Alluring Bird-Ladies for Nautical BDSM
You [Odysseus]: Strapped to the mast of your ship, begging for release.
Us [Sirens]: The flock of smoking hot bird-babes perched on the rocks, brutalizing you with our siren song. No one has ever resisted us before! Or since! If this experience was as deliciously painful for you as it was for us, we’d love to run it back—this time without your pesky crew (unless they lose the earwax). We have many feathers for torture-tickling, and only a touch of avian pox.
Let’s Put the ‘Us’ Back in Theseus
You [Ariadne]: Asleep on Naxos, dreaming up flower arrangements for our wedding.
Me [Theseus]: Omg babe, I totally spaced and left you on that island! I am soooo sorry. That was such a crazy day, with the Minotaur and the maze, and I was all stressed because Athena was really riding me. I’m gonna sail back there so we can get married, once I knock out a few more Labors and pose for a few more sculptures (you understand). It was Naxos, right? And your name is? Ariana? Grande? You know what, babe—we’ll figure it out when I get back. In the meantime, I’m sure nothing tragic will befall you.
Can I Roll with You?
You [Sisyphus]: Pushing a boulder up a hill over and over in what I can only assume is the Hades location of Crossfit.
Me [A fan]: Drawn to strong, dense, unattainable men. May I feed you a beluga while you work? Or teach you the Law of Gravity? I think your task would make a great metaphor for our relationship. Here’s to eternity, handsome.
Olympus Is Calling
You [Zeus]: My little brother, hiding in a cave so Dad doesn’t eat you.
Me [Hera]: Your older sister, whom Dad successfully ate. It’s, uh, getting pretty stuffy in here. There are five of us, and somehow we’re all grown up now. Look, if you cut us out of here… I’ll marry you. I know that’s gross, but NOT AS GROSS AS GROWING UP INSIDE DAD’S STOMACH. Please kill him and save me so we can rule the universe and have a bunch of kids who will be just fine, they’ll be fiiiiine.
Rock Star Husband Ghosted by Dead Wife
You [Eurydice]: Killed by a viper.
Me [Orpheus]: Traveled to the underworld and laid down some tasty power ballads so Hades would let you come back to life. Then when we were leaving, I turned around and you were gone. So I crossed the River Styx, stared down a three-headed hound, and shredded my lyre for the God of Death—and you ghosted me. Wow, Eurydice. Send a raven if you see this, I guess? I don’t know if you’re still dead or just avoiding me because you’re freaked out by my level of commitment.
My Shame Reverberates
You [Narcissus]: (checks notes) Chasing frightened deer into your nets.
Me [Echo]: Repeating the last few words of everything you said (mostly “…into mine nets, deer!”). You seemed to like that I never challenged you or had any original opinions, but when you caught a glimpse of your reflection in a spring, you tuned me out. You’ve actually been staring at yourself for so long that I think you might starve to death? Yep, I just realized that you are a total narcissist, which I should have known as soon as you showed me all those vase paintings of your abs. Gods, this is so humiliating.
Venus, if you’re listening—please, please, please make me disappear.
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Evan Allgood has written for The New Yorker, New York magazine, McSweeney’s, The Millions, Paste, and others. He lives in Brooklyn with his rescue dog, Petey. Follow and maybe later unfollow him on Twitter @evoooooooooooo.