"The Goddess of the Gift That Keeps Giving" by Glo ´the Bug´ Bowden

The Goddess of the 'Gift that Keeps Giving'

Long, long ago, when the gods still walked the earth, there was a goddess that went unnoticed by man and woman alike. She was the goddess of the gift that forever gives, the stale paperweight, the fruity doorstop - - yes, she was the goddess of fruitcake.

Frutisha, related to Jupiter as his daughter's second cousin's uncle's best friend's nosy neighbor's pet dog's dog food's packager's darling mother's mail man's great-great grandmother's fourth grandchild's tattoo artist's sister's father's best man's pig farmer's magical genie's cowardly pet dragon's favorite cheesepuff company's manager's third oldest daughter's pity friend's third cousin twice removed, was to be cast out of Olympus. The event was a day of great rejoicing for all of the gods for they were quite fed up with Frutisha's obnoxious habit of showing up everywhere she wasn't wanted.

"From this day forward," Jupiter thundered, "You shall never ever show your face here again, or you shall be imprisoned with the Titans. Leave now, Frutisha, and never return."

"I will," cried Frutisha in her high raspy voice, "But I warn you that Christmas will never be the same without me and my buttery delicious cakes full of juicy, plump raisins, chopped, toasted walnuts, and ripe, savory, Kalymata figs bursting with fruity flavor."

To that all the gods' mouths watered, until Juno broke the spell by shouting, "SHE LIES! THERE IS NO ENJOYMENT IN FRUITCAKE!"

"She's right," Apollo grunted, "Even a centaur would retch on fruitcake." There was a murmur of agreement.

"Well I shall be happy to be gone then," ranted Frutisha, "Since none of you long-winded, draft-dodging, egotistical yet ample-waisted bugsplats on the windshield of life appreciate me or my satisfyingly savory perfections of confection."

"Ample wasted!" Venus breathed.

"Draft-dodging?!?!?!?" Mars bristled.

"Who's egotistical?" Narcissis inquired innocently

"That's the last straw, Frutisha," Jupiter boomed, "From this day forward you are cursed to forever walk from place to place among mortals and never find true rest. So let it be written, so let it be done."

And so it was written, and so it still is.