Aphrodite and Ares often sneaked into Hephaestus’s apartment while the blacksmith god was working in the forges. Right there in his own bedroom, they got extremely naughty.
Hephaestus’s heart felt like it was reforging itself. It melted with misery. It got super-heated with anger. Then it cooled and hardened into something stronger and sharper.
“Thanks for the tip,” he told Helios.
“Anything I can do? You want me to give them a nasty sunburn?”
“No, no,” Hephaestus said. “I got this.”
Hephaestus returned to his forges and made a very special net. He created gold filaments as thin as spiderwebs but as strong as bridge cables. He enchanted them so that they would stick to whatever they caught, harden more quickly than cement, and hold their prey motionless.
He hobbled to his bedroom and wove the netting over the four tall bedposts so they hung like an invisible canopy. Then he put a pressure-activated trip wire across the sheets.
He limped into the living room, where Aphrodite was reading the latest steamy romance novel.
“Honey, I’m going to Lemnos!” Hephaestus announced. “I may be there for a few days.”
“Oh?” Aphrodite looked up from her novel. “A few days, you say?”
“Yep. Miss you. Bye!”
Aphrodite grinned. “Okay. Have fun!”
Hephaestus packed his toolbox, saddled the donkey, and headed out. Meanwhile, Ares was watching from a nearby balcony. Once the war god was satisfied that Hephaestus really was leaving for Lemnos, he rushed down to the blacksmith’s apartment, where Aphrodite was waiting.
“Hey, baby,” Ares said. “Miss me?”
They retired to the bedroom, but they didn’t have time to get very naughty. As soon as they stripped down to their undies and jumped into bed, the trap was sprung.
The golden net fell on them and stuck like flypaper. The two gods struggled and shrieked. Seriously, Ares had a higher-pitched scream than Aphrodite. But they were plastered to the bed, unable to move or change form.
Hephaestus, who had doubled back, burst into the bedroom with an ax in his hands.
“Daddy’s home,” he snarled.
He contemplated getting all Kronos on them and turning the bedroom into a horror movie scene, but he decided against it. To Hephaestus’s mind, there was nothing more shocking and embarrassing than leaving the lovers as they were—trapped in the act of cheating, Aphrodite with her makeup smeared and her hair messed up, her limbs flattened awkwardly against the bed like she’d hit a car windshield. Screaming and whimpering next to her, Ares wore nothing but a pair of red socks and his G.I. Joe boxer shorts.
Hephaestus marched into the Olympian throne room, where the gods were assembling for lunch.
“Don’t eat yet,” he told everyone. “I have something to show you, and it’ll probably make you hurl.”
Intrigued, the gods followed him back to the bedroom, where they stared at the new piece of performance art Hephaestus had created.
“You see?” Hephaestus demanded. “This is what I get for trying to be a good husband. The moment I’m gone, these two start with their hanky-panky. My own wife hates me because I’m crippled and ugly, so she sneaks around behind my back with—with this fool. It makes me sick. It makes me want to throw up. Isn’t this the most disgusting thing you’ve ever seen?”
The other gods were silent. Hermes started trembling, trying to keep it together.
Zeus said to himself, I’m not going to laugh. I’m not going to laugh.
Then he caught Demeter’s eye, and it was all over.
“BWA! BWA-HA!” He doubled over, chortling so hard, he thought his ribs would break. All the other gods joined in.
“G.I. Joe boxers!” Apollo screamed. “OH—oh, I can’t even…HAHAHAHAHA!”
“Aphrodite,” Athena giggled. “You look simply lovely.”
The gods couldn’t stop laughing. Soon they were rolling on the floor, wiping tears from their eyes, taking photos with their phones to post on Tumblr.
At first, Hephaestus was furious. He wanted to yell at them to take this seriously. He was in pain. He was humiliated!
Then he took a deep breath and realized: no, Aphrodite and Ares were humiliated. The other gods would be telling this tale for centuries. Every time the two lovers walked into the throne room, the Olympians would smirk and try not to laugh, remembering Aphrodite’s messed-up hair and Ares’s stupid boxers and red socks. Every time people told embarrassing stories at family get-togethers, this would be Embarrassing Story Number One.
After a long time, the gods managed to collect themselves.
“Okay,” Poseidon said, wiping his eyes. “That was hilarious. But you should let them go now, Hephaestus.”
“No,” Hephaestus grumbled. “Why not leave them here on permanent display?”
Zeus cleared his throat.