By Martin H. Levinson

Melancholia was the daughter of Polemius, the God of Adhesives, and Daphne, the Goddess of Grape Juice. She was the offspring of an unhappy union, for when she was a babe she was glued to her highchair by her father who then struck her mother with an anvil and turned himself into a roll of Scotch tape to avoid the wrath of Zeus. But Zeus was not so easily deceived and he fired a bolt of lightning as big as the Chrysler Building at the disguised Polemius, which caused Polemius to melt into a puddle of plastic that was licked up by Cerberus, the three-headed dog of the underworld.

Melancholia found herself abandoned and stuck in a place she wanted no part of and if it had not been for Eucalyptus, the Goddess of air fresheners and medicinal teas, and her son Maalox, the God of regularity, she would have wound up with Eurydice in Hadestown. But the gods had other things planned for Melancholia and before you could say “what the hell is this story all about” she was swept into the sky by a strong north wind that had been sent by Fistula, the God of abnormal connections, who desired her in a licentious sort of way.

While all this was happening Borax, the God of household cleaners and laundry detergent boosters, and his wife Clorox, the Goddess of liquid bleach, were conspiring with Sangria, a cocktail fit for the Gods that comes from Spain, to kidnap Melancholia and hold her for ransom. Unfortunately for them, Tumult, the God of chaos, and Kardashia, the Goddess of reality TV programs, discovered the plot and told Fistula about what Borax, Clorox, and Sangria were planning.

Fistula asked his nephew Hermes, the messenger God of fine leather and silk products, and his niece Hera, a very powerful Goddess known mostly for her jealousy and her tight designer dresses, to help him stop Tumult and Kardashia from absconding with Melancholia. They agreed to assist him and called on Potholus, the God of ruined roads, to create fissures on the path that Tumult and Kardashia would have to take to get to Melancholia, who, after being swept up to the sky, had landed on a beach in Carmel, California where she was living with Hephaestus, the God of names that are incredibly difficult to spell.

Meantime, Zeus was having second thoughts about his decision to liquefy Polemius. So he called on Calypso, the Goddess-nymph of the mythical island of Gilligan, who advised him to see her cousin Cronos, the God of time and six-letter words not legal in Scrabble, and ask him if he would set his clocks back to before the hour when Zeus threw his thunderbolt at Polemius.

Cronos agreed to Zeus’s request and set his timepieces back to even earlier than Zeus asked him to, which enabled Zeus to have his granduncle Hypnos, the God of hocus-pocus, hypnotize Polemius into a state of perfect composure, which allowed Daphne and Melancholia to be spared the terrible fates that befell them when this tale began.

And this is why we must always hope that the gods are with us when it comes to granting do-overs and maintaining good family relations and that they will take pity on us if we decide to paste our children to their seats and/or do away with our spouses.