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December 26, 2012
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(Contains: ideologically sensitive material)
It's unbelievable. I go to all the trouble of swallowing six of my fresh-birthed progeny, one of whom is actually a godling-sized rock; spend the next few decades trying not to bust a damned gut; only to give 'em all the big heave-ho when that unplanned youngest son drops by, weapon in one hand and emetic in the other, offering me a bastard's choice: regurgitate, or become the beneficiary of an impromptu Caesarian.

Then that misbegotten offshoot decides to castrate me anyway, flipping me the finger by flipping my precious manhood into the flippin' sea. Promiscuous hypocrite.

And how do the mortals choose to commemorate this blatant coup d'état? With a year-end shindig, natch: a weeklong cycle of binging and purging, everyone trying their damnedest to bust a gut of their own. Then they exchange their so-called gifts, petty little trinkets that make even my severed member look opulent. And just to add insult to injury, their illustrious priests strip my feet of their damn woolen socks. For the whole week. Right at the onset of winter.

Why? Jupiter only knows, the traitorous bastard. They're mortals; that's reason enough for such incomprehensible tomfoolery.

But hey, at least there's an upside to this whole mess: I'm down six stone — in one case, literally! — and that godforsaken gut is gone. Go locate any statue of me, place your hand on my toga, and check out that slab of solid marble. Want to know what my big secret is?

Bulimia. And bad parenting.
:evileye: Satire-nalia? ✔
Up to 250 words? ✔
Rock-hard abs? ✔

:innocent: Props to =Cassildra and ^neurotype for the inspiration. And remember, kids, this is satire; eating disorders are no laughing matter — unless you're the king of the gods, taking the expression "children's meal" literally, in a futile attempt to thwart prophecy and not be overthrown.

(For the karma enthusiasts among you, Saturn was merely reaping what he'd sown, having done pretty much the same thing to his own father, Uranus. Sins of the father, those who forget history, yadda yadda yadda. :blahblah:)

The title is an expression the Romans loved to shout during the actual festival. A lot. Despite the intervening two-plus millennia, it translates almost perfectly as, "Heeey Macarena!" :la:

P.S. Wrote a second entry during the chat event Word Wars challenge; here's the link.

Stop, Diego, Stop!I suppose it's only natural that when one goes by the sobriquet Lightning Monkey, one will invite comparisons to Zeus. (I suppose it's better than being mistaken for Dora the Explorer's cousin, but not by much.)

When I try to explain that in real life, I'm neither simian in appearance (except vaguely) nor capable of thunderbolts (except after some really good chili), my pleas almost always fall upon deaf ears. "Surely, Diego," they say, "with a nickname as cool as that, you must have some sort of awesome superpower!"

Well, the truth is that I do. Except it's less of a superpower, and more of a super obstacle. Y'see, the thing is... I, um...


:reading: ~WordCount: 250 on the button, if you ignore those em dashes — which for some reason, OpenOffice won't. :facepalm:


Update, as of Jan. 2: This won? zOMGWTFBBQ! :faint:
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:iconneurotype:
neurotype Featured By Owner Jan 6, 2013  Hobbyist General Artist
Oh look, I failed to comment sooner!

I laughed. A lot. Although the abs I could actually feel would've needed a 500-word limit, I think I screwed myself there :saddummy:
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:iconhavetales-willtell:
HaveTales-WillTell Featured By Owner Jan 7, 2013  Professional Writer
No worries. I figured it was the whole, "I can't play favorites until after the contest is judged," thing. :shrug:

:strong: We could always get celebrity personal trainer Jillian Michaels to stop by. A few sessions with her, and I guarantee you'd be feeling your abs. As well as every other large muscle group in your body.

And how would they feel? Sore. They'd feel sore. :faint:
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:iconneurotype:
neurotype Featured By Owner Jan 7, 2013  Hobbyist General Artist
Yeah, that's always an issue :P

Or I could work out in the vicinity of my mother. Two days of sore muscles, plus the added bonus of one 53 year old woman who doesn't get it, guaranteed.
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:iconhavetales-willtell:
HaveTales-WillTell Featured By Owner Jan 8, 2013  Professional Writer
:? Your mother doesn't get why you'd want to be healthy? Or she doesn't believe in exercise?
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:iconneurotype:
neurotype Featured By Owner Jan 8, 2013  Hobbyist General Artist
No, she doesn't get why anyone would be sore after only thirty minutes of cardio boot camp :saddummy:
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:iconhavetales-willtell:
HaveTales-WillTell Featured By Owner Jan 13, 2013  Professional Writer
:facepalm: Ah.
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:iconneurotype:
neurotype Featured By Owner Jan 13, 2013  Hobbyist General Artist
:lol:
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:iconjamberry-song:
jamberry-song Featured By Owner Jan 2, 2013  Professional General Artist
Hahahaha! Very nice! XD
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:iconhavetales-willtell:
HaveTales-WillTell Featured By Owner Jan 2, 2013  Professional Writer
Thank you! Yours were fun to read as well; congrats on your own win. :D
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:iconmystery-of-brenna:
Mystery-of-Brenna Featured By Owner Jan 2, 2013  Student Writer
and bad parenting. hilarious!
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