Hercules Shrugged

Hercules Shrugged

“Are you coming to church, Wally?”

“Yes, I have a special intention.”

“No, Wally, you can’t do that.”

“Why not, Gladys? If you can pray for your beast of a sister to recover from her big toe surgery, I can ask for a little nudge to get Junior headed in the right direction in life.”

“Wally, you can’t ask God to get your kid to play football. Besides, it’s his life. You have to let him do what he wants to do, allow him to pursue his dreams.”

“Gladys, the kid is 6’2’’, weighs 215 lbs., and runs like a freaking gazelle. And he’s just going into high school! He could get a college scholarship, maybe even the pros. He could be a great linebacker.”

“You can’t tell Junior what he has to be in life.”

“I’m not saying that at all. He doesn’t have to be a linebacker. He could be a tight end or strong safety, and if we got him bulked up enough, maybe even…”

“No, Wally, he needs to do what he wants to do.”

“But, Gladys, he wants to be…I can hardly speak the words…a poet.”

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Wally sat in the pew preparing his supplication to the Almighty. He wanted to get this just right, but his train of thought was interrupted by the frequent, disapproving looks from his wife who knew full well what he was up to.

Ok, God, I’m a reasonable guy, but here’s the deal. You made him the magnificent physical specimen that he is. I know that if You wanted him to be a poet, You would have given him a Pee Wee Herman body. But You made him in the image of a linebacker, so I’m just trying to help him fulfill God’s will, if You will. Please send the Holy Spirit or whoever you send to handle stuff like this to get his head straight. Thank you. Amen.

Wally thought it went pretty well as he left the church. He felt a certain peace, a sort of confidence after making his case. Now he would just wait for a little heavenly magic.

----------

“Say, Junior, we still have some daylight left. What say we go out and toss the old pigskin around?”

“ I’d love to Dad, it really sounds like a blast, but I want to read, some Frederic Ogden Nash.”

Who the hell is Frederic Ogden Nash?

“Come on, it’ll be fun.”

“Maybe later, alligator.”

“Gladys, have you noticed that Junior seems to always be speaking in rhymes lately?”

“Just your imagination, Wally. You’re too worried about all this poetry stuff.”

Perhaps. Wally didn’t have much of an ear for it, but he sensed attempted artistic flair in nearly all of Junior’s verbal communications. An answer to his prayers could not come soon enough.

---------

Wally time. Sitting out on the back porch downing a couple of cold ones, his eyes on the moon and his mind on Junior as he imagined his son tearing up running backs while the crowd went wild. The rustling in the bushes at the back of his yard grabbed his attention.

The light of the moon revealed the figure of a very large man with long shaggy hair, riddled with rippling muscles, wearing sandals and draped in half a white sheet striding toward him. Wally was too frozen in shock and fear to retreat into his house. When the man reached the porch, he looked down at a notepad.

“Are you Wally Johnson?”

“Uh…yes I am.”

“Jesus Christ, this place was a bitch to find. You guys gotta put up better street signs, and maybe some brighter lights. This is nuts. Well, at least I found you.”

“Uh…and who are you, and… why were you looking for me?”

“Hercules is the name, but you can call me Mr. Hercules.”

“Yeah…right…Hercules…”

“Mr. Hercules.”

“Oh yes, Mr. Hercules. And what brings you here, Mr.Hercules?”

“I believe you called. I’m the answer to your prayers.”

“What are you talking about?”

Hercules glanced back down at his notebook. Except for the lack of a raincoat and the visitor’s immense size, Wally might have thought he was dealing with Columbo.

“I have it right here. Nine forty-five, a call to Zeus from Wally. You are Wally, right?”

“Yes, but I didn’t call no Zeus…”

“It was about someone you call Junior. Sounds like you’re worried about him becoming some kind of a poet-wuss, and you want him to be a linebacker. What’s a linebacker?”

“A linebacker is…wait a minute. How do you know all this stuff?”

