War Returns to Hurlshome

Excerpts from History of the Argottean Federation

Chapter 4, continued

1 Hurl 312—Palace of War, Hurlshome. On a snowy outcrop of methane ice, the sixty large fireplaces that were laid in for today’s celebration once again warm the forty foot, yellow granite, crenellated walls that enclose War’s palace. Today War and his select minions, Courage, Bravery, and Honor, returned to Hurlshome unhappy they are not needed by the Argotteans for the civil war that has yet to ravage a square inch of either parties territory.

“We weren’t wanted, no one called on us to participate,” Bravery reported to the Gods. “The whole thing is happening on paper. Oh, they’re calling up young men and women to serve in what they call a military organization, but they’re not being taught how to fight, how to shoot, or how to defend against a sneak attack. I couldn’t see where I belonged.”

“They certainly had no need for me, either,” Courage added. “Once I figured out they were learning to dance and not fight, I couldn’t see how I could help. Besides, it was the silliest dances you’ve ever seen. I’ll tell you one thing, the next time I’m asked to vote on giving humans freewill, I’m voting no.”

“And, I can tell you one other thing,” Courage continued, “these Argotteans will put the concept of war back into the far corners of time and space. Personally, I think this whole race is insane. Look what they did to Hurl. She was the most vibrant, provocative god any human would give their eye teeth to worship, but look at her now, she’s got the head of a pig and has a nose that won’t stop running, no matter how many decongestants she takes. We should have seen it coming. Somebody should have done something when they had a chance to change things.”

“But the worst thing about this whole endeavor,” Honor said, “is that they are completely ignoring I exist. They’re going to perform dances amongst each other. They’re going to get their young people to dance for them, but not your ordinary, every day dances. No! These dancers will be given weapons like broccoli flails, lentil forks, shit scrapers, and, I think, yes, those long pointy stick thingies, cattle prods I think they call them. But, these are only representations of the real thing because these have really sharp points and edges for stabbing and slicing the members of the other dance team.”

“And, they’re going to perform these dances in arenas throughout Argotte and on each Solar Orbiting Habitat,” added War. “They’ll have dances until one side ends up with more people than the other side. Lots of firm young partially clothed bodies prancing, swirling, squatting, turning, high stepping, swooping around with long sharp thingies jabbing at members of the other teams who are doing the very same thing to them. Oh, there will be blood and guts, severed limbs, and untold festering wounds, but they certainly won’t need us. Possibly the Artistic Muses may be of assistance, but not Bravery, Courage, or Honor. No, these Argotteans are the sorriest excuse for humans the Game has ever come up with. I wonder what combination caused this fiasco.”