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“The Union forever defending our rights!” strum the Sirens. “Down with the blackleg, all workers unite!”

“Gee, this song is real good,” says Odysseus. “Better untie me, guys! Gotta hear this song!”

“Collective bargaining!” says Aglaope. “Strike for a safe workplace and fewer deaths by cyclops!”

“C’mon, this guy takes a decade to find his own house!” yells Thelxiepeia.

“Aww dang!” says Odysseus, glaring. His crew nods wisely, ears plugged. The ship moves on.

Thelxiepeia sighs. “Maybe we should get rid of the corpses?”

“It’s performance art about capitalism,” snarls Aglaope, and dusts one of the sailors rotting on the rocks.


“Now that’s a suitably epic conclusion!” smirks Odysseus, wiping blood from his spear.

“Epic?” says Athena. “That muse doesn’t exist yet, and this is the second epic ever, and its conclusion is me ex machina. Again.”

“I could have taken them,” says Odysseus, smearing bloody hands onto his bloody breastplate.

“Obviously,” mumbles Laertes. “You already killed their sons. And grandsons.”

“Whatevs!” says Odysseus, wading into bloody surf to blood the blood off his bloodblood. “I’m king again, at least until I die peacefully, in water, as prophesied!”

“Isn’t that something shiny?” points Athena.

“Wow!” says Odysseus, and strikes out from shore.