Here it is, damned near the middle of the month, and his sorry butt is nowhere be seen, let alone talking about bringing some heat. What’s up with that? The sky is boiling grey and black, swirling winds, not a sun-spot in the heavens, just slashing rain – though rain is good, but I’m Queen May and I’m throwing a party – damn it, I needs some heat.
Where is that God?
Just wait until he gets home, he’s got some explaining to do. Mother was right, I should have ran off and married Zeus’s nephew. He knew how to worship a Queen.
Vulcan, you just wait ’til I get my hands on you….you are in deep trouble, Mister! Oh, Zeus! What I am going to tell the Kingdom…I’ve got no flowers blooming, the grass is all soggy; my ladies in waiting are wailing and worrying – wondering what to do.
Not now, Rose! Can’t you see I busy! Thunderbolts!
Guards, guards, go! Scour the Realm! Find my beloved Vulcan. He may be hurt; being consumed by his godly fire of virtue. Hurry, hurry! Bring him home to his beloved Queen May. I am nothing without his loving warmth; his heat inherited from his father, Zeus. Our Empire awaits the beauty I bring; the scent of fair days and languid nights.
My darling, Vulcan, ride your chariot of fire to my heart of hearts. There’s still time to make the land beautiful. OK? Really, my love, I’m not angry with you.
You’ve got a week, buster! and then it’s you and me. You hear, me, Vulcan!