Best Greek God Friends

Chapter 1: Average

I, the god Apollo, was upset.

I was betrayed. I was humiliated. I was utterly and fantastically aghast. Never before in my entire immortal life have I, god of everything good and pure, been insulted in the way I was the day Poseidon wore a Hawaiian shirt to school.

For a moment, I was lost for words. Standing outside at seven in the morning, the august heat forgotten, watching as my friend walked--strode--sashayed--down the street in his neon top, as if the entirety of Southern Florida had condensed itself into one hideous atrocity.

As anyone would when faced with a terror such as this, I said the first thing that came to mind. "What in the left chair leg of Zeus's throne are you wearing."

Poseidon glanced down at his blindingly rainbow shirt, baffled. "You don't like it? It fits my vibe." ~vibe~

"I think I'd be better off looking directly at the sun."

"You just don't have any taste."

"I can feel my eyes melting."

"Rude."

"You couldn't go for a nice cyan?" I pleaded. "I'd even settle for sunset orange. Or yellow. Yellow is better than that monstrosity."

"If you don't shut up, it'll be Hawaiian shirts for the rest of the week."

Under such threats to my wellbeing, I had no choice but to shut up.

Now, you may be wondering why two ancient pantheon gods were walking down the average street of your average suburbs towards a fairly average high school. Well, let me give you a brief overview.

Zeus fucked up.

Right, now you're all caught up.

Poseidon and I joined the few stragglers hurrying through the doors, a fashionable five minutes late to our first, and about five thousand years overdue, day of mortal high school--only to find the carpool doors locked. Which--we knew from our one minute preparation powerpoint--meant we had to go around front and face the horrors of the Front Office.

The Front Office was as average as averagely possible. An extremely average desk sat in front of an averagely blue wall. A fake potted plant stood sadly in each corner of the room, their identically average leaves a deep artificial green. Then, in the tiniest of corners were two little chairs that looked like they were the perfect size for a three-year-old.

Either this was a statement to the monotonous and rigidly structured school system, or no one in charge of building this establishment had any creativity--most likely due to the monotonous and rigidly structured school system.

The woman behind the average desk looked more ancient than we were, which was somehow both concerning and impressive. "ID's."

Poseidon and I exchanged a glance. IDs were not something we had learned about in our one-minute preparation powerpoint.

Poseidon nudged me with his bony elbow, his voice overflowing with confidence. "Don't worry, I got this."

My heart sank as he stepped up to the desk, flashing the woman a smile that seemed all the more blinding when compared to his tan skin tone.

It was official: doom was upon us all.

"Heyyyyy...so um, I'm gonna let you in on a little secret....we don't have this so-called 'ID.'"

Oh, wonderful. I started praying to Hades. If you could just kill me now, that'd be great.

The woman looked unimpressed with his irresistible charms. "Look kid, I don't have time for this. Either give me your ID or leave."