Desire-Part X-Loki and Pandora

Loki, emerald-colored skin as vibrant as ever, galloped up to the steps of The Hall of Earthly Gifts on his eight-legged horse.

Bacchus shuddered. “I will never get used to the look of that thing.”

“Home, Sleipnir,” Loki addressed the horse. The ungainly beast galloped off without objections.

The trickster god turned to his fallen peer. “Bacchie, baby, good to see you. You look skinny.”

“Why, Loki? Does that make you green with envy?”

“Oh I’ve never heard that one before.”

“I hear it’s not easy being green.”

“Did you have Vig invite me here just to make juvenile jokes at my expense?”

“No, but it’s a nice little perk of the situation.”

“You want me to help you or not, it makes no difference to me.”

“All right, my apologies. So how exactly do you plan to pull this off?”

“Don’t you worry. You do you’re Q and A thing with the Spinster Pandora and I’ll do my thing.”

The two headed up the stairs of the hall.

“Why doesn’t that make me feel any better?” Bacchus said.

Loki slipped around the back of the hall as Bacchus swung the brass knocker.

The enormous door opened, dwarfing the diminutive goddess who stood in its shadow. “Oh

Bacchus, sweetheart, you’re back?” She engulfed him in a hug.

“Well, not exactly, but I could use your help.”

She ushered him inside the entry salon and pushed the door closed behind them. “Anything for you. What can I help you with?”

“Well, I have some questions…About um, you know. The box.”

Questioning drew together her delicate features. “The box?”

“The box.”

“Oh oh oh, the box. Right.”

She led him straight to the vessel. For all its gilding and ornate carving, it didn’t seem an impressive or imposing object. The newly acquired phrase ‘bigger than a breadbox’ popped into Bacchus’ head, though if the thing were actually bigger than a breadbox, it wasn’t by much.

“Voila” She presented it to him with a flourish of her hands.

For all of Bacchus’ inspection of the thing, he couldn’t find a handle or lip of a lid, no hinges or fissure in the construction indicating that it was anything but a solid object.

“And this is the very box that was opened? You know doom on mankind—screaming, pain, suffering…” his voice trailed off.

“Yes. The very one.”

“How exactly does it open?”

Pandora fished a key from her pocket and walked over to the box.

“Whoa, should you open that?” Bacchus asked.

“Oh yes, it’s perfectly harmless now.”

“Won’t hope escape?’

“Hope?”

“You know, the evils escape out of the box, but the lid is closed before hope can escape therefore mankind always has hope.”

“Hope isn’t a specter. It can’t escape, silly boy. Hope is what the box is made of.”

The goddess proceeded to release some hidden lock. A keypad of sorts popped up with ancient Greek symbols in bas-relief. Her fingers skipped over the symbols touching them in a specific sequence. An ethereal voice emanated from the box and asked Pandora, “What walks on four legs in the morning, two legs in the afternoon, and three legs in the evening?”

“Man,” Pandora replied.

The box rearranged itself into a golden lotus, its petals splayed out around a gaping, hollow center.

“That looks an awful lot like a—” Bacchus murmured.

Pandora nodded and suppressed a giggle. “It does, doesn’t it?”

“Pardon me for asking this, Madame Pandora, but how in Hades did you open this box by accident all those eons ago? It seems well designed against an unintentional breech.”

“What? I opened the box? Oh no, I knew better than to open this box.”

“Really? It’s the only version of the story I’ve ever heard.”

“Well you are very young as gods go. No, it wasn’t I who opened the box. It was Lucifer. And he didn’t open it by accident.” Pandora paused to sniff the air. “Do you smell blueberry muffins?”

Bacchus took a half-hearted whiff. “Um, no. I’m afraid I don’t.”

“I love blueberry muffins. I have some over in the Culinary Gifts wing. Would you like me to fetch you some with a little tea?”

“No, thank you.”

“How silly of me, you don’t even drink tea, do you? Would you like some of your own gift to the world? What wine would one serve with a blueberry muffin?”

“Riesling, but thank you, Madame. I’m fine. So, you were saying…?”

“What was I saying? Oh yes, blueberry muffins. Did I tell you about the streusel?”

“Yes, you did, sounds like wonderful stuff.” Bacchus fibbed to move the conversation along.

