Ancient Downtime

Well, Idomeneus, you tell me then: when is it a good time to bring this topic up? Because frankly, you’ve been dodging it ever since we crossed the river Pindus. Now here we are, locked inside this gigantic wooden horse, waiting to surprise our enemies, and we’ve got a good two hours to kill and no games of chance on us. So why should we not talk about this? All I’m saying is, try to dry the flasks fully before you put them into the cupboard at night. It’s no fun picking up a flask and starting to fill it with sweet sweet wine and realizing there’s a few beads of water rolling around in there. It’s just gross somehow.

I don’t understand, how am I embarrassing you? Why is this not suitable talk for inside the Trojan Horse? I know this mission is vital to Greece’s defense. I know we’re not just out here to give Virgil something to write about. But there’s something else that’s important in this world, and that’s common courtesy. I’m fairly positive that every man in this rickety gizmo would gladly lie down and offer his spleen to the enemy rather than come home, looking forward to nothing more than a nice tankard or flagon or chalice of nectar after a hard day’s work, and see a little line of spitty-looking water dribble out when he holds the thing up to make sure there are no asps crawling around inside.

IT’S JUST NASTY, that’s why! I don’t care that all of human history is looking towards us at this moment on our day of legend. I WANT NICE DRY FLASKS IN MY HOUSE. Look, dorko, I’m paying five more drachmas in rent than you are every month, and I have to put up with your silly girlfriend staying over all the time and kicking the wall in her sleep with her big retarded foot so I can’t get some decent shuteye before a big battle, so I think I’ll just keep right on talking if you don’t mind.

Oh, sure, blame my castigations on boredom. Of course I’m bored. This is stupid. Why is everyone being so quiet? Is there a reason we can’t pass the time by playing Guess the Feared and Renowned Immortal God Who Doth Reside in the Stars Above Us By Posing Questions Twenty? I’m not in the mood to sit around listening to Diomedes’ teeth making that irritating whistling sound, I'll tell you that much. (Dude, I know we’re living a couple thousand years in the past and all, but there’s a few people here and there giving primitive dentistry a shot nowadays; you should have one of them check that out. Of course, they’re all outside where it’s sunny instead of being locked up in the dark like mushrooms.)

What? You have GOT to be kidding me. We’re not eating until AFTER the attack? Oh, thanks for telling me before I got in this glorified piñata, dillweed!