“Whoa, horses!” Zeus yelled. He never could remember the names of his steeds. He pulled on the reins, leaving long skid marks on the riverbank.

Zeus jumped out of his chariot and hurried over to us. “Have you seen Hera?”

Hera is Zeus’s wife. Queen of the gods. She knew Zeus was a shameless flirt when she married him. But she thought he’d change his ways after the wedding. Ha! Zeus is still a runaround. It makes Hera jealous. Now the two of them fight and bicker all the time.

“We haven’t seen Hera,” Epi told Zeus.

“She’s out to get me.” Zeus looked around nervously. “I told her that Metis and I are just friends now. But do you think Hera believes me? Not a chance. She is so suspicious!” He glanced over his shoulder. “If you see her coming, give me a heads-up, will you, Hades?”

“Relax, Zeus,” I said. No way was I getting involved in one of his spats with Hera!

Now Zeus tuned in on the clay figures. “What are those?” he asked, pointing to the ones Prometheus had made.

“Mortals,” said Prometheus. “You asked us to make new mortals to live on earth. Remember, Zeus?”

Zeus kept staring at the little mortals. “Why, they look just like you,” he said. “Only shorter and squattier.”

Prometheus smiled. “Thank you.”

“It’s not a compliment!” Zeus yelled.

The mortals ran and hid behind Prometheus. Zeus was scaring them.

“Don’t make any more of them,” said Zeus.

“Why not?” said Prometheus.

“Those pipsqueaks aren’t what I have in mind for populating the earth,” said Zeus. “I’ll have my son, Hephaestus, make mortals. That way I can be sure they look right.”

“These mortals look fine, Zeus,” said Prometheus.

Zeus wrinkled his nose. “Not really,” he said.

“What should mortals look like?” Prometheus asked.

“They should be handsome,” said Zeus. “They should look like me.”

Big surprise! The old myth-o-maniac is also an ego-maniac. I’d pity any mortals modeled on him. They’d be potbellied and balding. Zeus is always tearing around the universe. Always in a rush. He never remembers to drink his daily glass of nectar. Or snack on an ambrosia bar. So he hasn’t stayed young and good-looking like the rest of us gods.

“Oh, come on, Zeus,” said Prometheus. “I fought on your side in the big battle between the Titans and the gods, didn’t I?”

“Of course you did,” said Zeus. “But only because you looked into the future and saw that my side was going to win.”

“True,” said Prometheus. “But you couldn’t have won without me.”

“So?” said Zeus.

“So I want to make some more mortals like this one,” said Prometheus.

“Oh, all right,” said Zeus. “But not too many!”

“I won’t make too many,” Prometheus said. “I promise.”

Zeus nodded. He knew that Prometheus was a Titan who kept his word.

“Hey, I found one!” Epi said. He held up a slip of parchment from the pot. “This gift will keep the mortals warm.”

“What is it?” said Prometheus eagerly.

“The gift of fire!” said Epi.

“Oh, no you don’t,” snapped Zeus. He snatched the parchment out of Epi’s hand. “How did this get into the pot? It’s a mistake. Fire is for the gods. Only for the gods.” He crumpled up the parchment and stuck it into his pocket.

“But these mortals are so helpless!” said Prometheus. “They need some way to keep warm. Earth gets cold at night.”

“Fire stays up on Mount Olympus!” roared Zeus. “End of discussion!”

“All right,” said Epi. “No fire for these mortals.” He pulled another slip from the pot. “How about this?” he said. “The gift of making up games.”

“Games,” said Zeus. “Fine.”

Epi waved his hand over the little mortals. “I give you the gift of making up games!” he said. And then he added, “Especially contact sports!”

Immediately the two little mortals faced off, joined hands and started thumb wrestling.

Hoofbeats sounded again.

“Ye gods!” Zeus exclaimed. “Here she comes!”

Hera’s chariot was bearing down on us. The Ruler of the Universe ran and jumped back into his own chariot.

“Giddyup!” he cried to his steeds. Then he thundered off, with Hera hot on his wheels.

Prometheus frowned. He turned to Epi. “I just had a little future flash,” he said. “It wasn’t that clear. Something about Zeus giving you a gift.”

“What was it?” asked Epi eagerly.

“I didn’t see,” said Prometheus. “But you know how sneaky Zeus is. Promise me you won’t ever accept a gift from him.”

“All right,” said Epi. “I promise.”

“Good.” Prometheus turned back to his little mortals. He patted each one gently on the head. “All the animals have names,” he said thoughtfully. “The old mortals are called ‘Old Ones.’ These mortals need a name of their own. I think I’ll call them . . . guys.”