“It was in your prayer. You touched a nerve with Zeus…he says you sounded…wait a second, I have it here in my notes…desperate, pathetic, and weepy.”

Nine forty-five. Suddenly it hit Wally. That’s when he would have been in church asking for an intervention for his son.

“I might have thrown out a little prayer this morning, but it was not to some Zeus character…and I wasn’t weepy, maybe just a little teary-eyed.”

“Let me stop you right there. You seem like a nice guy, so I have to warn you. You don’t want to be calling Zeus a character. He’s got a hair trigger with the bolts and lightning stuff. We’ve been trying to get him to take some anger management classes, but he’s pretty stubborn. You need to show a little respect. Now, back to your prayer.”

“Yes, but that was directed to God, not to…Zeus, or Mr. Zeus, if you prefer.”

“It’s like one of those courses in logic, Wally. You said a prayer asking for God’s help, Zeus is a god, therefore you prayed to Zeus. Sometimes this stuff gets cross-wired. You Christians don’t have a monopoly on gods, you know. Do you want help or not?

Wally was close to giving the boot to the unusual stranger, but then he remembered his son curled up on the sofa the night before, under a rose-colored blanket with little white ponies, sipping a grande something-something latte, and reading the biography of Robert Frost.

“So, what do you do exactly?”

“Well, as you know…or should know, I’m the god of strength, athletics, and courage. I inspire, kind of like the Holy Spirit stuff but with a little more machismo. Think of a Knute Rockne halftime speech to his players, or Braveheart, or Lieutenant Travis at the Alamo.”

“And how do you do that?”

“We gods work at night when the subject is sleeping. We get into their heads, their dreams, plant some seeds, and light a few fuses. We’re right there with them. It’s a very realistic experience. You might think of it as though we’re able to slip one of those virtual reality headsets on them. They’re asleep, but they’ll remember. If I may say so myself, I’ve got a pretty good track record.”

“You’ve had success in the past?”

“Tons. You’ve heard of Muhammed Ali?”

“Of course.”

“Well, he wanted to be a ballet dancer before his dad called me.”

“No way.”

 “And John Wayne was into ribbon dancing until I got a hold of him.”

“My goodness. What would you say is your greatest accomplishment?”

“That would have to be Rambo. I saved him from a lifetime of cake decorating and flower arranging.”

“Holy crap! This sounds great! When do we start?”

“I’ll pay him a little visit tonight.”

---------

“Good morning, Junoir. Did you sleep well?”

“I slept like a baby, and I don’t mean maybe.”

Wally’s optimism slipped a notch.

“Listen, I thought maybe we could go to the ‘Y’ today, you know, get a little workout in.”

“Jeepers creepers, Dad, I’d love to go, but I’m going to a lecture, on Edgar Allen Poe.”

---------

“You’ve got to be patient. Last night was more of a ‘meet-and-greet’, you know, to feel him out, get to know the subject a little, learn what makes him tick. I did get into his head a little.”

“What was going on in there?’

“Your kid is a mess.”

“Yeah, I kind of knew that. But what did you see?”

“I don’t know how to tell you this, but Junior thinks he’s Robert Frost.”

“Oh, my God.”

“Yes, and thank you for the… belated… acknowledgment that you’re dealing with one of the gods.”

“You’re welcome. So why do think he’s a little woo-woo?”

“Well, he kept thinking he was Robert Frost trying to figure out which road to take, and then he finally stopped someplace with a confused horse on a snowy night for no reason and then couldn’t get to sleep.”

“That is messed up. Did he have any thoughts about throwing or catching a football, or lifting weights, or any manly he-man stuff like that?”

“Nada, nothing, zippo, squat.”

“So, what did you do?”

“I just floated some thoughts his way. We call it virtual reality messaging.”

“Like what?’

“Well, some clips showing the joy of beating the tar out of your fellow man, with all glory to the victor, things like that.”

“Nice.”

“And lots of stuff on the high school football star getting the hot chicks and the NFL players driving hot cars and wearing lots of shiny bling.”

“I like it! That’s what I’m talkin’ about.”

