the olive or my big gay ridiculous wishes
once upon a time, long, long ago on the greek isle of thera a peasant made his way home after a long day’s work. he was tired of his hard life and lack of help from the gods. he prayed daily and made his offerings, but he could only mutter to himself of their fickle nature. just as the complaint left his mouth, zeus appeared before him. throwing himself on the ground he sobbed that he had meant no harm and he would gladly pray and make offerings the rest of his life if only zeus would spare him.
“chill baby, i have come to answer your prayers,” said the father of the gods. “you shall have three wishes and may ask for whatever you desire,” and with that zeus vanished as quickly as he had appeared.
the peasant raced home to share the news with his beloved. it was an important decision and he knew that it was best that they decide together.
after he told of his good fortune his beloved said to him, “we must not use these wishes foolishly. let us sleep and think well tonight and make our wishes tomorrow so we may be certain that what we wish is what we most want.”
they hardly needed to discuss anything as they settled upon what they wanted almost immediately: a villa with baths for entertaining, servants to treat them well and riches beyond those of a king. the exploring of their dreams, however, kept them talking and they burned oil late into the night.
“and still we have not eaten,” said the peasant, his empty stomach grumbling. so his beloved brought out the bread and wine saying, “one last poor man’s meal before our life of luxury,” and they began to eat.
“starved i am, and only bread and wine again, by tomorrow we shall have a true feast i know, but i do wish we had at least some olives to liven this late supper.” as soon as the peasant uttered these words the wish was heard in heaven and at once, a tumult of olives rumbled through the door to lie at their feet.
“foolish man! how could you have wasted your wish on olives?” said his beloved. “we talked of the villa with the baths, the servants to take care of us and riches beyond belief! did i mention olives and not remember it? was there a debate whether we should live wealthy as kings or have olives for dinner that i missed?”
“i made a mistake and you must calm down, ‘chill baby’ as the gods say. we still have two wishes left,” said the peasant “and i will be more careful so that our dreams will be fulfilled.” ‘what a pain in the ass this man can be,’ he thought, ‘though by eros, i do love him dearly.’
“you made a mistake? that’s right you made a mistake! don’t make another or we’ll have nothing to show for our good fortune except some olives! olives?!” he loved his friend, but how stupid could one really be?
the tired and hungry peasant, after a hard day’s work and coming home with such wonderful news, used all the strength he had left to remind himself to keep those thoughts that could so easily and terribly burst forth as foul wishes upon his love buried deep within him and far from his tongue.
“now we may not be able to have the servants we were just talking about! you know that hyacinthus is so well blessed, almost as if by pan himself, i should dearly like to ride him, but now it seems all i will have are some olives with my supper because of your carelessness. ah…to be impaled upon that boy…”
“you pluck and pluck this note of my mistake like a poor musician upon a lyre! while you? you want to be impaled upon hyacinthus! you speak as if you prefer him over me! you’ll be impaled upon no one if i stop you up properly myself! ah…if these olives impaled you, i think you’d not complain any longer, oh! how i wish it were so!” and again as soon as it was said the heavens heard and delivered the wish. the largest of the olives disappeared under the tunic of his beloved and stopped him up so that none could enter, and nothing be expelled either.
“oh by zeus! again? this mouth never stops itself! i am truly a fool as you say! forgive me! i deserve your sharp words and beg your forgiveness!”
“well, this really is painful,” his beloved said, “but i can’t complain, some poor folk have it much worse than i, and i should never be so biting with my tongue again.”
‘he can’t complain? never so biting with his tongue again?’ thought the peasant, ‘was this such a mistake after all?’ he still had one wish left: the villa with the baths? the servants? his love was certainly right about hyacinthus.
‘but,’ he thought, ‘to have that beautiful ass closed off to me forever? i’ll take the bitching and work like an ass so long as i can plow and seed the furred hills of that sweet as honey ass again.’ so his last wish was that his love would return to his former state, bitchy, but with a hungry ass that hugged and milked his cock and brought him to the gates of olympus it so filled him with pleasure, and as with the other two wishes as soon as it was uttered his wish was granted.
the peasant and his love never lived in a villa or entertained at palatial baths, nor did they have riches beyond compare or even the servants to do their bidding. they did, however, ride the god-like tool that hyacinthus was blessed with and lived happily (for the most part) ever after.
adapted from: “the ridiculous wishes” charles perrault, old-time stories told by master charles perrault, translated by a.e.johnson (new york: dodd mead and co., 1921). http://www.pitt.edu/~dash/type0750a.html#perrault accessed on may 2 2006.
