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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Humor  |  House: Booksie Classic
Imagine Hercules having to do his twelve works again - but in modern times. Then, try to imagine a report of his efforts written in the style of Byron's Don Juan. Like what you're imagining? Then start reading.

Submitted: May 03, 2017

A A A | A A A

Submitted: May 03, 2017







I want a hero: a quite common want -

  Since heroes, in our time, are relatively scarce.

And should one appear, he’s unlikely to flaunt

  His bravery, for he could, unawares,

Offend someone, and such a person might hunt

  My hero down, with torches and with flares!

So, a hero from the past I shall need,

Be he with, or without a fiery steed.


Many brave men cross my mind as we speak

  (Since I’m a lady, a man would be best)

Hmm... Robin Hood, or Aladdin? Too bleak -

  And even Superman could use some zest

Perhaps I should choose one from ancient Greek?

  These demi-Gods, they can take any test…

But who then from them would fit? My oh my!

Cause even they come in such grand supply!


He must be handsome, of course, and strong too...

  Though that doesn't narrow it down much either.

Perhaps the first of them? Perseus! Who

  Bravely slew the Medusa, and neither

He nor his wife died too early; 'tis true

  They ruled well – not a sad face to see there!

But still, for my purpose, he was a tad righteous,

I do need a hero with a bit more bite – yes.


His great-grandson was the brave Hercules

  Who had several wives, and waged many wars.

He might be ideal for my purposes,

  There's nothing he did, I’d think, one deplores.

His immortal soul now on Olympus is

  Where the Goddess of Youth him daily adores.

I wonder if he’d ever check on his progeny?

I reckon he does... Methinks my hero will be he!


His lineage needs no explanation;

  Being the son of a God and a queen,

And shown in many an ornamentation -

  There’s hardly a man who has never seen

Or heard of his historic narration!

  Though his history isn’t completely clean;

His foster mom, Hera, does hate his guts

And she wasn’t the only one he drove nuts.


There was this bit 'bout him killing his kids

his wife, though the opinions differ

On that (the Greek, too, were at times dumb gits

  Instead of wise men, and couldn't deliver

The same story twice – but hey, with our wits

  Who're we to complain! Still, at the thought, I shiver)

But I understand he was under some spell -

And all tales agree he paid for it quite well.


Well now, there he was, brave Hercules, checking

In on his offspring, making sure they weren’t

Wreaking havoc, or publicly pecking;

  Outrageous! He had to make sure they'd learnt

Not to be winning a fight – thus decking

  Anyone, or they might be brut’ly burnt

With the aforementioned torches and flares,

Or get trapped in horrible media snares!


But somehow, now, Hera had convinced Zeus

  To not let Hercules back in, unless

He for once put his powers to good use

  And brought another twelve labours to success -

If not, he mightn’t go back to Olympus,

she, then, would be watching his progress.

Of all the times in the world he has seen,

Imagine yourself the mess he was now in!


These labours, of course, would altogether be,

  (Be they easier or somewhat harder)

Of a completely different quality!

  Instead of stables, he might clean a larder;

He was now in the service of Miss Eurysthee;

  A she who could hardly age any farther.

So here the story of our hero begins,

At the hands of a lady with the most floppy of skins…


Canto One

The Saving Of The Himalayan Cat


Sing, O Muse! Or at least, just help me out,

  Please, a bit, in the telling of this tale.

Though I know I’ve plenty to write about,

  And my story will unlikely derail,

I would like to have you with me throughout -

  Well, you, and perhaps a fine drink of ale.

There! The three of us, methinks, should be OK -

The muse, the drink, and me - we’re off, hurray!


Weeks passed by, as the brave Hercules waited

  For a mission of some kind or other.

One would expect his courage abated,

like many another;

Just doing whatever the lady dictated,

  Hoping that soon, he'll be rid of this bother.

But then, from the garden, a shriek; “Help! Please!

My cat seems to've climbed up one of the trees!


I don't know which one, but I hear her calling!

