
Yeah, I've stolen his chickens before while he slept off his lunch but you just can't live your life in fear like that. Look at me and the life I lead; I fear few things; I wouldn't be afraid of turning around and taking that chicken right now.







The plan was perfectly wrought: what better way to seduce the object of your desire than to turn yourself into a cow. For such was the way of this woman and such was the will of Zeus whose sexual prowess was only matched by the duplicitousness required to effectuate his zealous loves and ecstatic erotic unions. And when the cow spoke she thought: hey, talking cow! and she was filled with a sense of adventure and rebellion. And when she was installed as the Queen of Crete she knew: this was more than just a talking cow, this was a magical cow. And though Zeus had long since revealed his true form she always looked back fondly at the cow who had first swept her off her feet.








And he played and he played. And after while the other Gods were able to convince the vengeful Hera that she was actually a very caring and empathetic immortal. The fact that she had responded to the impolitic boasts of Gerana the queen of the Pygmies - that she was more beautiful than herself - by turning her into a crane and proclaiming that her bird descendants would forever wage war on the already slighted Pygmy folk was really self-defense. So they were half a body shorter than any other human; so they were a winsome people whose only earthly joys came from turning cartwheels, weaving and filberts; so they already lived in paralyzing fear of prairie dogs and hoot owls; a halfling ought to know their place.



