O l i v e r B e n j a m i n
home, people watching his saga were appalled by his indulgent antics
and feared the worst. There was certainly no way that the gods would
find this enlightened behavior, even if the Romans did.
Actually, the Romans no longer gave a hoot about enlightened
behavior. The empire was suffering as much defeat and loss as usual,
but those in the governmental body didn’t care, most likely because
their own governmental bodies were so well attended to. Bob’s
parties were exciting and new, and managed to take everyone’s
minds off the problems that were surmounting their once-great
empire, like, for instance, its impending annihilation.
Bob became famous not only for his planning, but also for his
participation. No one could party as hard as Bob, nor for so long. The
elites regaled his feats of indulgence at dinner tables, business
meetings and at the baths, bestowing upon him a sort of legendary
status that earned him the title,
The Young Bacchus
.
Trying to live up to that title, striving to outdo himself, Bob
eventually planned a week-long orgy. But after the third day of the
event, he was the only one standing.
Determined to keep the fire burning, however, a drunken Bob
ventured out into the city to find some new blood for the party, but
the citizens of Rome were fed up with the government and wanted no
part of it. So he continued wandering out into the countryside that
surrounded the city.
Knocking on the doors of houses and saloons, Bob found that
many of the country folk felt honored to be invited to a legendary
Roman orgy. He was a veritable Pied Pimper
,
gathering an army of
rogues and harlots to help flesh out his epic bacchanalial.
Before heading back to the city, Bob stopped at one last house in
the village. At the door, he was greeted by a withered old man. Bob
had never seen anyone so old in Rome before, as most people died of
disease or malnutrition before fifty, and this man looked like he
might be three times that age. Bob was just about to say, “Sorry,
wrong hut,” when the old man smiled such a beatific smile that it
fairly stopped Bob in his tracks.
“May I help you, young fellow?” he said.
“Well actually I was going to invite you to an orgy,” said Bob, “but
I guess you wouldn’t be interested.”
The old man laughed softly. “Ah,” he said, “I too once thought
that was the way to happiness. Fare thee well, youngster.”
“What are you saying? It isn’t?” Bob asked.
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