  Hercules! Come quick! And help get her down!

This shall be your first labour! Quit stalling!”

  On Hercules's face there appeared a frown,

And with some effort, he tried recalling

very first labour. 'Twas in some town...

Oh! Right!”, said he, “The Nemean Lion!

Well, out! Or Miss will forever cry on...”


It was of great importance that the cat

  (Who'd won first prize at many a cat show!

Indeed, she was most wonderful to look at,

  She had a crisp white coat, much like fresh snow)

Would come out unharmed, and 't had to be stat,

  Or Miss Eurysthee might just die from woe!

So Hercules started devising a plan...

Which worries me, he isn't that smart a man.


The devising was quickly done, and he

  Ran out, with great speed, into the garden.

Resolutely grabbed old Miss Eurysthee,

  And then, without any pause or pardon,

Threw the old lady up just the right tree.

  At that, the lady felt quite bizarre, and

Was quiet for a moment, but then screamed

Get me down AT ONCE! Or you'll never be redeemed!”


Why she was so fussed, I cannot understand -

  The view is usually quite nice up a tree.

Also, to’ve been touched by Hercules’ hand,

  Even when one always reeks of potpourri,

Is, in itself, quite awesomely and grand.

  But she wasn’t too pleased, obviously...

Anyway, back to our situation;

This isn’t the time for procrastination!


Hercules, for one, did not like the cat,

  Since it was of the Himalayan breed.

So her ancestors were Persians, and that

  Was bad; Persians and Greek had been no friends indeed -

He’d rather ’ve been touching a mangy rat!

  So he started figuring out what he’d need;

Firstly, some sort of way to get up; a ladder!

And also, much more now, to empty his bladder...


Well, after a pee, the brave man was back

  With portable stairs, to get both fair dames.

The sequence of steps hit the wood with a smack,

  And Hercules climbed his way up the frames

Right in time to avert a heart-attack,

  Though in the old lady’s eyes there were flames!

She was… Slightly angry, to say the least,

she was holding the beast.


He got them down, and Miss ran in the house,

  Leaving her rescuer standing outside.

She pulled a blanket over her pants and blouse,

  The cat went under too, ‘t wanted to hide –

'T had suddenly lost interest in its toy mouse –

  And thus they sat on the couch, side by side.

All together feeling better; relieved

After they had been so dearly aggrieved.


But Hercules didn’t dare venture back in -

  He figured he’d better go for a stroll.

And when he’d come back, the lady’d be in

  A much more forgiving mood, on the whole.

But he was no expert stroller, where to begin?

  ‘For starters’, he thought, ‘I might climb up the knoll!’

Humming a tune to himself, off he went.

Indeed ‘twas a good day for an ascent…


With Herc now gone, here's a bit about me;

  (Me being the narratress of this piece)

You may have noticed that I am a she,

  But you wouldn't know I just had a sneeze,

That, for lack of food, I'm now quite hungry,

  And recently went, with friends, to La Suisse.

I'm prone to wandrings some think trivial

But which I hope you'll find forgivable


I saw someone walking a hamster's cage

  Across central station the other day.

The man holding it, about 20 years of age,

  Heading resolutely in the train's way.

The reason, I think, 's that he had to assuage

  Some lady's hamster, small and silv'ry grey

With an offering of more uptown living

'Cause he'd been disapproved of by the thing.


The little creature might've made this known

  By means of force, in the form of a bite,

Or it may have peed on the guy's cellphone -

  That'd ruin any romantic night.

So to not get stuck in the dreaded friend zone

  Because some animal started a fight

Between him and his dearly beloved

The young man held his head high, and the cage above it!


The offer would surely win fair rodent's heart -


And stop completely with trying to thwart

  All this brave man's plans for romance – yippee!

Then nothing, truly, could tear them apart,

  This man and his highly esteemed lady.

And they would all live happily ever after

And fill their days with nothing but laughter.


The happy couple might even have kids

  Who, in their turn, will have pets of their own.

