oedipus vex

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Humor  |  House: Booksie Classic
Final project for an english class.
It's mostly nonsense but I think there are a few gems.

Submitted: July 12, 2016

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Submitted: July 12, 2016

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The city of Thebes was ravaged by plague and blight! Corinthian Columns corroded into coarse crumbs, fertile fields fell to flocks of furious flies, and every man, woman, and child of Thebes smelled absolutely, positively, horrific. The city looked to its ruler, King Oedipus, to save its architecture, agriculture, and aroma.

Oedipus met with a group of concerned citizens to assure them that he was on the case. “Hey guys,” bellowed the great king. “Hey King,” replied the crowd, in unison. “Things are really not super great at all,” said a priest. “I’m sure you’ve heard about the columns, and the crops, and I can’t imagine you haven’t noticed the smell,” continued the priest.

Oedipus put his hands on his hips and gave a little frown to his subjects before finally speaking. “I know everything’s looking… really not good. Especially you guys: you all look really terrible.” The crowd looked around at each other. “Fear not, however,” Oedipus said, reassuringly.

“As I am doing all in my power as your king to remedy the situation as fast as possible. I told my brother-in-law, Creone, to tell a guy to tell the sun about it. Trust me, this guy is in real good with the sun and the sun is bound to know what to do! It’s the sun we’re talking about!” Oedipus tried to smile while his eyes watered due to his proximity to his smelly subjects.

The crowd was receptive to his optimism and thanked their king. “Gee, King, we knew we could count on you! You’ve been so good to us ever since you killed that awful sphinx. We knew we made the right decision by crowning you king after some tool killed our old king, Linus,” fawned the citizens. “Yeah, those were pretty good times,” Oedipus said as everything became faded and wiggly in anticipation of a flashback.

Some years ago, it was not pestilence that afflicted Thebes, but a horrible creature known as the Sphinx. The sphinx was one half fearsome lion, and one half bodacious babe. She had taken perch upon the entrance to Thebes and forced anyone who sought passage to answer her riddle. The Sphinx terrorized the city by killing those who could not answer her riddle correctly. Clearly this neurotic behavior stems from the inherently traumatizing nature of being part human and part animal.

It was not until Oedipus came upon the Sphinx’s blockade that she was vanquished. “Wow! A riddle. This will be a great way to blow off steam after killing that sissy with the blanket,” boasted Oedipus. The Sphinx began to tell Oedipus her riddle.

“What crawls on all fours in the morning, walks on two legs all afternoon, ceasing only to pogo dance for fifteen minutes around 2:30, takes the F train at 5 o’clock and remains seated (or standing if there happen to be any elderly, disabled, or pregnant people in the car), and then at dusk grows three more legs—one in the center of the chest, one from the top of the head, and a third from the small of the back—and proceeds to roll around like a great, disgusting cartwheel of limbs?” The Sphinx asked, rapidly in one single exhale.

Oedipus thought for a moment before finally opening his mouth and uttered a befuddled “Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh… man…” Suddenly the Sphinx let out a great shriek. “Oh! How could you have possibly known the answer? Thou hast besphinxed me!”

Then, she threw herself off of a nearby cliff. Surprised by his accidental victory, but never one to pass on a good triumph, Oedipus strolled into Thebes and was declared a hero for vanquishing the foul beast.

“Oedipus! Oedipus!” came a voice rippling and echoing through space and time. Oedipus and his constituents snapped back into reality to witness the arrival of Creone. “O, Oedipus, I have returned from speaking with the guy who speaks to the sun.” Oedipus ran to Creone, eager to hear the words of the words of the words of the sun. “Well, tell me what the sun told the guy to tell you!” Oedipus pressed. “Well,” began Creole, “The guy said that the sun said that all our problems are because of whomever killed our late king, Linus. He said that the sun said that once we bust this punk, everything will be hunky-dory.” Oedipus was fuming. “O, we’ll get him, all right!” Spat the king, furiously, all over Creone. “We’ll get that motherfucker who killed the king!” he foreshadowed.

