Quickly he retreated.
This required rethinking! Not so simple a chore as he had
thought!
Back to Olympus! I must talk to Zeus! No way!
He arrived at Olympus. Zeus was absent. "He is on a . . .," his
gardener smiled, ". . . on a hunting trip." He winked.
Suddenly a loud screech disturbed their ears.
"Oh, dear!" The gardener wrung his hands. "That's Hera! The
flowers are growing so poorly. I've spent hours tending them.
But they will not grow in this kind of soil. I've told Zeus a
thousand times. Olympus is just too pure!"
Hera entered.
"I will not have my flowers drooping, my bushes wilting! I may
well have my gardener in that condition if he tends not to my
garden!"
The gardener cringed.
"What are you doing here. Did not Zeus send you out on another
of his ridiculous chores. Begone, then, for I am not fit company
today!" She stomped back to her patio, giving one last angry
look at the gardener.
Demo frowned. "Well, I wish I could help. Anyway, I'm not much
of a gardener. I know we use fertilizer on our plants. Mostly we
use . . . ." He paused. A thought had entered his mind.
"Sir, perhaps this is your lucky day!"
"This boy, eh, the one who sold you the fertilizer for the
vinyard and for Hera's garden," Zeus paused, a slight frown on
his face. The clouds above Olympus darkened, and a low rumble of
thunder sounded in the distance. "This boy wasn't too smart, you
say?"
"Oh, no! Smart? Ha!"
"At first he wanted ambrosia, wine, women - for fertilizer!
Ridiculous! He talked! And talked.
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