Those pets, again, with their animal wits

  (Intuition, if you will - to us unknown,

Animals have this way of sensing, it's

  Almost creepy) will, when the time comes, moan

At the advances of some or other

Suitor who woos their adoptive mother,


And the whole cycle will start all over

  Of liking, trying, biting and cages,

As it is 'round the world, from beautiful Dover,


From the aesthetically challenged drover

  To the prettiest dame of all ages

Back to our man, strutting along central station;

All in search of some appreciation.


...but this, of course, is just speculation -

  Another thing I heartily enjoy;

To make good use of my imagination.

  Though par accidence often a decoy,

It's saved me from many a dull duration

  Upon which I it thankfully employ

And drift off to wherever it takes me -

Much like I'm drifting off now, as you see.


There's one more issue I'd like to address

  Before we get on with the next Canto.

A thing to which I hope you acquiesce

  (But since you've read this far, I should think so)

Great writers have disagreed with me - nonetheless

  It's a matter close to my heart. Here we go;

I would like to speak to you about rhyme,

Thyme, lime, mime, prime climb - it is time!


Contrary to what, say, Milton might think,

  I say rhyme might be very useful for

And in all instances, an accompanying wink

  To which itself is funny, or might be a bore -

Or comic relief, to what may make the heart sink,

, exceptionally, to make the ordinary soar.

Provided, of course, that the poet knows

What he (or she)'s doing, or things might go horribly wrong.


Whew! Glad to have that off my chest. The link

  With the next Canto (two) is now in store.

I do hope that you will not find it to stink,

  Because there are tales yet to come - galore!

As we stand here together, on the brink

  Of the new Canto, one last thing I implore;

You to try, for a moment, smelling your toes.

There, on with the second Canto, here it goes!



Canto Two

The Slaying Of The Hylian Hydra


Indeed, as Hercules just now returned

  To the home of his distressed employer,

He found Miss Eurysthee looking concerned,

  Sitting quite quietly in the foyer.

All in all, he did not think he had earned

  More crankiness – he'd hoped to enjoy her

Elegant conversation for a while,

And perhaps, for bonus points, making her smile.


But no such luck befell our brave hero,

, shortly, felt better,

Her level of happiness now seemed near zero,

  Her pouting-lip looking even fatter.

In her hands, some paper and a Biro -

  She was holding a small kind of letter.

And this could pose a real problem indeed;

Herc had never really known how to read...


He gently approached the small shape sitting

  For he didn't want to startle her more,

While he desp'rately wished he knew about knitting,

  Or what on Earth chamois cloth could be for,

Still, his courage remained unremitting,

  Though he feared what might happen over war.

Miss,” he said, “what seems to be the matter?

Should I stay and talk to you or had I better scatter?”


The old lady looked up at Herc his head,

  Opened her mouth, and from it these words came:

My horrid grandson's the problem,” she said,

  “Became obsessed with this video-game,

He should be visiting me, but instead,

  All he thinks 'bout is playing. Oh, the shame!


To leave my poor old grandmother behind!”


Now here's the thing I'd like to ask of you;

  I want you to go and visit the boy,

And, for heaven's sake, do help him get through

  Whatever he faces with this new toy

This will be your second work – you to

  Help my grandson finish his game. Enjoy!”

And she handed him the little letter,

While Herc felt his armpits getting wetter.


Luckily, it was no letter at all,

  But rather it looked like a tiny map,

Showing Miss' house, and also the town hall.

  He sat down, and spread the bit on his lap,

And saw his destiny – right past the mall;

  On the way, he could pick up a nice frappe.

So! Off he went, valiant Hercules,

His hair blowing gently in the summer breeze.


As he came to Miss's grandson's home,

  Which was on Harris street, nr. Forty-two,

And strutted to the door, past a garden-gnome,

  He wished he knew what he would have to do.

But as he pressed the doorbell, which looked chrome,

  He soon found out - a boy to the door flew,

And opened it, and hollered “YES! YOU'RE HERE!

