Sisyphus would have been better off keeping his mouth shut

Revisiting Myths and Legends: The Myth of Sisyphus

As every morning at dawn, Sisyphus reached out to grab his phone from the nightstand and, still a bit groggy, deciphered what was displayed on the home screen. Three missed calls and a voicemail. At that moment, he thought he had underestimated his ex's ability to make his life miserable. Since their breakup, Mérope deserved the gold medal for being a pain in the neck.

- What do you mean, there's no water? Again!... Have you checked the meter in the garden? ...Yes, there's a meter in the garden. Next to the lemon tree... No, the lemon tree... the tree, small, bushy, that gives lemons! Are the numbers moving?

Sisyphus hung up, promising to fix the problem. He owed it to his ex-wife, whom he had "bedded her best friend in the conjugal bed," as his ex-wife had just vividly reminded him. He dressed hastily and rode his bike to Asopus, an old acquaintance from his neighborhood school days who had recently been promoted to river god.

He found him still dressed in his night loincloth, his hair tangled, sitting with vacant eyes on the steps of the porch. His daughter Egine had been missing for several days, and this morning, she still hadn't returned. Sisyphus feigned surprise and inquired about his well-being out of politeness. One didn't need to be a god to sense the vodka on Asopus's foul breath, which led him to think it was his lucky day because he knew where the young girl was... He had seen her in Zeus's arms just yesterday as they left the new rooftop bar by the seaside! Tight-fitting tunic on porcelain legs, she could have cracked even a vase...

- We agree, right? It wasn't me who told you... and climate change or not, -always, I mean forever, water will flow at Mérope's! Clear? Deal?

He made him swear "Cross your heart and hope to die, stick a needle in your eye" and made sure he spat. Sisyphus took his leave of his host, proud of his negotiation, hopped on his bike whistling, and rode back home.

Zeus, in his palace on the hill, got wind of this denunciation because being the king of the gods had a major advantage, that of knowing everything without having to explain to the reader by what magic... This world's avenger had an army of gods whom he commanded with an iron hand, or should I say with thunderbolts. So, he promptly called Thanatos, the god of death, and ordered him to take this cockroach Sisyphus to the Underworld by the shortest route.

It was a loud fluttering sound of wings that aroused Sisyphus's suspicions and made him raise his head quickly. Despite the dazzling sun, he recognized the frail, hooded form of his attacker but, above all, the terrible blade she wielded with a single hand like a threatening lightning bolt ready to fry you. He just had time to throw himself under his bike before the scythe struck with a sharp blow and, fortunately, got caught in the spokes. Death stood up, quite annoyed, the urn in one hand, the scythe and a bike in the other, bewildered by this improbable scenario.

Sisyphus took advantage of the situation to make a run for it, congratulated himself on his cunning mind but realized at that moment that he had a knack for getting into trouble. He was sweating when he rang the doorbell of apartment C15 in building 3B, and as soon as Mérope opened the door, he rushed into the kitchen to get a glass of water. He looked his ex straight in the eyes and announced that it was time to devise the last chance plan.

Zeus, who, as we know, knew everything, grumbled in his beard that he was surrounded by incompetents and that for great evils, great remedies, they should send the god of war to sort out the big oaf. Ares dispatched the chore in one swift blow of the soldering iron and freed Death, who now complained of having a wrist tendonitis.

Two gods for one man, Sisyphus couldn't escape this time and was bluntly presented to the god of the Underworld, Hades. This undisputed master of the underworld had a rather bad reputation, but Sisyphus intended to play his trump card and appeal to his jailer's sensibilities. Their respective wives had practically raised the pigs, well, the children, together, and he would not fail to remind him of that.

- Ah, Master Hades, what a joy to see you again! I couldn't wait... Again, my apologies for this delay, I had to rush home, you see, the little one gave us a chickenpox scare!... Yes, Odysseus the youngest. Six years old already, time flies, right? And your Zagreus? ... Four years! Time flies, as they say in the jargon! Is everyone well? Madame? ...Good, good... as for our little affairs, I was thinking, since Mérope didn't have time to slaughter the sheep and all, and far be it from me to offend the gods, maybe I could make a quick return to the world of the living to set things right with my wife, I mean my ex?

The guardian of the Underworld remained poker-faced for a moment before reluctantly agreeing. It was true that he had always found Mérope rather hot; he could make an exception. He added, however, for form's sake, that it was the first and last time, and he relied on his host to convey his warm condolences to his ex-wife.

Sisyphus, once back in Corinth, deliberately ignored Hades's texts, and when Tathanos, his arm in a sling, came back to fetch him, he categorically refused to accompany him. He had seen, conquered, and would not return! Death kindly explained to him that he had other living beings to reap, and if he didn't cooperate, he would end up like Prometheus. The memory of that story about the vulture feasting on his hero's liver made him go pale, and on the verge of fainting, Sisyphus agreed to leave it to fate. He was then brought before the council of the gods.

- What do you mean, a rock? Pushing a rock?... Up a hill?... 

Sisyphus thought the old bearded men were hiding something from him; there was a twist somewhere. But he didn't really have a choice. So he set to work, bracing himself with hands and feet, pushing the heavy stone uphill. The heat in these tropics made him sweat like a pig on a spit, and his flip-flops, unsuitable for this type of terrain, made the mission perilous. Just as he was about to pass the summit, he lost his balance, and that cursed rock rolled back down to the feet of the gods, whose sneering made him lose his composure.

- Shit! F*** this f***ing rock!

He tried a second time, a third time with the same result, and then understood that the gods had been mocking him!

Can you explain the point of this? Because this is reaching the height of absurdity! Pushing a rock for it to come back down, you don't have to be a rocket scientist to realize that it's useless! ...What did you say? That the question is not whether it's useful but WHO it serves? That I can find meaning in it? Seriously bro, you're delusional... If I have to play with a stone, at least ask me to build something with it! Like a temple, a stadium, anything! Or I had the idea of a sculpture like; lion's body, bird's wings, and I could put a god's face on it?

Sisyphus hailed the king of the gods and, in a last hope of escaping his fate, proposed to him:

- Zeus, how about your face on my lion?