Hera stood above me, staring down at the great big baby. Her best girlfriend of the moment, Athena, the goddess of wisdom, stood right beside her.

Oh, was I glad I was invisible. So, so glad! Hera looked about as friendly as a viper. Athena may be goddess of wisdom. But she’s also goddess of war. She was dressed, as always, in a full suit of armor, complete with helmet. She’s not exactly a goddess you’d want to meet on a lonely road at night.

Hera bent down and picked up the great big baby. “He’s heavy!” she said. She eyed him closely. “He looks like someone I know.”

“Oh, all babies look alike,” said Athena.

Hera frowned. “No, he definitely reminds me of someone. But who?”

Athena whisked the big baby from Hera’s arms. “Let’s take him to that city over there and find him a nursemaid before he starts squalling.”

The baby’s real nursemaid was hiding behind an olive tree, watching. Clearly she wasn’t willing to tangle with these two powerful immortals. Who could blame her?

The goddesses carried the big baby toward Thebes. I didn’t trust Hera one bit. So, with a last longing look at Palace Stadium, I took off after them. They went straight to the royal palace. They brushed past the servants and took the baby right to Princess Alcmene.

“We found this big baby by the side of the road,” Athena said. “Take care of him, will you? He may amount to something one day.”

The princess could barely hide her joy as she took back her baby.

“I’ve got it!” Hera exclaimed suddenly. “He looks just like my husband! Why, if this is Zeus’s baby, I’ll—”

Athena grabbed Hera’s elbow. “Let’s go home and see if anyone is sacrificing any bulls to us tonight.”

Hera took one last look at the baby. “He is Zeus’s son,” she hissed. “I can tell!”

Hera liked fragrant bull-sacrifice smoke as much as any goddess, so she let Athena yank her away. But Hera looked back. I could tell from her face that she was planning something special for that baby. And it wasn’t any birthday party, either.

The big baby was in danger. I decided to stick around. Because by this time, I, Uncle Hades, had grown fond of the kid. Okay, he was Zeus’s son. But he was a mere mortal. T-BAMZ would never pay any attention to him, that was for sure. My queen, Persephone, lived down in the Underworld with me for only three months a year. We’d decided that our odd living arrangements would make it hard to raise a family, so we had no children of our own. This big baby was my blood relative. He was as close as I was likely to get to having a son.

I also knew that when it came to revenge, no one held a candle to Hera.

So I stayed in the nursery that night, watching invisibly over Princess Alcmene and the big baby. I looked out the nursery window. I saw the Palace Stadium torchlights blink out. I wondered who’d won the big match. I hoped Eagle-Eye had pinned Half ’n’ Half’s flank to the mat.

“Close your eyes, little baby,” sang Princess Alcmene softly. “I mean, close your eyes, big baby.”

“Goo-ga!” burbled the big baby as Princess Alcmene tiptoed from the room. He wasn’t one bit sleepy.

I listened to the big baby gooing and gaaing. I also listened to my stomach growling. A single slice of leftover pizza isn’t exactly a dinner fit for a god. I was growing weak from hunger! Around midnight, I decided to make a quick dash into Thebes to get a bite. I knew the perfect spot—a fast-service all-night Greek diner. Hey, a god’s got to eat! I astro-traveled to the diner and ordered a shish kebab.

“Would you like some fries with that?” the counter mortal asked.

“Definitely,” I told him. “Just make it fast, will you?”

My order came in no time. I sprinkled on the Ambro-Salt, chugged down one of my Necta-Colas, and astro-traveled straight back to the palace. ZIP! I landed on the steps, and my godly ears were filled with the sound of a horrible, ichor-freezing scream. (Ichor—it’s what we gods have instead of blood.)

I raced to the nursery, not bothering with my helmet. The nursemaid stood in the doorway, shrieking. I dodged past her and into the room. I saw why she was screaming.

Two big blue serpents had managed to slither into the cradle. They had wound themselves around the big baby’s neck. They were trying to choke the life out of him!

The princess ran into the nursery. She began screaming even louder than the nursemaid.

The palace guards rushed in behind her, their torches blazing. They drew their swords.

But at the cradle, they stopped.

They were too late.

The baby gripped the throat of one big blue serpent in his left hand. In his right, he gripped the throat of the other. He was waving the snakes around like playthings.

“Goo-goo ga-ga!” he cooed. Then: BANG! He knocked the snakes together. When their heads met, the serpents sank their venomous fangs into each other’s necks. The baby tossed them to the floor, stone dead.

“Nice work, kid!” I said.

Princess Alcmene turned. “Hades?” she said, clearly startled. “What are you doing here?”

“I, uh, had a little astro-traveling mix-up,” I said, and I told her how I’d ended up in her palace. And how I’d heard Hera’s threat. “I thought I’d stick around and make sure no harm came to your baby.”

“Thank you, Hades,” said Princess Alcmene. “When I was married to Zeus, you always were my favorite brother-in-law.”

“Not that the kid needed any help,” I added. “He’s a born wrestler. Not even a day old yet and he’s already won his first match.”

Princess Alcmene looked very proud. Then she frowned. “We’ve never had a snake problem in the palace,” she said. “I wonder if I should call an exterminator.”

“Don’t bother,” I told her. “Hera sent those serpents. You know how she feels about Zeus’s sons by his former wives.”

Princess Alcmene sighed. “My baby will be in constant danger. Will you watch over him, Hades?”

“I . . . uh . . . ” I looked from her to the big baby. He was gooing and gaaing up a storm. I hadn’t noticed before—he had dimples. Adorable! What is it about babies that makes them so hard to resist?

“You are his uncle, after all,” added the princess.

“All right,” I said. “I’ll try to protect him from Hera. But I can’t guarantee that I’ll be successful. Hera is one tough baklava.” I thought for a moment. “Have you given the baby a name?”

“No,” said Alcmene. “I can’t decide between Chickapeckeus and Duckawaddleus.”

“Heavy-duty names, Alcmene,” I said. “You know, I think Hera might let up on your baby if you named him after her.”

“You’re joking, right?” said the princess.

“No joke,” I said. “It’s the sort of thing we gods and goddesses take very seriously. What about calling him Heracles? It means ‘for the glory of Hera.’”

Princess Alcmene groaned. “I can’t, Hades,” she said. “I just can’t. Every time I say his name, I’ll think of that horrible goddess.”

“Shhhh!” I cautioned her. “She might have one of her spies listening.” I thought for a moment. “I know. You can call him by the Roman version of the name—Hercules.”

“Hercules.” The princess smiled. “That has a nice ring to it. All right, Hades. Hercules it is.”

I smiled, too. I’d just named my first baby!