“I think we’d better call it a day there, Jacob Daniels,” Zeus said, and stood up from his rocking chair. “I should also call back the rains before the native gods bust my balls.”

“The native gods can go fuck themselves, Mr. Zeus,” the old man replied. “They’ve given us nothing but drought for months. I do appreciate your help with the fields and sharing your story with an old geezer such as myself.”

“Your beers had me talking for hours,” Zeus said, looking up at the clouds that were now parting, leaving space for the moon to shine through. “We can continue again tomorrow.”

“More adventures, I suppose?” the man asked with interest as he held the door open for the god of thunder before pointing him to the small bedroom he’d prepared for him.

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“I’m ruminating on whether I should start at the point where we’re fighting some minor Norse gods with Ares,” Zeus said, as he stepped onto the creaking wooden floor of his bedroom for the night, “or when we were running for our lives and trying to get Hephaestus out of his prison.”

“You sure know how to make an old man’s blood boil with excitement, Mr. Zeus,” Jacob said. “You have a good night now.”

“Rest well, Jacob,” Zeus said. He stroked his long beard as he fell onto the simple bed that had been provided for him.

He hadn’t expected to enjoy this as much as he did. Reliving his past without worrying about anything or anyone for a while was liberating. He had missed these days of freedom, and he was looking forward to letting the world know the rest of his story.