“Now, why did Lucifer open the box?”

“He was angry.”

“Why was he angry?”

“Some adolescent temper tantrum. The Father had thrown over Lucifer’s mother, Gabriella, for a human woman—Ellie or Ava or Eve, something like that.”

“And how did you get the blame for it?”

“Well, I am the keeper of all earthly gifts, am I not? And hope is an amazing essence. It was The Mother’s greatest gift to the mortals. Nothing evil can breech it so The Sorrows were fixed tight until Luci showed up…Honestly I had no idea he meant to do anything wrong. He was such a beautiful young man, all dimples and blond curls. He asked me to sneak an apple for him…I shouldn’t have left him alone here, but how could I have known?” The crinkled edges of her eyes caught the tears that threatened to spill over.

Bacchus cupped the aging divinity’s face in his hands. A pang of guilt stabbed at him, but he reminded himself the box he intended to steal would be put to good use, not evil. “No no, my sweet lady, you did nothing wrong. Lucifer tricked you, he used you.”

“The Council didn’t quite see it that way. I spent two centuries in Purgatory before they let me return to my post here.”

“Of the few weaknesses The Father has, his son is his greatest. He couldn’t very well let his own son take the fall for unleashing The Sorrows.”

“I suppose you’re right. But Lucifer wound up falling into Darkness anyway.”

“Yes, that he did.” The fallen god reached in his pocket and pulled out a cotton handkerchief. With the gentlest of touches, he dabbed away the goddess’ tears. “No more thoughts of unpleasant things now. Hey, why don’t you tell me a little more about streusel?”

She clapped her hands together. “Oh my, there’s just so much to tell I hardly know where to start.”

“Could you explain to me the difference between ‘streusel’ and ‘strudel’?”

“My dear boy, they are vastly different things. Streusel is the crumbly topping one would put on a cake or pie or muffin. Strudel is a type of pastry filled with fruit. Or cheese. Or nutmeats. You can, of course, put streusel on a strudel, that’s extra lovely.“You know who loves a good strudel? Charon. Especially apple. He drops in from time to time for some between ferry runs. Oh how I love a man in black.”

to be continued...

Desire-Part IX-Vignesha's Crib

Bacchus felt the vibrations of the music before he actually heard it. The raucous strains shook the heavens around him. Swathes of jewel-studded toile hung from every turret, every column, every balustrade of Vig’s not-so-humble abode. Scantily clad apsaras materialized around him as he walked up the sapphire path to the main entryway.

“Ladies,” he said and nodded at them. Their reply—only a tinkling of giggles. Tempted to give himself over to the charms of their coconut-scented skin, Bacchus managed to wade through the sea of beauties.

Servants appeared to attend to Bacchus: one to open the massive white marble doors, one to take his cloak, and one to offer him any number of divine concoctions. He chose a flute of vibrant lavender syrup. An apsara, who was nude save for the gold leaf covering her body, intertwined her arm with his and escorted him through the opulent receiving hall to the lush oasis out back.
Liquid-silver waves lapped at the shore of a ruby sand beach. Golden palm trees reached up into the endless blue velvet sky. Countless merrymakers frolicked in the surf and danced around almost every square inch of open space. Bacchus took a moment to adjust to the grandeur of it all. His human senses could barely handle the splendor surrounding him.

Parting the crowd of bodies, his lovely guide led him into a private tent, set apart from the raging party. Vignesha lay in all his glory on a brocade hammock, receiving a saffron oil rub down from the most beautiful of celestial nymphs.

Vig’s eyes fluttered open at the sound of approaching feet. “Bro, you made it up here. How awesome.”

“Thanks. I see you’re still living large.”

“You know it. Pull up a chair. I’ll order up some more drinks, get some more nymphs in here.”

“You’re too gracious, old friend, but I was hoping I could speak to you alone.”

Jumping up from the table, Vig didn’t bother to cover his bare body, but instead walked the shapely women to the tent opening. After kissing each of their hands, he said, “Don’t go too far now.” They disappeared in twittering laughter.

“It’s just not the same without you here.” Vig put his arm around Bacchus’ shoulder, enormous phallus flopping from right to left. “Oops, just grazed you with my naked bits, didn’t I?”