You look positively like a musketeer!”


Or any good old hero, I dare say!

  Nana definitely does know her stuff.

A monster we two are going to slay,

rough –

Of monsters, I have seen a fair bouquet,

  But none like this, that much is sure enough!

Come in, and I will turn on the telly.

Would you like a helping of green jelly?”


Monsters!” Herc pondered, “Those I've done before!

  Helping this boy will suit me just perfect.”

And he followed the child into the door.

  What the TV should be for, he could not suspect,

Monsters must not be the same any more,

  But there's no beast that he could not deflect.

Herc entered the house with the little boy -

Saulio was his name, and a Wii his toy.


The smell inside the house was curious –

  A bit like that of... well, the human toe.

As our hero, searching for things injurious,

  Finally sat down on a couch, below

A painting which looked somehow spurious.

  'Twas of a man, with an arrow and bow...

And behind him there stood a large centaur,

But heaven knows what they were naked for.


Saulio came back with some diff'rent desserts,

  Looking altogether ready for bed.

As “This is no outfit for fighting” Herc asserts,

  The boy sat next t'him on the couch, and said

The Morpheel we'll have to defeat; it spurts

  Bombfish out, and those hurt Link 'till he's dead”

This was all too much for poor Hercules.

And what on earth was that persistent smell of cheese?!


You've not heard of Zelda?” the young boy asked,

  Looking at Herc's grave and bewildered face.

I've played it for days, and it's unsurpassed

  In all matters of gameplay, style and grace.

But now, I'm at a point I can't get past

  And it's not like I'm stuck in some lame maze,

No – I'm trapped by the monster of lake Hylia

I heard you've before dealt with a Hydra?”


This monster is similar in the way

  That it keeps its dwellings under water.

It has protuberances which make it hard to slay

  And lives in a cave – could not be grotter.

But! I've found an online walk-through today,

  Read that to me, so I may then slaughter

This hideous here underwater thing!

You're welcome to throw tips into the ring.”


Panic struck the heart of the brave man

  In the face of such imminent peril.

He had always been much the killing-fan,

  But he read as well as could a barrel.

The page he was handed with the game-plan,

  And at its sight, Herc his mind turned feral.

The sight of the letters made him quiver with fear,

What to do now? And Herc suppressed a tear...


Then, salvation seemed at once to be near;

  At the bottom of the page shined a small

Clip of film, which did clearly 'nough appear

  To be able to tend to this close call,

And get brave Hercules back in the clear -

  He won't have to read anything at all.

Youtube was, for the first time in hist'ry,

Going to save a hero from ancient myst'ry!


All he would have to do to help the lad

  Is simply describe what is going on,

And maybe, indeed, he'll here and there add

  A few tips on how to get the beast gone.

This made Herc feel all together less bad,

  The red from his cheeks now again withdrawn.

He pressed the button to make the clip play;

Everything was still going to be OK!


I'll save you, reader, the gory details

  Of the defeat of this slippery beast.

Though preceded by a number of fails -

  These things usually take three tries, at least -

An end was put to its CGI scales;

  The Hylian Morpheel was now deceased!

Hercules high-fived the little fellow,

And together, they ate some celebratory jello.


'Read on, read on!' Saulio requested,

  And in an instant, Herc's luck had run out.

Just barely was his jello ingested,

  When a grimace appeared around his snout.

Because – and he had this well attested -

  There was no further Youtube clip about!

As the reds returned quickly to his cheeks,

Under his armpits again formed these leaks...


I... I never really learned to do that”

What?!” exclaimed Saulio, “You can not read?”

Sadly, with letters I've always been bad,

  To my education no one paid much heed.

Though my physique might be good to look at,

  I would love to be able to succeed

In reading, for instance, a poem, by Byron!

Or about Odysseus facing a vicious siren...”


But no such luck will ever befall me,

  Illiteracy is forever my doom.

