Boy, am I ever in a slump! Here I sit, it's Spring Break -- the longest holiday I will have until next Xmas -- and the weather is straight outta February. To make matters worse, I'm now gun-shy about writing on this platform, since the Trickster God of keyboarding wants to blot out all my hard work.
But soft! There's someone at the door! Oh. My. Goodness. I wish this God was more welcome here than he is. All the same, let's give a warm, wonderful "Gods Are Bored" welcome to Dionysus, God of boozy parties!
Dionysus: Anne, baby! Spring Break! It's time to partayyy!
Anne: Don't you remember, Dion? I packed it in. I don't drink anymore. I just went to a wedding last weekend, and I didn't even have a glass of champagne.
Dionysus: And you wonder why you're so unhappy? I've got about 10 picker-uppers that will light your fire.
Anne: Nah, bro, I've been off the sauce for five years now. Mostly I don't miss it.
Dionysus: Don't expect me to nominate you for a position as a nymph or a dryad, or any of that! Grapes are good. Especially fermented.
Anne: Stop! You're not cheering me up! You're making it worse!
Dionysus: Well, if you're not jonesing for some vino, why else would you be depressed?
Anne: Do you want the whole list, or just the top ten?
Dionysus: Killjoy! Look, there's a sports bar within walking distance! Go up there and watch the NCAA finals, grab yourself a brewski. You've even got a local team in the game ... and I recall that when you and I were bffs, back in the day, you were a Michigan fan.
Dionysus: Whoa, you are definitely in Downerville. Catch a God up. What's the problem?
Anne: We've got the worst president in my lifetime. He's so bad, I can't even joke about him.
Dionysus: As bad as Caligula?
Anne: Getting there.
Dionysus: ... Because no one could joke about him either.
Anne: This cold spring is a bummer too.
Dionysus: Come to sunny Italy with me! We'll eat some fish, some pasta, drink some red wine ...
Anne: STOP ALREADY! All I want to do right now is buy myself a big plate of pasta and a bottle of wine! You're a terrible God.
Dionysus (proudly): I do my part. Hey! Where's that cute little tabby cat?
Anne: She died.
Dionysus: Aww. I liked her. But ... you had a birthday not long ago, right?
Anne: Okay, I'm usually polite, but fuck you. I don't want to contemplate my age. Or my dead cat.
Dionysus: Well, surely you've been posting witty stuff on your blog ...
Anne: Not a thing.
Dionysus: Anne. You've got to get a grip ... around a nice crystal wine goblet! Everything looks bright through the bottom of the glass.
[Dionysus spills a whole bottle of finest cabernet on Anne's sofa.]
Anne: Gods damn it! Things were bad enough around here! Look what you've done to my upholstery! Ruined! That's it. Out you go.
Dionysus: All right. Be that way! I'm off to the sports bar!
Anne: Knock yourself out. If there's anything worse than thinking about Donald Trump in a sober fashion, it would be thinking about Donald Trump after a bottle of whatever that awful deity just dumped on my furniture. Guess I could take a small comfort in that.