Bacchus chuckled. “Think nothing of it.”

They settled into a pile of large of satin pillows.

“So, what’s up?” Vig asked.

After taking a long sip from his drink, Bacchus launched into the events that had transpired earlier.

“Antithesia is trying to help you? Dude, you are so screwed. Aw, righteous, that rhymed,” Vig said.

“I know. But I’m desperate. The fact that I’m even considering advice from that fork-tongued battle-axe should tell you that much,” Bacchus replied.

“I hear ya. Well, it’s like this. Everybody on Earth’s got their own Pandora’s box, Sorrows box, whatever you call it, man, they are forbidden to leave the palace.”

“What does the box do?”

“Captures Sorrows. But if you really want to know the whole scoop on the boxes, you have to talk to Pandora. She’s got loads of box knowledge.”

“Do you think she’ll make an exception and give me Arianna’s?”

“Nah, bro. She can’t, and don’t put her in that position because she’d get herself in trouble trying to help. She’s sweet like that.”

“So I’m screwed.”

“Well, there’s one god who might be able to help you cuz he don’t give a flip what trouble he gets in.”

“Oh no, you’re not talking about…”

“Loki. Yeah, he’d probably steal it for you, but you gotta keep your eyes peeled while you’re there. Who knows what other crap he’ll try to stir up.”

“I don’t know that I can in my current condition.”

“Well, you dudes get caught, don’t leave Madame Pandora out to dry. You feeling me?”

“You have my word.”

“Cool. I’ll send Loki your way. The Mother and The Father be with you, bro.”

Desire-Part VIII-Pandora's Box

The fallen god’s mind raced as he trotted down the steps of the Pantheon. So many plans to make, so much to do before he returned to his earthly lair. A hiss of breath drew his attention. Upon viewing the serpentine lady in the shadows, a sneer darkened Bacchus’ face.

“And what may I do for you, Antithesia?”

“Is that how you greet an old acquaintance who’s trying to help you?”

Bacchus let out a yelp of mocking laughter. “That’ll be the day.”

“I know we’ve had our differences, but well, surely we can bury the hatchet for a moment. I have some information that may be of help to you in your endeavor.”

“Oh really? And just why would you be interested in helping me? It’s my understanding that you were instrumental in getting me tossed.”

“What? No, I wasn’t a part of this. It is true that I’ve not been your biggest advocate, but if The Council can defrock you then, who’s to say which one of us could be next, savez-vous?”

“I see you’ve taken a self-serving stance on all this then.”

“Well if it serves you and serves me at the same time then that’s a win-win situation.”

“I suppose it is.”

“You, my silly little boy, are charged with the task of becoming this woman’s savior—freeing her from her worldly suffering, correct?”

“In a nutshell.”

“What The Council failed to tell you is that there’s a shortcut you can use to help her achieve enlightenment.”

Bacchus held up an impatient hand. “Not interested.”

“How do you know you’re not interested if you won’t let me explain?”

“I know the general consensus around here is that I’m not very bright, but even I know enough to be wary of this wooden horse.”

“So be it.” The snake-like goddess rattled her tail. “Go about it the old-fashioned way. But did you know The Council also failed to tell you that humans are pathetically slow creatures when it comes to change. Saving her soul could take a lifetime, three lifetimes, a hundred lifetimes. It would be a pity if you perished before you could move the wretched woman into the light.”

Antithesia turned to retreat, but not with haste, more with an arrogant slither. Clearly she knew her new and strange bedfellow would call her back to him. And Bacchus knew it too. Were he in his immortal form, he’d have all the time in the world to help his lovely Arianna, but as a human his time was limited. A mere blink of a cosmic eye. And Bacchus had little experience with hands-on ministrations. He’d need all the help he could get, even from the most unlikely of sources.

“Wait, Antithesia, please.”

“Yes, Bacchus, dear? What can I do for you?”

“Tell me about the shortcut.”

“What shortcut?”

“Tell me about the shortcut. Please.”

“How can I resist someone who isn’t too proud to beg? The key to wrapping up all of this quickly is your little friend’s Sorrows box.”

“Sorrows box?” he’d replied.

“Please tell me you do know what that is.”