Not ever will I be able to see

  The mental image of a cosy room

Sketched by Austen, of people drinking tea,

  Or Mr Darcy as Lizzie's future groom...”

At that point, Saulio lay on the floor,

Laughing unlike he'd ever done before.


This was just too much for poor old Herc's heart.

  Keeping his upper lip stiff, he made for

The door, hoping to get a swift depart.

  While Saulio was still stuck in a roar,

Herc was trying hard not to fall apart.

  Right as he could not stand it any more

He found himself, safe and unharmed, outside

The crisis averted – he had not cried!


Some time he needed, his breath to re-catch;

  It's been long since he had faced such hardship.

monsters were, of course, to him no match,

  But against this, he could never equip

Himself – Ah, but only ever to scratch

  The surface of all that's written! To grip

And read, a splendid story by Dickens!

'Twould make him feel so much more unlike chickens...


Deeply sad, he sat down on a park bench.

  To be laughed at by that wretched kid!

And how does one live, in such horrid stench?!

  He didn't understand it one small bit...

But then, something happened which his sadness did quench;

  He looked to his left – a butterfly flit

And landed right on the tip of his nose!

happy, I s'pose.


So then he walked home to the old lady,

  The sun's rays making him feel warm inside.

Some silly observations he made, he

  Noticed plants and things being knocked aside,

And blueish splatters around – how shady...

  “Must've gone wrong when someone something dyed...”

Little did he know that he, then, would be

In charge of cleaning this mess up wholly...


Canto Three

The Capture Of The Cerulean Hind


Miss Eurysthee was surprised to see him -

  No video game took this short to beat.

The chances, to her, seemed extremely slim

  That he had not made an early retreat.

And though it made Miss' mood even more grim,

  Much more pressing matters were there to meet.

For lingering on incompetence there was no time

(These matters had to be met in Herc's prime.)


See – the mayor had given her a call,

  Having heard of Miss' strange visitor,

Saying he wondered if she could, at all,

  Maybe, perhaps, for him, elicit her

Feelings about helping him – a banal

  Thing had happened, and the inquisitor

Inspecting the town neatness was coming,

And there is a problem, and 'tisn't the plumbing...


You know”, he'd said, “how there's a repaint going on

  Of all the blue in our wonderful town?

Well, a few deer from our fair zoo are gone,

  And as it happens, a bucket's come down


  I was wondering, is your man around

For helping out, and would he be inclined

To help capture and clean up after this hind?”


Consid'ring it's been running 'round freely

  And making everything in it's path blue.

I happen to like this colour, so ideally,

  I would just let the animal run through

And splatter anything blueish. Really!

  But everyone won't feel the same way I do,

So it'll need to be caught in time for

The visit of the great inquisitor!”


Miss had soon pondered the mayor's demand,

  And quite quickly made a clear decision.

Though fond of blue too, this she would not stand,

need revision

Before things really did get out of hand,

  'Twould have to be cleaned with great precision.

...or not, as long as things would get cleaned up -

Herc might as well go and give it a scrub.


She delivered the news as he walked in,

  Which made him, in turn, feel pretty relieved.

After the pains through which he had just been

be nice, he believed.

The mere idea to his face brought a grin,

  And cleaning's not something he'd never achieved.

At last! This task would pose no real concern!

No Persians! No reading! No hasty return!


The last word had barely left Miss' mouth,

  Or Herc'd already stormed back out the door.

Where to look first? North, West, or perhaps South?

  He might start asking at the grocery store...

So there he went, but no one was abouth,

  (Pronounced with a lisp, or the rhyme don't work no more)

Then, he figured, he'd best just search alone -

He's found a hind before, that much is well known.


I'd best start my search for this here blue hind”

  Herc told himself, as he walked down the street,

By looking at the tracks she's left behind -

  Easy enough, for it now has blue feet.

Doing that, she should be easy to find.

  Now off! And her defeat the deer will meet!

I will stop her incessant mess-making,

up, no mistaking!”