“And after the carrots, I hit him with some of the sticks coming his way if he keeps going with this sissy poetry crap- eating lunch at the nerd table, at prom with a fatty, and kids laughing at him while he reads poems wearing thick lens glasses with heavy black frames, a bow tie, and short pants.”

“Perfect!”

“But of course, the focus is on the manly stuff, you know, what matters in life, physical domination over anything the mind can come up with.”

“I can see where your method works wonders.”

“More tonight.”

---------

Wally was fliipin’ burgers when Junior came home.

“How was work today, Junior?”

“We just did the regular stuff. I still don’t think I get paid enough.”

“Uh, Junior, do you know that you almost always speak in rhyme lately? What’s up with that?”

“I really don’t think so, Dad. And if I did, would that be so bad?”

“There! You just did it again!”

“Sorry, Dad, you must be mistaken, and I’ll take a burger, with cheese and bacon.”

---------

“It’s driving me nuts, Gladys. The kid is a rhyming machine. This poetry stuff is getting ridiculous. It’s making me crazy. He thinks he’s Robert Frost!”

“Robert Frost? Why do you say that?”

“Oh…no reason.”

----------

“Hercules, I mean Mr.Hercules. How did it go last night?”

“Not good.”

“What’s wrong?”

“We’ve got trouble, but at least I know what the problem is.”

“What’s that?”

“Apollo.”

“Huh?”

“That freaking little wimpy weasel got to him before I did. Apollo’s all about that artsy-fartsy crap, and he’s been poisoning our boy’s mind for a long time.”

“I knew it! I knew it wasn’t bad parenting. What can we do?”

“I’d kick his ass off Mount Olympus and send his sorry butt to Hades right now, but Athena’s fond of him.”

“Athena?”

“Athena is Zeus’s daughter. Apparently, she loves all that sappy, romantic drivel Apollo throws at her. And I overheard Aphrodite talking to some of the other goddesses the other night, and it sounds like he could also be called the god of the big ... Well, I'll be delicate and won't say, but I think you get the picture. That could be another reason why the goddesses all favor him. But whatever it is, we gotta get past him.”

“You have a god for that? Amazing. I’m sorry to cause you so much trouble.”

“That’s ok, it’s what I do. I make men all they can be. Besides, now that I know Apollo is on the other side, it’s personal. I can’t let them little milksop beat me. I’ll kick it up a notch tonight. Junior is mine!

---------

“Give it up, Wally. Some kids like spinach, some don’t. You love football, he doesn’t.”

But Wally couldn’t accept it. Wally played football. Wally’s father played football. Both were average players, and he knew his son had all the tools to be a superstar. Junior was what the Friday night lights were made for. And there was that college scholarship looming on the horizon. He already had visions of sitting alongside Junior in the Green Room waiting for his son’s name to be called in the NFL Draft. And now with a real-life made-to-order god on his side, he knew his dream would become a reality. He could take the high road and leave the dirty work to his new partner, Hercules.

“Perhaps you’re right, dear.”

Heh, heh, heh.

----------

“You going to bed already, Junior?”

“No, Dad. I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep.”

That boy is losing it.

----------

“Good morning, Mr. Hercules.”

“Look, Wally, you seem like an ok dude, why don’t you just call me Hercules?”

“Thank you, Mr. Hercules…I mean Hercules. Did you make any progress last night?”

A wry smile preceded the answer.

“Are you familiar with that iconic picture of Ali standing over Frazier after decking him?”

“I’ve seen it a thousand times.”

“Well, the poster is hanging in your kid’s head right now.”

“Marvelous!”

“And Al Michael’s call at the Miracle on Ice?”

“Sure, I’ve heard it.”

“I looped ‘Do you believe in Miracles?!’, and it will be playing in Junior’s head all day long.”

“That’ll fire him up!”

Hercules paused and looked down at his sandals and then back up at Wally.

“Is there something else, Hercules?”

“Well…oh, it’s not important, and not really work-related anyway.”

“What is it?”

