THE SIREN AND THE GREAK POTE

B. McGILLICUDDY

Simone, the siren, longed to be a simple, normal nymph. Not to say she didn't like herself, but normal nymphs seemed to have it so damn good. But honestly, the standards for being a goddamned "normal nymph" were just so absolutely contrived. THEY got assigned a tree or a stream or a cloud, instead of a siren's rock, but they had to stand still and look pretty ALL DAY LONG. On occasion they'd play an unfair game of impossible-to-fuckin-get with a mortal, but they weren't allowed to get caught by them, and it was "unfair" on account of their transformative capabilities: one minute you're chasing a hot, half-naked, giggling broad, and the next moment, you're running crotch-first into a goddamned rosebush. But the real downside was that normal nymphs had to take shit from (and pity fuck) any gods or demigods who happened to stroll through their forest, walk on their water, or hover aimlessly (hornily) through the sky. And the reason why it was always pity-fucking, was that all the gods and demigods, and please don't ask me how I know this, all had one-inch dicks. And I don't mean one-inch dicks, I mean ONE-INCH DICKS.

So Simone decided NOT to be a normal nymph. But there's a price that goes with that. And it's called "a curse". The fates came up from Hades and afflicted all not-normal nymphs with a curse, and Simone's happened to be that she could charm the pants off of any goddamned person she liked, but only if they could see her words. "Curse says you! Gift says I", BUT NO. You see, how does a siren, traditionally meant to woo a wanderer to his death against that rock she's graced with governance over, supposed to get a decent catch if she can't fucking sing!? "Oh" says you, "no shit" says I. But the fates aren't that mean. They gave her a 3G accessible laptop and a bucket of neon yellow paint.

THANK JOVE FOR THE INTERNET.

Ulysses, a chill-ass greak pote, replied to her ad on ψψψ.comehithersweetprince.κομ and started wandering the seas in search of a silent rock with neon paint on it. He went everywhere and every goddamned rock had a siren on it, singin' their songs and mesmerizin' and perplexin' the fuck out of him, but not the way that REALLY fucked him up, not the way he NEEDED. So he just kept on sailin' and kept on writin' his greak pomes. Finally, off in the distance, he saw a rock that emitted no sounds. A silent rock! And as he got closer he noticed that written ont he side of the rock, in neon yellow paint, it said "Yo, Ulysses, What up?" And he was smitten. And not like smitten-smitten. I mean like, he was smitten.

He saw Simone there, atop her rock, on her MacBook Pro, sitting, silently tapping away at her keyboard with a gloomy look on her nymphy face. So he crashed his boat into the rock, composed himself, checked for broken bones, looked for a few of the teeth he lost, held tight to the scroll he had brought with him and started strutting over to her. "Yo Ulysses, What up?" She said, recognizing him from his avatar.
"Not much." He replied.
"You don't got a boat anymore. You notice that?"
"Yeah, I guess."
"What's that scroll for?"
"So I can write greak pomes about you."
"Fo'reals!?"
"Yeah."
"That's fuckin' tight, yo."
"You're beautiful."
"Shit! You know everybody says that!? But I kinda like it most when you say it? Shit! That's awesome! Uhhh...Wanna take some pictures in PhotoBooth!?"
"Hell yes!"
"Hold on, lemme get naked first."

THE END.

Actually, the story gets a little more complicated than this, and includes some real emotions and tough lovin' and a little pain on both sides, but I think mentioning such things might end up taking away from it, so...

THE END AGAIN.

B. McGILLICUDDY