Not Cronus - oh, no! Cronus
get mad? Never! Cronus get even? Perish the thought!"
Zeus stalked back and forth before the throne. His face was
turning red in exasperation, and sweat trickled from his brow.
Already the dark clouds were beginning to form above Olympus.
"Now you stop that!" Hera exclaimed. "And quit rambling! Do
tell the poor boy of Cronus' monstrous gift to the Gods! And do
get on with it!"
"Hmmm, yes, my dear. Where was I?" He wiped his brow.
"Cronus was furious. F . U . R . I . O . U . S!"
"The boy knows how to spell. Be a bit more concise, Zeus. You
know, we have this garden party shortly. Quickly now!" Hera was
petulant.
"Of course the boy knows how to spell. Eh, don't you, my lad?"
"Oh, yes, Sire! My mother taught me well. She says . . . "
"Another time, boy. Another time." Zeus brushed off his
comments.
"He was furious. He had no intent to get even. No way! Even
would never do. It was his wish to lay upon us troubles ten
times greater than those he received. Even? Ha!"
"And so he did. The Curse of Cronus! Has a nice ring to it,
don't you think. I remember well the ceremony. In deep sonorous
tones he enunciated those very words - The Curse of Cronus - and
then repeated it three times. Melodramatic type, he was. I could
almost hear the deep swelling boom of a gong as he ended each
pronouncement." He paused, seemed to be thinking.
"I've tried awfully hard, you know, to emulate that voice.
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