Tracking her blueish traces, Herc soon found


Luckily, no one else was around;

  Doing this quietly was quite the nub

Of his plan, he knew deer had a profound

  Preference for peace – wouldn't find one in a pub.

So he slowly approached the animal,

Trying to be his most unflappable.


The hind was glad to see, in front of her,

  A kind-looking statue and likewise face;

You can imagine a deer to prefer

  A calm example of the human race.

And by some persuasion, it did occur

  To her to get out of her hiding space.

And so she did, straight into Herc's strong arms,

The so-manyeth woman who'd fallen for his charms.


And, with these strong arms, Herc picked up the deer,

  And brought her back to her friends at the zoo,

Who all were happy to see her – 'twas clear,

  So – maybe he should collect the other deer too?

They would now all still be pretty near...

  This, he decided, he would gladly do.

For cleaning, there would be plenty of time;

This job seemed to him more honourable and sublime.


With the rounding up of deer he started;

  There were about thirteen he had to find.

They had, all 'round, in directions darted,

  But these, sadly, had left no trail behind.

Naturally, this didn't make Herc faint hearted,

  But more eager to help the aforementioned hind -

The next two he had quickly located,

he did so, I'll leave unstated -


For you, the reader's comfort, it's best not

  To know about the gruesome conditions

From which Herc these two deer had just now got.

  I'd like to save you nightmares and visions

And food which is for thought,

  No, that is not one of my ambitions,

To make you, reader, feel all dyspeptic

At the picture of a scene so septic...


But – the other eleven were recovered

  In much the same easy way as the first.

Though all a bit startled, none of them suffered –

  Some did feel reas'nably annoyed, at worst,

'Cause suddenly, they 'bove the ground hovered,

  But all ill sent'ments were quickly reversed

The moment the deer were rejoined with their

Dear friends! And Herc now in their joy did share!


After having spent some time with his new

  Friends, 'twas time for Herc to make a bold start

With cleaning the town from all the blue goo.

  So, from the zoo he presently did part,

Waved to the deer there one final adieu,

  And seeing as he hardly knew by heart

The kind of things he'd need for his cleaning,

He now went to Miss', for a bit of convening.


Luckily, she had plenty of knowledge

  On matters of stains and removing them.

For this, she had never needed college

  Such wit, I know, does invariably stem

From female old age, though one should acknowledge

rather the gem.

She'd spent most her life as a household aid -

does make perfect, I am afraid.


She informed him of the things he would need;

  Firstly, a good amount of paint thinner,

And also, that he would have to give heed

  To not let it get into someone's dinner –

With thinner, no stomach's ever agreed.

  Then, even though Herc's just a beginner,

All he would need is a bit of strong cloth,

And he'd be able to begin his swath!


He cleaned and cleaned 'till there was no blue left,

  Every spot, stain and splatter in his way.

And clean he did with such apparent deft,

  That all the town people came to see his display.

To see a character built with such heft

  Polish with such precision – I say!

Surely it was an awesome sight to see –

Such that it pleased even Miss Eurysthee.


She'd also come out of her house to look,

  She usually leaves delegated chores.

But for this, she had left her cosy nook,

  And wagered a visit to the outdoors –

She'd wondered what had everyone so shook,

  And figured it could only be on Herc's scores.

So upon arrival, she was glad to assess

That there wasn't the slightest cause for distress!


Rather, the case was wholly opposite,

  'Cause instead of worry, glee was in place,

Though she'd thought of how Herc about this would go, it

  Now, in real life, brought a smile to her face.

He was starting to grow on her, 'n she knows it -

might not be that much of a disgrace.

She figured she'd go buy him an ice-cream

A good gift for anyone!” she did deem.


After every last stain had been removed,

  Herc was pleasantly surprised to see Miss

Smiling at him, her mood – finally! – improved,

  Maybe she was warming up to him? His

Mind went racing – this might mean he'll have moved

  Back to Olympus soon after all! This

Was GREAT news! Though he shouldn't get his hopes

Up too high, he pondered, as he strolled up slopes -


As I'd mentioned before, this town's hilly.