Oedipus decided that he would summon Tiresias, the blind seer, to advise him in his search for the king’s murderer. “Tell me where I can find this scoundrel,” demanded Oedipus. “I ain’t sayin’ nutin’. Youse bettah off fo’getting’ da whole t’ing,” the blind man replied. Oedipus shined an interrogative swing-light into Tiresias’s face to intimidate him. “O, a wise guy, huh?” However, Tiresias was unfazed, as he was literally a wise guy as well as being completely incapable of detecting the light. The man was just so dang blind.

There was only one way Oedipus could make Tiresias talk: threaten to deprive him of a human being’s second most essential sense. “Tell me who killed King Linus or I’ll cut your tongue out!” The kind shouted. Tiresias was horrified. “Not my tongue! How will I be able to taste where I’m goin’? Fine. I’ll tell youse who offed Linus. It was YOUSE.”

Oedipus couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “ME? How dare you!” he screamed. “This whole thing reeks of funny business… also just in general because of the miasma and whatnot, but also of FUNNY BUSINESS! I bet it was Creone who put you up to this! He’s trying to pull a fast one over me.” Oedipus dismissed Tiresias, “Get out of here you sightless peasant.” But just as Tiresias was about to leave he turned to speak to Oedipus. “O, you’ll get your’s, mothahfuckah. Just youse wait an’ see. Get it? SEE?” “Yes, I get it,” Oedipus replied. “Okay. I just wanted to make sure,” said Tiresias, before being about his way.

It was not long until word reached Creone of Oedipus’s accusations. Creone approached Oedipus defensively in his court. “Hey, bro, what’s all this hub-bub I hear about you telling everybody that I told Tiresias to tell you that you’re Linus’s murderer? C’mon, I schlepped all the way to Delphi to tell you what the sun told the oracle to tell me to tell you!” Even through his anguish at having been accused of treason, it was clear that Creone was confused towards the end of his sentence.

“I don’t care,” Oedipus piped back sharply, “You suck and I’m going to have you executed!” Just then the courtroom doors swung open to reveal that it was none other than Queen Jocasta who had swung the courtroom doors open.

“Woah woah woah woah woah woah woah woah woah,” Jocasta woefully cried. “Don’t just go killing my brother in law because some blind guy told you that you killed the king and then called you a dirty word. C’mon. Please,” pleaded she. Oedipus found himself immediately calmed by her words, as if there was something almost biologically instilled in him to find comfort in his wife. They were very fond of each other, as each reminded the other so much of their self.

“Besides,” she continued, “My dear former king and I were told a prophecy by a similarly crazy guy that never came true. It was the most ridiculous thing! We were told that Linus would be killed by his own son, but it was a hoard of highwaymen who slew my husband and shoved his favorite blanket right up his—“

“Blanket?” Oedipus interrupted, a quiver present deep within his voice.

“Why yes, a blanket. Our King Linus loved his blanket. I dare say he never went anywhere without it,” Answered Jocasta, somewhat sentimentally. Oedipus looked gravely at his queen. “You know, you’ve never really told me much about Linus. What did he, uh, look like?” There was no mistaking the nerves in his words. “Well,” Jocasta began, looking up to the ceiling and smiling at the memory of her former consort.

“He was a very intelligent man. He wasn’t much of a looker, but his thin, unkempt, sparse hair made him seem ever more the philosopher. O, also, he loved to wear red and black stripe shirts; not that that’s any kind of recognizable key characteristic or anything.”

Oedipus went completely pale. “Are you all right, my sweet genetically disparate King?” Jocasta tried to comfort Oedipus, but he recoiled at her touch. “Babe, there’s just something that I’ve got to get off my chest.” Oedipus then removed from the front of his toga a large, pointed, metal broach that had been stabbing him in the nipple this whole time. “Anyway, there’s something I must tell you.” He told his wife, after alleviating his areola agony.