“chill baby, i have come to answer your prayers,” said the father of the gods. “you shall have three wishes and may ask for whatever you desire,” and with that zeus vanished as quickly as he had appeared.
the peasant raced home to share the news with his beloved. it was an important decision and he knew that it was best that they decide together.
after he told of his good fortune his beloved said to him, “we must not use these wishes foolishly. let us sleep and think well tonight and make our wishes tomorrow so we may be certain that what we wish is what we most want.”
they hardly needed to discuss anything as they settled upon what they wanted almost immediately: a villa with baths for entertaining, servants to treat them well and riches beyond those of a king. the exploring of their dreams, however, kept them talking and they burned oil late into the night.
“and still we have not eaten,” said the peasant, his empty stomach grumbling. so his beloved brought out the bread and wine saying, “one last poor man’s meal before our life of luxury,” and they began to eat.
“starved i am, and only bread and wine again, by tomorrow we shall have a true feast i know, but i do wish we had at least some olives to liven this late supper.” as soon as the peasant uttered these words the wish was heard in heaven and at once, a tumult of olives rumbled through the door to lie at their feet.
“foolish man! how could you have wasted your wish on olives?” said his beloved. “we talked of the villa with the baths, the servants to take care of us and riches beyond belief! did i mention olives and not remember it? was there a debate whether we should live wealthy as kings or have olives for dinner that i missed?”
“i made a mistake and you must calm down, ‘chill baby’ as the gods say. we still have two wishes left,” said the peasant “and i will be more careful so that our dreams will be fulfilled.” ‘what a pain in the ass this man can be,’ he thought, ‘though by eros, i do love him dearly.’
“you made a mistake? that’s right you made a mistake! don’t make another or we’ll have nothing to show for our good fortune except some olives! olives?!” he loved his friend, but how stupid could one really be?
the tired and hungry peasant, after a hard day’s work and coming home with such wonderful news, used all the strength he had left to remind himself to keep those thoughts that could so easily and terribly burst forth as foul wishes upon his love buried deep within him and far from his tongue.
“now we may not be able to have the servants we were just talking about! you know that hyacinthus is so well blessed, almost as if by pan himself, i should dearly like to ride him, but now it seems all i will have are some olives with my supper because of your carelessness. ah…to be impaled upon that boy…”
“you pluck and pluck this note of my mistake like a poor musician upon a lyre! while you? you want to be impaled upon hyacinthus! you speak as if you prefer him over me! you’ll be impaled upon no one if i stop you up properly myself! ah…if these olives impaled you, i think you’d not complain any longer, oh! how i wish it were so!” and again as soon as it was said the heavens heard and delivered the wish. the largest of the olives disappeared under the tunic of his beloved and stopped him up so that none could enter, and nothing be expelled either.
“oh by zeus! again? this mouth never stops itself! i am truly a fool as you say! forgive me! i deserve your sharp words and beg your forgiveness!”
“well, this really is painful,” his beloved said, “but i can’t complain, some poor folk have it much worse than i, and i should never be so biting with my tongue again.”
‘he can’t complain? never so biting with his tongue again?’ thought the peasant, ‘was this such a mistake after all?’ he still had one wish left: the villa with the baths? the servants? his love was certainly right about hyacinthus.
‘but,’ he thought, ‘to have that beautiful ass closed off to me forever? i’ll take the bitching and work like an ass so long as i can plow and seed the furred hills of that sweet as honey ass again.’ so his last wish was that his love would return to his former state, bitchy, but with a hungry ass that hugged and milked his cock and brought him to the gates of olympus it so filled him with pleasure, and as with the other two wishes as soon as it was uttered his wish was granted.
the peasant and his love never lived in a villa or entertained at palatial baths, nor did they have riches beyond compare or even the servants to do their bidding. they did, however, ride the god-like tool that hyacinthus was blessed with and lived happily (for the most part) ever after.
adapted from: “the ridiculous wishes” charles perrault, old-time stories told by master charles perrault, translated by a.e.johnson (new york: dodd mead and co., 1921). http://www.pitt.edu/~dash/type0750a.html#perrault accessed on may 2 2006.
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