deserve what you get … especially from me. Where’s my statue? Where’s my worship?
Eh … I’m getting off track. Back to my funk, which in reality has been a long time coming. It all started this past New Year’s when Hades threw a party and I was asked to return to the Pantheon.
It was awkward to say the least.
Coming stag was not necessarily what I wanted, but the only men in my life at the time were mortals … not exactly welcomed to a party with the gods trying to snag us for themselves. I noticed Hades all night and yet his eyes never met mine. I guess it’s understandable as he was the host, but am I not even good enough to gawk at? I’m beginning to think Aphrodite doesn’t care much for me as I noticed her many side eyes that night. Then, Zeus cornered me. I assumed it would be for a fling I was not interested in, but instead he dropped a lot on me. He explained that he was my father and he had been giving my mother money to assist me during my banishment.
If I didn’t have daddy issues already, I certainly reopened that treasured wound after that evening! And as days passed, I found my initial anger grew into an acceptance and a realization I’ve been gone for so long that I mean nothing to this group. They don’t fear me because they don’t remember me. They don’t love me because they don’t know who I am. And in this predicament, what’s a goddess to do y’know?
This was when I decided I was done being the quiet child stuck in timeout for an eternity. This was when I realized the only way to get things done (and done MY way) was to stir the pot a bit too briskly.
In the months following, I started some rumors and caused a bit of grief. It went well, but everyone blamed the fates or each other. No one even thought to point the finger at me. I realized I needed to up my game … and then a bit of luck happened.
My shop is next to a coffee shop. I used it for years to gain clients and it came in handy to enjoy a cup of caffeinated heaven every morning. A frequent visitor, I noticed they hired a new barista. Victor Alvarez. His twenty-something tan skin made my mouth water the first time I saw him. His big, brown eyes following the length of my deep, red hair. Initially, I thought to have a nice night as I casually smiled and left him my number on a receipt. Then, I realized what I needed to do. This plan would not only assist in the other gods and goddesses remembering me, but also get the one god I wanted more than anything to eye me up and down.
After getting dinner with Victor, we went to a cheap motel where I drew him in close. Of course, he thought he knew where this was going. For a moment, I thought it would go there until my plan started to scream in my mind. He had to go. I talked him into the blindfold, told him I liked to be in charge. I heard no argument when I handcuffed him. Everything was going well until I pulled out my shears and ran them into his neck. Plunging the blades deep into his throat over and over; puncturing the skin and arteries as the blood drained around his head like a halo. Watching the life leave his body, I dialed 9-1-1 and awaited the police as Victor’s screaming had stopped, his breath softened to a whisper until the spirit left the body. As the officer’s showed, I told them I was the maid and had found him. As my bloody shears remained in my hand, I smiled as the cops bought into my story. Of course, they did. They had to. I have the ability to make them believe what I want. I’m a goddess after all!
Walking out, a smile crept along my face as I placed my tools back into my pocket. And now I wait. I wait to see how this all plays out. This is the part I hate. Stuck in limbo, awaiting to hear the outcome. Even now, as I write this, I contemplate how this will all come out. What will the gods think of me now? Will they remember me after my plan plays out?
I guess we’ll see.
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