Humiliated

Dionysus motions to his server to get me a drink. Although I can already foresee a catastrophe, I shake my head timidly.

“No need for that,” I say quietly, “I do not drink.”

“At all?” asks Dionysus perplexed.

“Alcoholic beverages,” I clarify.

“Not even wine?” Dionysus asks, before taking a swig from his goblet. A drop of the golden liquid dibbles down his chin. Dionysus really is a slob, potentially an alcoholic, and definitely too frat-boyish, but I try to keep my disgust indiscernible.

“Your questions flatter me,” I reply, bowing my head slightly, “But I am here to entertain you.”

Dionysus perks up at this, a twinkle is his eyes, “You are a strange fellow,” he says, raising his goblet, “A toast to you.” I pretend to hold my own wine-filled goblet and Dionysus cracks a smile.

“You hold your goblet how do you would hold a staff?” Dionysus asks, motioning to my hand.

“No your highness, I hold my staff how I would hold a goblet,” I reply, “Because the staff and the goblet are not all dissimilar. May I demonstrate?” I do not wait for a response, I grab the nearest goblet, from right under an unsuspecting guest. I pretend to fight an invisible opponent, the goblet serving as my weapon.

“Die you fiend,” I yell out, swinging the goblet, excess wine falling onto the floor. I am not a funny man but dramatic I am and I know that the Greek gods and goddess are prone to their own dramatics. The room that was at one point humming, grows exponentially silent.

Dionysus rises from his chair, nostrils flaring, “You dare waste my wine,” he yells, becoming more and more agitated.

“Waste, who said anything about wasting,” I reply trying to defuse the situation. I drop to my knees and lap at the wine on the ground, feeling utterly humiliated. I do not look up until I hear thundering laughter. I sit back on my heels and let out a sigh of relief at the sight of Dionysus and his guests laughing, even if it is at the expense of my pride.

“Come in again next week,” Dionysus says, a temporary farewell.