“I’ve never told you why I left Corinth. You see, one time at a party in my home city, some wasted guy told me that I’m adopted. Naturally, I did what anybody would do if a severely inebriated person said something like that to him or her: worry about it incessantly and go see a psychic. I traveled to that sun guy: you know the one. Anyway, so this guy tells me that the sun told him that I’m going to end up killing my dad and boning my mom!” Oedipus emphasized this last part with disgust.

“Ewwwwwww!” squealed Jocasta. “’Ewwwwwww’ is right, Honey.” Affirmed Oedipus. “And this is the freakin’ SUN telling this guy to tell me this. I’m telling you, if the sun tells a guy to tell you something, there’s no telling what untold horrors one would incur!” Oedipus was red in the face. After taking a second to catch his breath, he continued.

“So, then I’m just all like ‘no way. I can’t just head back home and wait until I inevitably cuckold my father and widow my mother. That’s just not gonna fly.’ I decided to never return home and I set out for new lands.” Oedipus paused for a moment and grappling with what he was about to say next.

“Then… on my way to Thebes, I came across these bunch of guys, and they were so… Lame! I just HAD to kill them, Jocasta, I just had to! And, well… There MIGHT have been a guy with a blanket… and scraggly hair… and a red and black striped shirt. O god, Jocasta, what if it’s true? What if I killed Linus?”

Oedipus was dripping with sweat and panting. Jocasta rushed to his side. “But my handsome King, it was a band of thieves that killed the King of Thebes! You are but one man! I’m sure this group of people you slaughtered for no real reason had nothing to do with the king! See? Everything’s fine!” Oedipus looked up at his queen with a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

Suddenly a messenger ran into the courtroom. “King Oedipus! You may end your exile! I have come to tell you that your Father, Polybus, has died!” The messenger proclaimed. Oedipus sprang up in joy. “O! Joy! My father is dead! I’ve never been so happy in my whole life!”

Suddenly the King’s mood dulled a little. “Though, I’m still worried that I might somehow inadvertently shag my own mom.” The messenger ran up to Oedipus with a spark in his eye and a spring in his step. “But Your Majesty, I have but MORE good news to tell you! Her Highness, Merope, is not your real mother! YOU’RE ADOPTED!”

The whole room froze. “…yay… right…?” The messenger shrank as Oedipus slowly approached him. “How do you know this?” The monarch asked. The messenger stumbled to answer. “W-w-well, as it turns out, um, I, kind of gave you to your pare—I mean, to the people you thought were your parents.”

Oedipus continued his steady approach while the messenger retreated at the same pace. “Then where did you get me?” Oedipus pressed. The messenger let out a small whimper. “Uh, uh, uh… from a shepherd… from the Van Pelt Household.” Oedipus seemed as if he were about to explode. “God Damnit! Go get me that shepherd right this fucking second!” he exploded. “But Sire, he’s so old!” the messenger squeeled. Oedipus would not have it. “NOW,” he ordered, and the messenger left. For a couple moments there was complete silence when suddenly Jocasta’s eyes widened, and before wilting into unconsciousness, she uttered a piercing “Ewwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww!” before being rushed to her quarters by her handmaids.

Soon enough, the messenger returned with the old shepherd to the front of Oedipus’s palace. Oedipus had been waiting with a crowd of citizens and was ready for interrogation. Upon seeing the old shepherd the citizens immediately recognized him as the lone survivor of King Linus’s nearly-entirely-murdered caravan.

“I don’t give a shit who he is!” shouted the king upon hearing this fact. Oedipus proceeded to scream at the elderly shepherd as loud as he possibly could. “Hey! Hey Old Guy! I’m going to make this REAL simple: did I kill my dad and fuck my mom?!”

The old shepherd batted his eyelashes and replied coyly, “I’ll never tell! Tee hee hee.” Oedipus had never been so mad in his silly little life. “Why you--! I’ll put you in a sack of bees if you don’t tell me! I’ll make you eat your house! I can do that! I can tell you to eat your own house and you’ll have to do it because I’m the king and I said so!” But the old shepherd only preceded to giggle.

