Read More: A brief Q&A with Mario Aliberto III
They were only on the second slide of Marvin’s PowerPoint when he turned to the dozen or so Greek Gods assembled in the small conference room. “Any questions on the definition of nonconsensual contact?”
The Gods slouched in office chairs, slurped bitter coffee, and rolled their eyes (with the exception of the blind cyclops). Oh, and Hera was also an exception, sitting up straight, lips pursed, staring daggers at Zeus. Okay, yes, Poseidon as well, head on the conference table, snoring softly. That was fine. Maybe Marvin would get through this without interruption. He tapped his PowerPoint clicker against his leg.
“I have a question.” Zeus tugged his beard and arched a pompous eyebrow. “You’re trying to tell me, when I visited Alcmene disguised as her husband Amphitryon, and we conceived my son Heracles—Heracles pounded his bare chest and pointed his fist at Zeus. Zeus returned the gesture and leaned forward to bump knuckles—that was what?”
“No, don’t encourage him,” Marvin said, stepping between them, pushing down on Heracles’s arm.
Zeus winked. Kept his fist up.
“Nonconsensual,” Marvin sighed.
Heracles put his hands in his lap and looked down sadly.
“But she thought I was her husband. Oh, come on!” Zeus lifted his hands and shook his head in disbelief, surveying the room for agreement. As if Marvin were the fool.
“Still nonconsensual. If we can move on?” Marvin sighed. His thumb hovered over the clicker to proceed to the next slide.
“Pffffthhh. Next you’ll say Calisto was nonconsensual as well.” Zeus jerked a thumb at Marvin and elbowed Poseidon awake from his nap.
“Were you disguised?” Marvin asked in the dry tone of a Human Resources professional.
“As Artemis. A woman. I’m very progressive, you know.”
Artemis stood up suddenly in the back, tipping her chair over, and threw her hands up like, What the fuck?
Zeus gave her a thumbs up.
“Nonconsensual,” Marvin said.
“The lovely Leda, when I was swan? That couldn’t be—”
“Did you ask for consent?”
“Did you hear the part where I was a swan?”
“Nonconsensual.”
“Metis and Nemesis. I changed my form many, many times with each.”
“Nonconsensual. Nonconsensual.”
Hera crossed her arms.
Zeus audibly swallowed. “Rhea? One does not need consent from one’s mother. And…and she transformed into a snake, and I transformed into a snake, and I pursued her.” He shaped his hands into snake heads, wiggled his arms and slammed them together in a disgusting mime of snake fornication. “We were both snakes.”
Marvin’s headache began at his temples and worked its way behind his eyes. “Nonconsensual. It doesn’t matter if you’re snakes. I don’t know how to make this any clearer. You need articulate consent from your partner. Every time.” Then, sotto voce, “Your own mother? How did people ever worship you?”
Zeus grumbled, “As if anyone can understand consent from a snake. So many ssssss sounds.”
Hera stood and looked down on her husband. “I think you should be quiet and listen to the mortal’s presentation.”
“Someone seems to think snakes are only good for killing babies,” Zeus said.
Had Hera the powers of the gorgon Medusa, Zeus would be stone.
“What’s that about killing babies?” Marvin said. […]
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Mario Aliberto III is a Pushcart nominated writer whose work is published with The Sonora Review, Fractured Lit, Tahoma Literary Review, and others. He lives in Tampa Bay with his wife and daughters, and yet the dog still runs the house.
Read More: A brief Q&A with Mario Aliberto III