I’ve just returned from the sea where a mermaid had dragged me off so she could make love to me in a way that would make the Gods blush. Her magic didn’t work on me because I’ve got my own obsessions, just like everyone else. I need a room with the door shut, or at least a car with the doors locked. The slightest noise spoils the whole pleasure.
Still, down there, in that underwater metropolis which I immediately proclaimed was the lost capital of Atlantis, the houses had no doors and nobody used curtains. Outside, an awful war pitted the Bearded Ones, who longed for freshwater, and the Clean-Shaven Ones, who were obsessed with saltwater. The terrible clash of weapons muffled my mermaid’s little cries, who sadly for her, had feet made of ice.
So I plugged my ears and plunged into my oily dream, just like my ancestor, Ulysses.