“You know what I’ll do,” frothed King Oedipus, “I’ll make you walk through a hall-way that stretches for miles and miles and slowly gets smaller as you go through! Then, when you emerge from the other side of the of the hall-way, you’ll be as small as a germ! That’s right! And I’ll pick you up in my hands and literally wash my hands clean of you!” Oedipus continued to threaten to the shepherd until he had worn himself out. “JUST TELL ME ALREADY” “No,” replied the shepherd, curtly. “Come on, I just GOTTA know!” “Nope,” the shephard zipped.

“Secrets Secrets are no fun unless you share with everyone!” The King commanded, and at last the shepherd relented. “FINE. I’ll tell you.” He sighed. “YAY,” cheered Oedipus, forgetting for a moment what was happening in the excitement of getting what he wanted.

The shepherd began. “Okay, so that baby I gave away was totally Linus and Jacosta’s baby. They were really mad about something the sun said, about their son killing Linus and having sex with Jacosta, and, uh, SPOILER ALERT! You did both those things! Remember me? I saw you kill King Linus. Throw-back! But yeah, double-whammy: killed your dad, screwed your mom. Wow, dude.” The shepherd sputtered with laughter as he spoke.

Oedipus felt like he was shattering into a million little tea-cups which were all each shattering into a million littler tea-cups of their own. As he stood their, frozen, a small sound began to escape his lips. “eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeewwwwwwwwwwwwwwWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!”

He began to shriek. “Ew! Ew! Ew! Ew! Ewwww! O my god! Gross! Gross! Gross!” The citizens of palace workers could do nothing but watched Oedipus writhe around in disgust. Suddenly Oedipus ran into his palace.

He ran to Jacosta’s chamber all the while screaming “Ew, gross, yucky, ew, icky, gross!” When he entered the room, he saw that Jacosta had hung herself. Her eyes bulged out of her sockets like grapes, her tongue hung out of her mouth, and beneath her hanging corpse were several drops of blood on the floor.

It was in that instance of registering what he was looking at that knew exactly what he must do. After all, there is only one thing any human being can do in this situation. He took two of her clothespins and shoved them right into his eye sockets, of course. “Yeap, that was the move,” he thought, “It’s like aloe on a rash.”

Oedipus stumbled his way out of the palace where an even larger crowd had gathered than before. “O, so gross! O So very icky!” he wailed. “Ew, ew, ew ew ew. Look, guys, after this whole business, you just gotta exile me as quick as possible.” The crowd was absolutely speechless. “Look, guys, come on, I may be blind now but I know you’re there! C’mon! Exile me! Only then will our marble return to pristineness, our crops to fecundity, and our collective odors to a generally tolerable level.” Oedipus begged.

Then, Oedipus heard a voice he recognized: it was Creone. “No, Oedipus, get back in that house. We gotta ask that guy to ask the sun what to do, first. Also, guess what: I’m king now and you bet your sweet little patootie that I won’t be killing my dad or banging my mom. That’s two notches better than you, right off the bat.”

Oedipus barely seemed to listen to him, he merely silently repeated his mantra: “Gross, o so gross, ew, ew, ew.” Oedipus heard two more voices he recognized. “My daughters!” he cried, “And, also, I guess, now my sisters… O gross, ew, yucky, ew!” The wailed along with him, “We know, Father! We know! Gross, gross, disgusting, gross, o god, ew, yuck!” The three of them howled and rolled around in the mud.

Oedipus turned towards Creone, or at least, where he thought Creone might be. “Creone! Please, you’ll protect my sister-daughters, won’t you? Whatever the guy who talks to the sun says the sun says must happen to me, I must ask that you don’t let anything happen to my children!” begged Oedipus.

“Fine, jeez,” relented Creone, “Just get in the palace. Man, you guys are so gross right now I think I’m going to hurl.” Thus, Oedipus returned to his palace to await the word of the word of the word of the sun. The crowd dispersed and gossiped amongst themselves. “God, this town is total trash; I absolutely love it,” reveled the old shepherd to the messenger, who in turn replied. “I know, right? That was so great.”


© Copyright 2017 Mark Hilbert. All rights reserved.

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