“Ok, you know, when I’m camped out in Junior’s head, I pick up on things.”

“Like?”

“Did you know that Robert Frost wrote over a thousand poems?”

“What?”

“Yeah, at least that’s what many people claim. One thousand! Wow, that’s a lot of poems.”

“Hercules, why are you…”

“And now I understand about the two roads; one taken, one not taken. See, you can only take one road, but you have to wonder about the road not taken. And that horse I told you about might have been confused because…”

“Hercules! Don’t be going soft on me. You’ve got to stay focused!”

“Of course. I just thought it was…interesting.”

----------

Wally was worried. His super-secret weapon was reading, or at least absorbing, the works of Robert Frost. My God, that was like fraternizing with the enemy! Hercules? Could he possibly be faltering? Robert Frost? Has the world gone mad? Was he wrong to put all his eggs in the Hercules basket?

What to do, what to do? Junior would be out with friends tonight. He could sneak into his room and swipe anything having to do with poetry or any other material bearing intellectual value. No, that wouldn’t be right. Besides, Gladys might catch him in the act. Money? Straight unabashed bribery to get him out on a football field? No, the payoffs might never end. Faith, Wally, have faith in that mountain of a man, the patron of all manly endeavors. Think, Wally. He is Hercules! Who could resist the strength of Hercules?! Attitude is everything, Wally. You’ve got the toughest guy in history on your side. Believe! Hercules unchained!

----------

Wally sat on his back porch and waited, growing more anxious by the minute. He finally heard the usual rustling in the bushes, and the massive Hercules appeared. But instead of a proud, powerful, bold stride, his sandals slowly shuffled across the lawn. He approached Wally with his head tilted downward and barely made eye contact.

“Hello, Wally.”

“Hercules! Where have you been?

“Well…”

The word “well” seldom carries a meaningful message, but this time it did. The voice was shakey, soft, barely audible, and the word nearly came out in three syllables. Wally sensed a problem.

“What’s wrong, Hercules?”

“You’re going to be mad at me.”

“Why? What happened?”

“Well, when I got there, Apollo was already in your kid’s head.”

“Did you kick his ass?”

“Not exactly. You see when I got there, Aphrodite was there with him.”

“What?! What were they doing?”

“She’s the goddess of love, Wally.”

“Oh, my God! In Junior’s head?! Not with that virtual reality thing I hope!”

“I’m afraid so, Wally.”

Hercules’ head dropped a little lower.

“And then what, Hercules?”

“Wally…I was weak, and Aphrodite is beautiful...”

I don’t like where this is going.

“…and Apollo is a cunning rascal.”

“So what happened?!”

“It turns out that Apollo wanted to win the mind and heart of Junior as much as I did, so he made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.”

“What was that?”

“I give up on Junior and leave him to Apollo, and Aphrodite and I…”

“You threw me under the bus for a hookup with some goddess?!”

“Actually, it was a three-way. And like I said, she’s so beautiful. You should meet her sometime.”

“Aah! You son-of-a-bitch! And a three-way! You sick son-of-a-bitch!”

“Sorry about that.”

“Sorry?! I don’t freaking believe this. Mr. Tough-Guy-Great-Warrior my butt! You sold me out for some babe!”

“A really hot babe, Wally.”

“Oh, my God, back to square one.”

“Listen, I feel bad about this.”

“You should feel bad.”

“I didn’t want to leave you hangin’, so I’m going to have my buddy HS pay you a visit. He might be able to help you out.”

“HS?”

“Yes, the Holy Spirit. We go back a long way. He owes me one.”

“You’re kidding.”

“No, I’m totally serious. I think he can help you out. He excels at getting people’s minds straight.”

“Where do I find him?”

“He finds you.”

----------                                                                       

“Wally, Junior’s up next.”

         “Whose woods these are I think I know,

          His house is in the village though;

          ……… And miles to go before I sleep.”

A little tear formed in Wally’s eye as he leaned over and whispered to the gentleman seated beside him.

“That’s my son up there.”