Bacchus cleared his throat, hoping to cover his ignorance. “Of course. Should’ve thought of it myself.”

“Well, sounds like you don’t need my help, then. Good luck.” She patted his chest. “You’re going to need it, queenie.”The look on the goddess’ face as she disappeared into a cloud of sparkling black rain disturbed Bacchus. Something told him he would need more than luck, but for now, he’d settle for a little more info about the Sorrows box. Time to pay a visit to Vignesha.

Desire-Part VII-The Council

Pan sat with Bacchus outside the Pantheon Hall. His cloven hooves couldn’t reach the floor and clattered against the sides of the granite bench.

“Please stop that,” Bacchus said between bouts of gnawing on his fingernails.

“Of course, Sire.”

An angelic page poked her head out the gilded doors of the Pantheon. “The Council is ready for you, Bacchus.”

Pan hopped down to accompany his master inside, but the page held up a hand.

“Just Bacchus, I’m afraid.”

“Oh, well, as the humans say, Sire, I hope you break a leg.”

“We shall see.”

Bacchus had been summoned to the Pantheon Hall only a handful of times in his reign as a god.
Usually it involved some sort of Bacchanal run amuck, and he’d never been formally censured. To be on trial, fighting for his place back among his peers left his mouth dry and his hands damp.
A gulp from his wineskin settled his nerves. He executed an unsteady bow in front of The Father and The Mother.

“Very clever using prayer to communicate your desire to meet,” The Father said.

“Thank you, My Lord. I thought so too.”

“Arrogance before The Council will not be tolerated,” Antithesia snapped.

“Easy, Anti, Bacchus means no harm,” The Father replied. “We’re here today to entertain an
appeal to the decision that Bacchus no longer belongs to the world of the divine for the greater good of our children. Who’s speaking the arguments against the proposal?”

Carpenter spoke up after brushing his wild hair from his face, “I am. No hard feelings, Brother Bacchus.”

The fallen god shrugged. Carpenter in the past had supported Bacchus. Antithesia must have appealed to the emaciated divinity’s infatuation with abstinence and asceticism, but at least Bacchus could trust Carpenter to play fair.

“Our greatest concern is for the purity of our children’s souls. Intoxication all too often leads to the debauchery and decadence that lines the path to Darkness. Overindulgence leads to fornication and fouls the vessels from which new life should spring. Rampant fornication leads to disease and death, two of the most powerful Sorrows. I’m sorry my loyal friend, but I feel in every fiber of my being that our children are better off without your influence.”

Bacchus considered Carpenter’s words.

“All valid points, my friend. I’m sure I need not remind you that my gift of wine once helped protect them from disease and death by purifying the water essential to their survival.” Bacchus made a veiled reference to his role in one of Carpenter’s greatest displays of power. “And having lived among them, you and I know better than any here how Darkness can consume them, but they are also capable of such joy and my gifts are part of that joy. They celebrate happy occasions with champagne. And did you know they even have children who are called ‘wine babies’?”

“Wine babies?” The Mother asked.

“Children who are conceived by chance after a night of revelry.”

“How charming.” The Mother reached out an ebony hand to caress Bacchus’ cheek. Warmth and delight spread through him and tears sprang into his eyes. So long had he labored against the icy chill in his heart. He now knew that Hades was not a fiery pit, but a cold, desolate state of mind that overtook the soul when it was distanced from the love of The Father and The Mother.

Emboldened the fallen god went on, “And I’m not asking for a blanket invitation back into the fold. But at least give me a chance to prove myself. Let me show my worth to The Council. If I can help just one soul overcome The Sorrows, then may I be reinstated?”

Bodhi’s face lit up with a wider than usual grin. “I think that is a fair proposal.”

“Well said.” Carpenter nodded.

“Let’s put this to a vote, “ said The Father. “All in favor?”

A chorus of ‘yeas’ rippled over the majority of Council members.

“All those opposed?” asked The Mother.

A smattering of ‘nays’ popped up within the ranks of The Council.

“So shall it be,” The Father and The Mother said in unison. “The will of the Council has spoken.”

“Who chooses the soul in question?” hissed Antithesia.

“Well, I already have someone in mind,” Bacchus replied.The Council looked into the Oracle and saw Bacchus’ dark beauty, still deep in slumber.