  So together they walked, eating ice-cream,

Evening was dropping, but 'twas not chill.

  At th'horizon the prettiest colour-scheme,

The loveliest of dusks it was, really,

  It was as if the whole world did now gleam...

'Till suddenly, Miss was in the shins kicked,

And in an instant, her handbag was nicked!


A loud scream left her old and wrinkly lips,

  “WHERE do you think you're going with my purse?!”

But the poor lady, with her ancient hips,

  Could hardly run for it, and thus did curse:

How dare he! You saw that? Blatantly grips

own things – how perverse –

Fuck wank bugger tits shit, arse-headed hole!

Run after him, that troll that my purse stole!”


Herc, though slightly shocked at Miss' display

'd ever heard,

Though of Herc's judgement of bad language I must say -

  His vision would be to some degree blurred;

Life on Olympus did not feature an array

  Of swear words – there, of course, in stead was preferred

To express oneself more delicately,

And swear, if one had to, eloquently.


Sometimes, the Gods are known to swear in French -

is said that it's the language of love -

And also, it will give a classical drench

  To whatever it is you're speaking of,

Whether it be business, or latest wooed wench.

  They always like to make sure, them above,

That their speech is foremostly aesthetic,

And their manner frantically poetic.


But Herc! Taken aback as he may be,

  As quickly as he could, started the pursuit.

Though the scoundrel, with great agility

  Had gotten a head's start on his chosen route,

Surely, no thing alive so fast did flee

  That Hercules, though, rough, tough and hirsute,

Could not catch it if he really wanted to.

A fact which our unfortunate thief never knew...


And he may well never find this thing out –

  He lived close to where Miss and Herc had walked.

Smart on his part, without a single doubt –

  He must have thought that out before he'd stalked

Our two protagonists, wand'ring about –

  In his house he went, the door he had locked.

But doors, of course, too, were no match for Herc

And he kicked the thing in with a wide smirk.


Surrender the old lady's belongings!”

  Herc bellowed, as he in the door did stand

Or I will do you a great many wrong things!

  I'm sure that this is not how you had planned

Your day this morning, or any of mornings,

give me that purse in your hand

Or I will beat you completely senseless

That much, you should be able to assess!”


Unfortunately, our brave little robber

  Wasn't that much of the assessing type.

So when he “Come at me bro, you slobber!”

  Yelled, he had no further moment to gripe –

Caution! The following may seem macabre –

  Herc hit his face in one long, valiant swipe,

And suddenly, all hell had broken loose

Between this mugger and the son of Zeus.


As their brawl started in the house's hall,

  Soon, a number of windows had perished.

Precious paintings, too, to the ground did fall,

  And pictures of his grandma, which the robber cherished.

And as the fight to the kitchen moved, all

  Cups from the cupboard presently vanished,

And landed right there on the robber's head,

Who, though queasy, to the living-room fled.


There, they rampaged the sofa and all seats,

  The mugger was putting up quite the fight,

But as red stains landed on a clean pile of sheets,

  Which before had been properly nice 'n white,

The robbers face found it'd taken enough beats –

  It had to admit; it wasn't all right.

So finally, he surrendered the purse –

He never did intend to end up in a hearse.


Come with me and make your apology!

  Maybe Miss Eurysthee will be so kind

As to, by strange twists of cosmology,

  Not go to the police, and leave behind,

An accusation of this chronology,

  If she does your 'sorry' sufficient find.”

The robber said no, and Herc smacked his face,

And marched away from this utter disgrace.


The robber'd now passed out, but Herc cared not,

  Whatever fate befell him, he deserved.

Should've known better!” Herc to himself thought,

  “Than to act so utterly unreserved.

Scumbag punks! May they perish, the whole lot!”

  Feeling, by this, so entirely unnerved

He, at length, did find his way back to Miss,

And the two hurried home, for a well-deserved piss.


