"Well," Zeus growled at the dragon. "Don't just stand there.
The phone's over yonder. Make an appointment and get them
pulled. I do hope the dentist isn't all booked up."
The palace had all the jewels, all the objects of art, all the
trappings a person could desire. But for a country girl raised
in a small hut it lacked a prime requisite.
It flat wasn't homey.
Such was Persephone's evaluation.
Even that could have, over time, been corrected.
A second problem concerned her even more.
Her husband.
He wasn't presentable.
His looks were atrocious, his bearing boorish, and he could
only be described as uncouth.
He had one slight redeeming grace.
In his own strange way, he loved her.
That fact, more than anything else, made her unhappy.
If he were but toying with her she could willingly have
despised, yes, even hated him!
His love was real.
He showed it in his every attempt to be kind, in his watchful
manner. If she seemed to only hunger, he sent for food. If she
were only tired, he prepared her bed. If she showed sorrow he
tried to bring joy.
How miserable to be married to a monster with a kind heart!
Her feelings vacillated.
At times she hated him for having abducted her, for keeping her
from her mother and the flowery garden where she had played.
At times she pitied him for the suffering he bore
uncomplainingly.
Only she knew the sadness in his soul as each new sinner moved
into his kingdom.
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