The Mysterious Island of Fruits

I, Odysseus, son of Laertes, was sailing heartily towards my beloved homeland of Ithaca with my companions, the Akaihians when we encountered a mysterious vessel. The modest little boat carried two men, one small lad no older than seventeen with squinty eyes and brown hair, and another tall, spare, older fellow with wild silvery-white hair and enormous, vacant eyes.

"Ahoy!" my comrade Eurylochus bellowed as our great ship approached theirs. "Be you friend or foe of Odysseus, valiant king of hilly Ithaca? Our king waits for your answer."

"Friends we are!" called the tall one with great humility in his strained voice. "I am Emmettus Brownus of Hill Valley, and my friend here is Martinus the Fly."

"Tell us, Emmettus Brownus of Hill Valley," I enquired curiously, "How is it that you and Martinus have come to be so far out here in the sea?"

"My lord, that is one secret reserved only for my companion and I. We cannot tell you how we came to here, in this exact place, at this moment of time, without compromising our means to return to our true home."

"I see. Anyway, what are you doing out here?" I demanded. I truly wished to know their purpose. Were they gods in disguise? Had mighty Zeus seen fit to take human form and test us here, out on the open waters of the great sea of Poseidon?

"I can tell you one thing, and only one," Emmettus interjected. "My friend and I have indeed come from a great distance, as I am sure you have. We only wish to seek out the Great Blacksmith, Hephaestus, and beseech him to build us a vehicle of the gods, fit to return us to our true place of origin. That is our mission."

I let forth a great sigh of disappointment, leaning lazily upon the side of my ship. "We cannot help you, men. The Akaihians and I are cursed by Poseidon, lord of the whirlpool and wave. You would do better to continue your search. Be advised that it would not be wise for you gentlemen to throw in your lot with us."

Humble Emmettus let forth a great sigh. "Sirs, Martinus and I are truly desperate! We only wish to return home, to our wives! We miss them terribly! Poor Martinus was betrothed to a lovely young bride, Jenniferus Parkus. This very day would have been their first anniversary. As for myself, I am married to a brown-haired damsel, Claranus Claytonias, and together, we have two bright young sons, Jules and Verneus. It doesn't matter how dangerous you say it is—we would do anything for a chance to return home!"

After much deliberation, it was later decided that these two very odd men would join us on our journey. We set a course for the mythic isle where rested the great volcano of Hephaestus, the blacksmith god. But, as luck would have it, we were blown off course during a violent storm, and became stranded on a mysterious new island.

This island in particular was like none we had ever witnessed before. The only vegetation was a forest of withered, dilapidated-looking trees with lovely, tempting fruits hanging from their thin branches. Sand and dirt covered the rest of the landscape. Because of our previous experience with the lotus eaters, and also because the very concept of this fruit being so ripe and healthy-looking on such unhealthy trees seemed so ludicrous and oxymoronic to us that it could only be concluded that this was an island of the gods, I gave them all explicit instructions not to touch or eat any of the fruit during our stay. I was convinced that our stay on the island would be a short one.

I was wrong. Nearly two weeks had passed, and we had eaten the last of the vittles afforded to us by the lovely goddess, Circe. My men constantly groaned with the sharp pains of starving hunger. I, their leader, heard their cries and looked upon them with great compassion. But there was nothing that I could really do. I felt especially sorry for Emmettus Brownus and Martinus the Fly, but I also knew full well that they had gotten themselves into this mess we were in. It was not their fight with Poseidon, yet they persisted in becoming casualties of this same battle. I greatly admired their bravery and love for their wives, which rivaled my own amorous feelings for my beloved Penelope.

One day, poor Eurylochus succumbed to the cries of his stomach and, against my royal orders, ate some of the fruit of the mysterious tree. I had been sleeping in the heat of the day, and was not stirred until I was awaked by the cries of my friend-enemy.

"Help! Hellllp!!"

One of the men later told me that as Eurylochus bit into the wild fruit, a swarm of insects seemed to flow from it as one unified mass into his mouth and after that, his throat. He would have perished if not for the timely efforts of Martinus the Fly, who grabbed him round the abdomen and began an awkward squeezing motion he later referred to as a "Heiym-Lick."

After Eurylochus' life was saved, Hermes the messenger god appeared before us with a message from mighty Zeus:

"Hear ye, mortals! Hear ye, and listen well! Zeus has heard the cries of Martinus and Emmettus, and he has seen Martinus' selfless bravery. Therefore, he has sent me to take you all to great Hephaestus, where a suitable vehicle may be made to send them back to the fut—um, back to their place of origin."

So it was done. We were whisked away in a flash by Hermes' blinding speed to Hephaestus' royal forge. For an entire day and night, the blacksmith's hammer collided with the metal with a sound like thunder, over and over again. Finally, he was finished. The great vehicle had a slick, smooth, silver coloring, with mysterious red lights and black vents on its back side. Martinus and Emmettus entered the vehicle.

"Well, men, I suppose this is it!" Emmettus said as he boarded the small vessel. "Thank you—for everything!"

"You are welcome, my friends," I replied. "And as for you, Martinus, thank you for showing us the power of the Heiym-Lick."

"Oh, it was nothing!" said Martinus. "I only did what any other man would have done."

And with that, the vehicle roared to life as it exited the great door of the forge. Then, three great blasts of thunder, a brilliant flash of Zeus' blue lightning, and they had all but vanished, leaving two trails of Prometheus' flames in its wake.

Our journey still continued on, though. Hermes returned us to the island. The storm seemed to have finally passed, and so we set off again on the waters of the great Mediterranean…in search of our own wives…and our beloved home of Ithaca.

-The End-