didn't ring true. I did not trust a word the gnome said.
‘I think you are lying to us, Priapus,’ I said angrily.
‘No, no, it's the truth, honestly,’ he whimpered.
‘Oh, I don't think so. When Hera originally banished you from Olympus, she made you impotent, as I just said. That being so, how were you going to impregnate my daughter?’
‘That...that was part of the deal. Hera would remove the curse only for me to screw Persephone as a punishment for you marrying Demeter. If I did that, Hera promised to remove her curse permanently and let me stay on the mountain. Now, thanks to you, I am finished here. You have ruined me and my life. Now I have no option but to become mortal and join you in the mortal world. I must...’
‘What!’ Demeter shouted. ‘What possible use would a disgusting imbecile like you be in the mortal world? You would be an insult to the mortals’ God.’
‘But Persephone said that I would be a natural for some place in California...what was it called?’ he asked, turning pleadingly to Perse.
‘Hollywood,’ Persephone replied, without looking at him.
‘That’s right, Hollywood. She said I could become a film producer and audition all the beautiful young women who wanted to become film stars. I’d be so good at that. And I’m well known in the mortal world already. There are statues of me all over the place...’
‘Statues of you?’ Demeter asked, not convinced. ‘I can’t recall seeing any.’
‘But they are in gardens everywhere...’
‘I think he means garden gnomes,’ Persephone said and started giggling.
‘Priapus, listen to me very carefully,’ Demeter said coldly. ‘The mortal world is on the verge of self-destruction morally, socially and physically. It is imperative that we make the United States the moral and spiritual leader of the mortal world with subservience only to the mortals’ God. No other country can do that. That is our principal goal, although we have many others. To achieve that goal, we must eliminate people with your attitudes and despicable morals because they are undermining the very moral fabric of mortal society. You, and others like you, serve no useful purpose in the mortal world. There is no place for you there.’
‘But...but you can’t do this to me...you can’t leave me here. Hera said that she will banish me to crawl on the bottom of the oceans for eternity, if I fail...’ Priapus wailed.
‘You have failed,’ I snapped. ‘I hope you can swim. Anyway, I doubt Poseidon will want you in his domain.’
‘Oh, he has already said that he will support Hera...’
‘What!’ Demeter gasped, clearly stunned by the news. ‘You mean Poseidon is here?’
‘Yeah...Oh! Didn't you know? Hasn't he been to see you? Well, I wonder what that can mean?’ Priapus sneered.
Demeter angrily turned to face me. ‘Do you know that Posey is here?’ she demanded.
‘Of course, I know. Posey is a major part of our grand plan.’
I didn't like lying to Demeter and rarely needed to, but I didn't want this vulgar little creature thinking that he had caused a rift between me and Demeter. ‘Sorry, darling, I thought I had told you. It must have slipped my mind.’
‘You think you are so high and mighty,’ Priapus fumed. ‘Zeus, the god of gods; Zeus, the mortal man; Zeus, the savior of the mortal world. Oh, but there are many on Olympus who want to see you fall; who want to see the back of you for good. Hera to start with, yet she is not alone. And now you can’t even be sure of your own brother, Poseidon, can you? Where will it all end?’
‘Priapus, I think it is time you booked a passage with Charon,’ I said none too gently. To my surprise, he began laughing hysterically. I could not imagine why my cruel reference to the Ferryman of Hades, who takes souls across the River Styx, should cause such a reaction.
‘And whose side do you suppose Charon is on since he turned mortal?’ Priapus replied, tears now streaming down his face. ‘You are so innocent, so out of touch, it is laughable.’
Chapter 5
Noah saw them first: two white men in jeans and short-sleeved shirts, standing on the bank of the Anacostia River. The men, seemingly engrossed in studying the contents of a large plastic bottle containing some of the river’s polluted water, didn’t appear to notice the two black youths.
Nearly fifty percent of the population of Washington, D.C. is African-American. In Southeast Washington, across the polluted Anacostia River before it flows into the Potomac River, the percentage of blacks is considerably higher, much nearer one-hundred percent than fifty.
Named after the Anacostan Native Americans who used to inhabit its banks, the river was once one of the most polluted in North America. Even so, despite its still unhealthy condition, the banks of the river are very popular recreational areas.
The state of the river didn’t concern the two black teenagers, Noah and his elder brother, Merc. What they had their eyes on was a man-bag hanging temptingly and insecurely from a white man’s belt. On a signal from Merc, Noah slid down the bank and plunged noisily into the water about ten yards from where the two men were standing.
‘Help! Help! I can’t swim,’ Noah yelled in a heartrending performance of a drowning youth; had he been on the silver screen, he would have been nominated for an Oscar for sure.
The two white men immediately dropped the plastic bottle and raced to Noah’s aid. They knelt by the bank and tried to grab Noah’s arms as he threshed about in the murky water, apparently gripped by panic. Suddenly, Noah’s wildly flailing hands grabbed an arm of each of the white men. Panic stricken, he held on tightly but seemed to resist their efforts to pull him to the bank.
Meanwhile, Merc, sharp knife in hand, quietly crept up behind the two men. With amazing deftness, he cut the thin cord holding the man-bag and slid away with his prize without either of the two men noticing him.
When Noah saw that his brother was well away, his panic seemed to increase so violently that he pulled the two men into the river on top of him. Virtually climbing over his two saviors, Noah scrambled up the bank and raced after his brother. He found him behind the recreational buildings impatiently revving the motor of a stolen Vespa scooter.
**
Two hours later, Noah, now in dry tee-shirt and jeans, and his brother, Merc, were sitting in a cubicle in Dion’s rundown diner no more than half-a-mile from the river, when the proprietor, a large African-American with a big belly and a gray-flecked goatee beard, sidled up to them.
‘Well, well, now what have you two lowlifes been up to today, I wonder?’ Dion, the proprietor, asked plonking his large frame on the bench opposite the brothers.
‘We ain’t been doing nothing,’ Merc protested.
‘Now I find that hard to believe because you two boys only come in here when you’re flush with ill-gotten gains. So why don’t you show Uncle Dion what you’ve got there?’ Dion asked.
‘You ain’t our uncle,’ Noah objected.
