Our little “get together” was, as usual, a rager, guaranteed to garner complaints from Olympus on noise level. And questionable taste. Our Underworld soirees are the spawning ground for teenaged rebellion, and the apparent genetic need for kids between the ages of 14 to 23 to consume large quantities of malted alchohol and bump like rabbits.

For a change the party was not in Elysium, the preferred female haunting ground. Hades wasn’t allowed in there, and neither were his buddies, so it was a great place to torment him. The party was in honor of the visit of Ol’ Smokey Drawers’ oldest (and may I also say he’s one of his few) friends. A northern boy, apparently. I had not yet conversed or even seen this mystery entity, as he had been quite busy boinking his way through the female population of the UnderWorld. I wasn’t there to see the guest of honor; I was there to get tanked and see my friends. I swear that alcoholism found conception here as well.

The meeting place was Erebus; Hades’ and Seph’s living quarters. It’s a ...well, not softer.. let’s just say less hard portion of the land of the dead, thanks to our resident spring goddess turned beatnik poet’s decorating skills. Erebus was as soft and bright as it got.

Erebus was rocking. Noise of every kind assulted my eardrums; from loud talk to loud rock to imps left and right acting as waiters and dropping things. The ragged hemline of my short chiton brushed idly against my thighs, and the obsidion stare of my sandal clasps flashed in the dim, unhappy light. A row of eyes marching up my legs and ending at my knees. My gaze swept the crowd, looking for one of my cronies. I hate that first moment of entrance at a party; I feel as though my awkwardness and insecurities ride on my back as visible as a white cloak. It fades quickly, but quick torment is still torment.

I saw Persephone standing in polite misery next to her husband and a bright glowing figure- here I looked away, and quickly at that. I didn't want to meet the "guest of honor"; in fact, I didn't even want to look at him, or think his name. For a reason unknown to me, acknowledgemnet of his presence caused chills to stand out on my body. For the first time in my forever life, I understood the mortal sensation of having someone "walk over my grave". The very thought of this unknown one danced all of over my non- existant resting place.

Something hard bounced off the back of my skull. Clutching the sore spot and turning quickly, I caught the dark purple grape just before it could collide with the left lens of my glasses. Nutmeg grinned and waved with guilty mischief dancing in her eyes, the same shade as the grape that had tried an aerial assult on my face. Nutty was at her customary perch near the "punch" bowl, a large, slightly obscene fountain that gurgled and choked on the bloody- hued liquid. I sighed. Hades had been decorating again.

Nutty, true to her carefree nature, was already well on her way to being sloshed. Those jello shooters I had made would be gone in seconds. It was one of her main hobbies, after all. I joined her next to her vantage point, lightly popping her on the back of her head, showing my appreciation for her attentoion. I tempered the blow greatly, figuring it would be in poor taste to knock my friend's head off.

Cruesa and Belit- Sheri were also there; I hadn't seen them for the large gyser of beverage that the fountain was spitting up in the air and catching again in it's mouth. They were arguing; as usual. That explained the smirk on Nutty's equally purple mouth. Watching those two chuck verbal spears at each other was one of the major forms of entertainment in the Underworld. Says a lot right there, doesn't it? The gods in Olympus had as much of a guess as we did on what had set the arguement off. One of them could state that hades' hair seemed a deeper blue than usual today, and the other one would instantly scream at her that it was purple, dammit!! They just seem to thrive on constant conflict. Routinely one would knickname the other some horrible, vile name, "just to get her attention," the culprit would claim.