But upon arriving home, them awaited

  Another voice-mail message from the mayor.

Though Miss seemed to be rather elated,

  Herc mumbled to himself a tiny prayer;

Heaven knows Miss'd do all he dictated,

  And Herc can now hardly be a naysayer.

So to the mayor's message they listened,

But at it, in Herc's eyes something glistened.


Canto Four

The Battle With The Eurythmic Boar


Because – what now appeared to be the case;

  The mayor was going to need Herc's skills,

But not on a tracking or fighting base,

  He wasn't going to have to make kills –

No – he was going to have to use grace,

  And other Godly features. Oh the thrills!

Herc was requested to show his best dance

Moves, wow, this was an incredible chance!


As it turned out, there was a dance-contest

  Being held tonight on the town square.

And as far as the mayor could attest

  The genre of ballet was still quite rare

Among the entry-list; so, he expressed

  The hope that Herc might represent that there!

(In case you're worried – the robber soon came to,

And, in the long-term, suffered naught but a flu.


As I mentioned before, dear reader,

  My very last intention would be to

Make you call your mum, and say you need her,

  'Cause some text made you feel bad through and through.

Though for the often phoning of mums, I'm a pleader;

  After all, she the one who birthed you –

Though I've never done that myself, and preferred

To keep it that way, I've heard it hurt.


But anyway! The robber is all right –

  About him, your mind needs not further think.

But if you must be distracted, you might

  Get yourself a glass of your fav'rite drink,

And maybe also some kind of a bite,

  We would not want your stomach to shrink!

You got them? Great! Well, back to our friend Herc

Who's now so happy he's going berserk!)


Ballet? Oh I LOVE ballet!” Herc exclaimed,

Now I didn't think I would like that, but I do!

Though I may not look it, I'm not ashamed

  To admit that it's MY dearest dancing-kind too!

By this, I feel not in the least defamed,

  I would gladly stand, for hours, in a queue

To see a performance by Beloserkovsky.

Oh how I'd love to be as good as he!”


But, though they may not be at top-level,

  My ballet skills should be quite good enough,

Or at least, they have been at many a revel –

  Saving me from a sudden dance-off bluff ,

At which my opponent I did dishevel


In this contest, with pride I shall enter!

Let us now go! Off to the town centre!”


So within an hour of going in it,

  Herc and Miss had again left their dwelling,

And wandered around for a little bit,

  When suddenly... What was't their noses were smelling?

Food! And then it suddenly them did hit;

  They hadn't eaten yet! So now them compelling

Them t'follow their noses, their stomachs were

nothing could them now from dinner deter.


They ordered the most charming fish and chips,

  And discussed their further course of action

In th'moments food was not passing their lips.

  'Cause in order to not become an attraction,

Miss pondered, as the chips went to her hips

  (Not that she cared to any dissatisfaction)

Herc would need to give the jury a pseudonym,

And 'twould have to be one that'd look good on him.


One can hardly enter under 'Herc, son of Zeus',

  That would positively be frowned upon.

No – another name they'd have to produce,

  Which did not include Herc being Zeus' son.

So they put their two brains to some good use,

  'N came up with the following name – hold on –

Just a second more, for dramatic emphasis –

George Gordon Dent! That's what Herc's name now is!


And on this note I must now take my leave,

  I have more pressing matters to attend.

Though sorry I am, I hope I don't aggrieve

  You much by leaving – I'm off to see my best friend –

She's been deprived of attention, you must believe,

  'Cause I've been writing all month long, and

We've yet to find, for our next holiday,

A tent. And some wellies, I do dare say!


The weather in England, I hear, has been ghastly,

  So we ought to get ourselves well-prepared.

would be nasty –

  Were we going to Spain, I shouldn't have cared –

But England it is! One thing then, lastly,

  Which I'd like to have, with you, reader, shared,

My advice; always dry behind your ears.

Though I'm now off, I will be back. Bye! Cheers!

© Copyright 2020 LP. All rights reserved.

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