I sit back in the Celestial Cafe and stare at Hermes, who holds a piping hot, bubbly, Mediterranean-inspired pizza loaded with olives, artichokes, mushrooms, feta, tomatoes, and so much goodness that everyone in the restaurant suddenly loses their appetite for their entrees and hankers for a slice.
"Hermes," I say with as much tact as I can. "That smells like heaven--literally, I'm sure. But you do realize that we have pizza on our menu."
"Not pizza like this," he declares. "Even my godly powers can't keep pizza hot on the trip from Earth to Olympus. Domino's has nothing on me, but the pizza gets cold."
"You have ovens and divine fire," I point out.
Hermes shakes his head, and shuffles his sandaled feet. "How little you understand gods. Zeus fried the pizza to a crisp with his lightning--"
I wince. "You have a point."
"WHAT is that incredible creation?"
