Sentenced...

I trudged towards what would be my fate. Sentenced for mocking the gods, I had flung a red Solo cup full of wine across the chest of a statue of Dionysus on a night of revelry. Some lightweight, sensitive weasel had seen me and reported me to a member of the Boule. My defense was drunkenness. The verdict was to face Dionysus himself, known to be a grumpy fellow, and to make him laugh. It was said that he never laughed…

I entered the temple, escorted by two hoplites in full battle dress. There was a high chair and smoke curled about making it difficult to see. The great god of wine, fertility and madness sat still on his throne. Four naked youths were standing nearby holding grapes, platters of cheeses and nuts and a richly adorned kylix of wine. The bearded god’s face did not move, he simply stared seemingly through me.

One of the youths, in a slight voice asked, “What brings him here?”

One of the hoplites said with a bellow, “This man has defaced the image of the great Dionysus, and has been sentenced to face him himself.”

Dionysus didn’t move.

The youth said, “What is his task?”

“To make him laugh,” the hoplite replied.

The youths began to giggle. I was in trouble.

The hoplites stepped back.

I stood alone in front of Dionysus.

I couldn’t help it.

I farted.

The youths froze with looks of horror on their faces.

Dionysus’s mouth began to twitch and he smiled and began to howl and guffaw with abandon. His head leaned back and he clutched his ample belly, jiggling about as he laughed uncontrollably.

The youths laughed nervously at first and then joined in with fits of hysteria.

Dionysus grabbed the kylix and tried to chug some wine but he laughed again, spewing it all about.

He looked at the hoplites and waved them to take me away.

I left the temple hearing the roaring laughter behind me.

Free to go, wine splattered across my tunic.