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thessalianTrying something a little different with this drabble. Enjoy!
"Dear Dad,
I had no damn intention of writing this fuckin' letter in the first place but Annette said it was fuckin' stupid to piss off a god even if he is your dad, and Rachel glared at me until
"Cheers for the fuck-awesome sword-cane.Why you think I'd ever be caught dead walkin' around with a fuckin' cane I'll never know, but It'll come in really handy. Looks damn sharp, too. Hope you liked the manticore head - Emma had it taxidermised taxidermied oh fuck a bunch of this stuffed and mounted special. Sort of a gift from the whole bloody lot of us. Happy Yule, n'all.
"Sorry we couldn't make it over for Yule.Well, everyone is but me, because I frankly couldn't give a shit, but never mind. We had a bit of a shitstorm around that time 'cos some buncha sorcerous fuckwits went out of their bloody skulls on peyote-spiked eggnog and re-enacted one of those fuckin' stupid Doctor Who Christmas specials. So it was mechanical bloody Santas (Annette wants to know if it fucks you off hardcore, having the Holly King represented as a fat jolly sonuvabitch and coloured by Coca-Cola and I personally couldn't give a shit but she's going to whinge if I don't at least ask so it'd be wicked of you to let me know) and some screechy spider-demon-lookin' bitch. We're using her legs as supports for the washing line now, and Annette's having fuckin' orgasms over the bile and venom 'cos it's good in spells or some such similar shit. Sorcerous types freak me right the fuck out, but they're useful, so I guess I can't fuckin' complain.
"Got a few questions from the gang- I really wouldn't even bother with this shit because it's not worth the ink but Annette always gives me the bloody puppy-eyes and asks what the point is of being friends with a - demigod if you don't get the theistic gossip so here we go. Annette wants to know whether your very existence means that her eating meat is such a bad thing because she's still not sure about that whole 'killing animals to feed one's self' bullshit but she's curious about hot dogs which aren't even fuckin' meat, exactly, so what the hell she's complaining about, I dunno. Emma sends the enclosed autopsy report and asks if you had a hand in the design of that sonuvabitch, and to compliment your work if so. Me, I'd curse you out like buggery because it nearly took my left hand off at the fuckin' wrist, but Emma's just plain fucked in the head. Mike wants to know if I take after you at all so he can hide under the bed if so because apparently gods shouldn't be so fuckin' mean. (I told him you were worse. Fuck him if he can't take a joke.)
As for me, I've got a bit of a burnin' curiosity about something since Emma said to me recently that while you might be my dad, there must be some tie-in with Zeus in how I engage in the pursuit of the fairer sex (I think she means shagging). So I did some reading of Greek myths just to work out what the fuck she was talking about (and to make sure she wasn't insulting me again) and I really gotta know, since you talk about bein' drinkin' buddies with the thunder gods a lot of the time. Why can't Zeus just shag Hera? Seems like there'd be a shitload less problems if he kept it in his pants once in awhile, and seems Her Lady Bitch-Queen could do with the loosening up. And does that promiscuity shit fly with all the gods?
"So anyway, I'll probably see you 'round Imbolc or something. Don't work too hardor do, I don't give a fuck.
"Carl"
Three days later, a letter came back by way of a large golden eagle:
"To Carl Montegue Tanner, his father sends greetings.
"I might advise you, boy, to rewrite your letters before sending them on, or at least cross things out a bit more thoroughly.
"You may tell Emma that the creature of which she writes is not of My design. You may tell Annette that I find this Santa Claus vaguely amusing, and that there is no taboo against eating meat save for what lies within her own soul. She has the soul of a deer, so her diet may as well reflect such. Though I do not believe that deer would find any saving graces in this ... tofu. You may tell Michael whatsoever you wish - he is of little interest to me.
"As to the intimate relations of gods, I might remind that if the gods, as you put it, 'kept it in their pants', you would not exist. Take heed, boy, and be not quite so judgemental. You come by your proclivities honestly.
"I shall speak to you of these matters further at Imbolc. I believe Hera would also crave a word. There shall be a ball; your friends are invited to attend."
The only signature was a splotch of blood - his or some prey of his, Carl was never sure. Carl, reading the subtext of the reply, muttered, "Aw, fuck me blind," and went to deliver the responses to his curious housemates.
"Dear Dad,
"Cheers for the fuck-awesome sword-cane.
"Sorry we couldn't make it over for Yule.
"Got a few questions from the gang
As for me, I've got a bit of a burnin' curiosity about something since Emma said to me recently that while you might be my dad, there must be some tie-in with Zeus in how I engage in the pursuit of the fairer sex (I think she means shagging). So I did some reading of Greek myths just to work out what the fuck she was talking about (and to make sure she wasn't insulting me again) and I really gotta know, since you talk about bein' drinkin' buddies with the thunder gods a lot of the time. Why can't Zeus just shag Hera? Seems like there'd be a shitload less problems if he kept it in his pants once in awhile, and seems Her Lady Bitch-Queen could do with the loosening up. And does that promiscuity shit fly with all the gods?
"So anyway, I'll probably see you 'round Imbolc or something. Don't work too hard
"Carl"
Three days later, a letter came back by way of a large golden eagle:
"To Carl Montegue Tanner, his father sends greetings.
"I might advise you, boy, to rewrite your letters before sending them on, or at least cross things out a bit more thoroughly.
"You may tell Emma that the creature of which she writes is not of My design. You may tell Annette that I find this Santa Claus vaguely amusing, and that there is no taboo against eating meat save for what lies within her own soul. She has the soul of a deer, so her diet may as well reflect such. Though I do not believe that deer would find any saving graces in this ... tofu. You may tell Michael whatsoever you wish - he is of little interest to me.
"As to the intimate relations of gods, I might remind that if the gods, as you put it, 'kept it in their pants', you would not exist. Take heed, boy, and be not quite so judgemental. You come by your proclivities honestly.
"I shall speak to you of these matters further at Imbolc. I believe Hera would also crave a word. There shall be a ball; your friends are invited to attend."
The only signature was a splotch of blood - his or some prey of his, Carl was never sure. Carl, reading the subtext of the reply, muttered, "Aw, fuck me blind," and went to deliver the responses to his curious housemates.