"My athletes can beat your athletes." Heracles scoffed as he took another bite of his gyro.

"Really now? Sports is a trivial thing to me." Sadiq said, who was also taking a bite of his döner kebap sandwich.

"You're just saying that because your men can't beat my men."

"Pfft, please. If that were the case, you would've fought your way out of my empire hundreds of years sooner. But would you look at that – you didn't! I had to do overtime babysitting for your wussy butt ever since your mom handed you over to me. Ah, those were the days."

"...I'm just talking about sports. Must we always talk about your glorious, dead empire? Face it, you're old news, geezer." the younger Mediterranean grumbled, wiping tzatziki from his chin. Damn sandwich was messy.

"Yes. To remind you of how I used to own your little island of 'athletic champions'."

"Ever heard of Milo of Croton?"

"Yeah. Your mom always bragged about how strong he was. 'I'm telling you, Sadiq! My little Milo can carry a full grown bull on his shoulders as if it were nothing but a bag full of papyrus! He can even tie a band around his head and break it just by straining the veins of his temples!' What a freak."

"You're just jealous that you don't have anyone in your history that can do such amazing feats!"

"Oh, you are so right." Sadiq said in a condescending tone. "I mean, I wish I was put on a diet of 20 pounds of meat, 20 pounds of bread and eight quarts of wine just like he was. Maybe I would be even manlier than I am right now – oh wait! I already am. Without being a pig..."

"It's a diet for the champions!"

"Champion? Sure, he's a champion alright. That explains the unfortunate accident that ended his life."

Heracles almost choked on a tomato slice when Sadiq finished his sentence. "Accident? Mama said he fought to the end with all the bravery and courage of all of Greece!"

"Well, Mama told you wrong. Let's see, one day good ole Milo decided to do something that any man would do on a warm, sunny day – pull a tree from its roots. Why? Because he's retarded. Anyway, it turns out while he was trying to rip it out of the ground, his fingers were jammed and he couldn't unwrap himself. While he was trying to free himself, a pack of hungry wolves came in. And well...I'm sure you can figure out the rest. Like I said, the guy's a dumbass. But I'm sure the wolves were very grateful that he was well-fed and full of flavor."

"Well, uh..." Heracles tried to make a comeback. He wasn't going to lose another argument this week! "That's just one example of our athletes! You can't stereotype them all to be that gluttonous and careless. I can prove it!"

"In that case, I suggest you stock up on 20 of those gyros then. And while you're at it...20 loaves of bread and oh I don't know, seven to eight quarts of wine. After that, we can go out for an evening walk in the forest and you can show me your athletic strength by testing it on a nice, solid pine tree..."