Jack Conway

Atlas, you’re Homer. I am so glad you’re Hera. Thera so many things to tell you. I went on that minotaur of the museum. The new display centaurs on how you can contract Sisyphus if you don’t use a Trojan on your Dictys. It was all Greek to me, see. When I was Roman around, I rubbed Midas against someone. “Medea, you look like a Goddess,” he said. The Minerva him! I told him to Frigg off, oracle the cops. “Loki here,” I said. “In Odin times men had better manners.” It’s best to try and nymph that sort of thing in the bud. He said he knew Athena two about women like me, then tried to Bacchus into a corner. Dryads I could, he wouldn’t stop. “Don’t Troy with my affections,” he said. “I’m already going to Helen a hand basket.” I pretended to be completely Apollo by his behavior. If something like that Mars your day, it Styx with you forever. “I’m not Bragi,” he said. “But Idon better.” Some people will never Lerna. Juno what I did? Valhalla for help. I knew the police would Pegasus to the wall. The Sirens went off. Are you or Argonaut guilty, they asked. He told the cops he was Iliad bad clams. He said he accidentally Electra Cupid himself trying to adjust a lamp shade. This job has its pluses and Minos. The cops figured he was Fulla it. He nearly Runic for me. I’m telling you, it was quite an Odyssey, but I knew things would Pan out. And oh, by the way, here’s all his gold. I was able to Fleece him before the museum closed.