Saturday Short: "The Incredibly Loud Odyssey" by @AMChenowith

Title: The Incredibly Loud Odyssey

Author: A.M. Chenowith
Twitter: @AMChenowith
Website: Incredibly Loud Writing

On the shores of Ithaca, Telemachus cast another stone into the Ionian Sea. Watching it skim, almost daintily, across the top of the rippling waves of foam, the young man sighed aloud.

"It was here," thought he, "where Father first showed me how to skip rocks." Young Telemachus dipped his fingers into the sand, pulling from it a flat, smooth stone most suitable for skipping. "Here it was that we built sand castles. Here I murdered my first fish, tore through it's innards, then learned how to prepare a fire-based fish meal. " A tear formed quickly, then began its descent down the young man's perfect cheekbones, coming to rest near his cut, rugged jaw.

At twenty years old, Telemachus was a sight to behold. Walking towards the sea, the West Wind gently ran his fingers through the young boy's hair. It wasn't a creepy sort of head-rubbing; really just a tussling sort of thing that was playful and completely, totally innocuous. Seriously, Telemachus should have thanked the kind old wind; he knew not just how hot he looked as the uncreepy, gentle old wind blew his sweet, moist breath through Telemachus's sunflower-blonde hair.

Telemachus scanned the horizon, searching desperately for signs of his father's ship. It was a futile routine, but one that he had practiced daily for nearly twenty years. The wind had gotten harder and harder; it seemed to blow Telemachus with all its glorious might. The fibers of young Telemachus's loin cloth fought back, stretching against the ample constraints of the sweet boy's--what ho? It couldn't be. Telemachus ran into the waves, desperate to get a look at the ship on the horizon. Finally, it became clear: Odysseus was home. Together, Odysseus and Telemachus walked the long dirt trail from the sea to their mighty home. Telemachus had walked the trail alone, many times; often he would stop and stare directly towards the sun, praying for his father's return. When his eyes began to burn, he knew his prayer had been accepted. Now, with his prayer finally answered, he turned to the sun, and gave it a pretty cute wink. "Thanks, Helios," said he.

Finally, Telemachus turned to Odysseus, and prepared to speak. He had been waiting for this moment for nearly twenty years.

"Dad, Dad, you'll never believe what's happened since you've been gone! I played t-ball, and I learned to draw, and there's a bunch of suitors at the house that we need to kill, and plus I got all As in high school, and I learned about wine, and what foods each wine are supposed to go wi—" "Jesus Christ," bellowed Odysseus. "I've been home for like six @#$% minutes! Give me a goddamned break, and you can bother me later!" The boy smiled. His father was home.

Later, Odysseus and his wife Penelope were alone at last. After a tearful reunion, and several glasses of scotch, Odysseus now laid his wife onto the bed, his hand slowly wandering up Penelope's soft vanilla thighs. He had imagined this moment for nigh twenty years, had ached for her with every ounce of his being (well, except for that whole thing with Circe, but c'mon; that was just a year of gettin' bombed, and gettin', being in different zip codes, it really wasn't cheating). At long last, he was home.

As his fingers crept into her warmth, a clammy, cold hand slapped upon his wrist.

"We need to talk," screeched Penelope. "There are like thirty suitors here. They're partying every night, drinking all of my @#$% wine, and eating all of your meat. It can't be a good influence on Telemachus. For the love of the gods, how is he even supposed to sleep? And you don't even wanna know some of the things they've said to me! You've been home for like a half-hour, and you still haven't even--"

"ENOUGH!" cried Odysseus, slamming a mighty fist upon the table. Even as he did this, his protector, goddess Athena, took action. Disguised now as a small girl, she thrust open the mighty bedroom doors, strode across the room, and slapped Penelope across the face. Then, with a wink at Odysseus, she morphed into the majestic sparrow, and flew out of the room.

Penelope stared at Odysseus, aghast.

"Remember, wife," said he, "if anyone asks, you fell." And with that, Odysseus stormed out of the room, went downstairs, and got hammered with the suitors.