Ithaca was just in sight. Though his adventures had altered him beyond recognition, the grouch was eager to see his family again, with the same ardor as if he were receiving a penance for his sins.
Their sight to Ithaca was cut off by another boat. The crew ground their oars on the waters and the two boats were still.
A man presented himself from the intervening boat. His name was Jason.
Again, this is all historically accurate.
Jason wound a long story that it was his destiny to fetch the fleece of a winged, golden-haired ram; that the fleece was hung on a tree in Cochis, guarded day and night by an unsleeping dragon; that on the way, they fought women with the wings of eagles; that they met singing women at sea, who lured men to their doom; that they encountered a man three hundred, yes, three hundred feet tall, made of bronze, with a weak vein running to his ankle. Even Socrates was not dim enough to believe this story.
This is all nice, the grouch said, but I am trying to get home.
Jason raved that his crew consisted of the best of humanity; no one could match them, save the gods; and if there was a task they could not do, then it could not be done.
This fired the philosophers, for they felt they were the best humanity had to offer. They asked to duel Jason and his Argonauts.
I propose, Jason cried haughtily, that we compete in games the first of their kind in all the civilized world: the Olympics.
The second of their kind, Andy corrected.
Could we not play these games on Ithaca? the grouch sighed.
And so it was decided: the crews of both ships bound their vessels through planks of wood, so that they would duel on the ships that had gave them hope and survival on the cruel and capricious seas.
The first competition was a race, between Atalanta and Laozi; Atalanta leapt over the planks, wound around the mast, dove beneath the sails, swung on ropes; the exile stumbled over his beard. The Argonauts were one up.
The second competition was a discus toss, between Castor and Confucius; Castor swung round and round, huffing and heaving, flexing the wrinkle of muscles around his waist, and, with a hearty yell, hurled the discus far, into the horizon; the know-it-all argued that it was a waste of a perfectly good disc, and forfeited. The Argonauts were two up.
The third competition was pole vaulting, between Pollux and Moses; Pollux, fleet of foot, ran and ran the length of the ship, breathed in a great breath of air, strained his chest, pushed the pole down and carried himself over the boom of the mast, like a dolphin leaping through the air, spraying water round his fins, then landed on a pillow of down his mates had prepared for him; the prophet said his doctor did not recommend poles nor vaulting for his diet, and abstained. The Argonauts were three up.
The fourth competition was fencing, between Meleager and Siddhartha; now, being raised as a prince, Siddhartha was well-versed in the martial arts, and so gave Meleager a good thrashing; they were now one-to-three.
The fifth competition was wrestling, between Theseus (no relation) and Socrates; Socrates, too, because of his frequent visits to the gymnasium and his familiarity with young men, knew a thing or two on wrestling, and pinned Theseus to the ground, where he cried Uncle; they were now three-to-two.
The sixth competition was chessboxing; Gary mouthed to Andy, They had chessboxing back then?; evidently they did, and it was between Heracles and Zoroaster; Heracles grinned, for he was the strongest man in antiquity, he even shot an arrow at the sun, and the sun cried Mama; he stood tall, his back broad with muscles, his calves bulging with muscles, his arms thick with muscles, more muscles could not be found on a man; the grouch’s crew mewled, for they did not want the thinker to die, but mostly because they did not want to lose; but the thinker looked deep into his soul, and inquired at the grand truth of the universe, which said, Whatever is, is, and so he went bravely to battle. As it turned out, Heracles was good at the boxing part, but not very good at the chess part, and so, after many punches were thrown, and many pieces were hopped and sacrificed, the thinker won. They were now tied.
Jason, in a rage, stamped up and down, and proposed a race: whoever stepped foot on shore first, won. And so the crews leapt into the bowels of their respective ships, and put their sweating, eager hands on their oars; someone cried, Go! and they were off; foam was spattered on the waters, the seas shook beneath their wakes, sweat dripped from their brows, it seemed even the seagulls were slow; until finally, they hit land.
The grouch leapt out onto land. He was greeted by a man in feathers holding a turkey.
Giving thanks, anyone?
They were in America, again.
The Wampanoags asked Massasoit Sr. why he insisted on giving every stranger he saw a free turkey. He asserted: Surely they’ll be so overjoyed they’ll name a holiday after me, Massasoit Day. Besides, turkey puts people in a not-killing mood, such that they and their ancestors would never, ever want to kill us.
© 2025 Jay Lee