"Whichever! Now listen, the situation is graver than you imagine. If Olympus

falls, not only will the gods fade, but everything that is connected to our

legacy will also begin to unravel. The very fabric of your puny little

civilization — "

 

The game played a song and Mr. D progressed to level 254.

 

"Ha!" he shouted. "Take that, you pixelated fiends!"

 

"Um, fabric of civilization," I prompted.

 

"Yes, yes. Your entire society will dissolve. Perhaps not right away, but mark

my words, the chaos of the Titans will mean the end of Western civilization.

Art, law, wine tastings, music, video games, silk shirts, black velvet paintings

— all the things that make life worth living will disappear!"

 

"So why aren't the gods rushing back to help us?" I said. "We should combine

forces at Olympus.

 

Forget Typhon."

 

He snapped his fingers impatiently. "You forgot my Diet Coke."

 

"Gods, you're annoying." I got the attention of a waitress and ordered the

stupid soda. I put it on Bobby Earl's tab.