OD 2.17.2004 [11:43 p.m.]

another one of jess's:

The Pipes of Pan

by Jessica W.

Pan lost his penis, once, and he was very, very put down by the entire situation.

The morning after a wild night with an amply curved village-wife, who was, understandably, lured into the woods by the promise of his long hard wooden pipe, Pan woke up and stretched. He felt empty, as if he was missing something. Aloud, he said: �Hmm, I feel quite empty, there is a hollow ache inside. Perhaps it is life. Waking always reminds poets how quick life is and how fleeting. I may be immortal, but I am certainly a poet.� That said, Pan drummed his hooves against the earth, but still felt - somewhere somewhat lower then usual for a gut feeling - that he was not quite whole.

Now, Pan knew of one sure-fire way to fix that feeling, so off he went to find a willing (or, I regret to report, not) woman. He soon did, coming across a nymph of most delectable proportions and white skin bathing in a clear, amorous brook.

�Hello, nymph,� Pan said, with his lustiest and most attractive grin. Pan has animal magnetism in aces.

The nymph giggled.

Not long after, there was a sharp feminine gasp behind some river-reeds, followed by a low, masculine moan. The moan quickly escalated into a shout. There was nothing strange about that, except, usually, Pan did not come leaping out of the river-reeds, an expression so exaggeratedly anguished stamped on his features that a mask-maker saw and made into the standard contortions for all masks of tragedy, grabbing his crotch. The nymph poked her comely head out of the reeds, with her eyes at their widest.

�Great God Pan,� she said.

He groaned, peeked through his fingers at his crotch, and groaned again, hiding it.

�All men have this problem or so I�ve heard from the village-women. Come back, we�ll try again.�

�I am not a man,� Pan thundered. �I do not have that problem. I -- it -- � He trailed away, then said, forlornly. �It�s gone.�

His hands dropped away and, very sadly, it is true.

It was gone.

�Now instead of Great God Pan they'll have to call me only God Pan.�

�I didn�t notice,� the nymph said. Nymphs are not renowned for their sparkling personalities. It�s more their shapely bodies.

�You didn�t notice?� Pan said.

�It always looks like that, doesn�t it?� the nymph said, puzzled.

It is said that Pan invented wine then, so as to forget his problem. He gave it, soon afterwards, to a younger cousin named Dionysus, and Dionysus bequeathed into the Bacchus, until Pan�s involvement was only a vague memory. But there is no doubt that Pan consumed vast amounts of very strong wine after he saw the nymph.

Through a miserable, drunken haze a memory slowly surfaced.

It was a memory of the amply curved village-wife he had lured into the forest with the blowing of his pipe (he groaned, in agony) the night before. He didn�t want this memory, but it came anyway. He remembered her ripe buttocks, her overflowing breasts, her eyes as she stood over him and muttered fell enchantments, her wide hips and perky dark nipples...

Then he roared: . �That bitch�s fell enchantments caused my penis to fall off!� scaring two birds perched on a nearby laurel into flight. Pan sat down again, hard. He was a bit unsteady on his hooves, what with inventing wine and imbibing in so much of it, to test that the product was good. Pan then furrowed his brow in careful concentration. He reached down to adjust his balls, before he remembered there was nothing there to adjust, nothing there to scratch, nothing there to use...

�It wasn�t there when I woke up. She must have taken it. Why would she do such a thing?�

Pan suddenly drew a deep breath and sprang to his hooves again. It was all clear.

�To pleasure herself eternally! Well I know what lousy lovers so many mere men are! With the penis of a god she could - why, all day - and night, no rest - she could! Why, it would play her while she was - and - ! But why wouldn�t she invite me? Why can I not feel the fun my penis is having now? Oh, penis, I thought we had a connection.�

Pan trailed away sadly, gazing into his wine-cup.

Then he straightened his shoulders and shook off his drunkenness.

He would find her. He would find her tonight.

Pan ripped through the woods and before him animals and men fled in a panic. In his hands, he clutched his music-pipes, and every now and then stopped, to raise them to his shapely lips, and blow a war-call. Finally, as dusk dawned, he broke through the woods, and looked down on the small farmstead that he had lured the village-wife from. Full of black looks and ominous silences, Pan ran towards the door, and broke it down with one mighty butt of his head.

He stepped through the splinters, and looked around. There was the witch. He saw his penis nowhere, but that didn�t stop him. He grabbed her by her throat and said, lowly, �Where is it?� She didn�t answer, pointing to his rather constricting hold on his throat, so he dropped her. He eyed her hips. �It isn�t all in - ?�

�No!�

�Oh,� he said. �Then where is it?�

�I - I was going to toss it into the flames.�

�GIVE ME ONE REASON WHY I SHOULD NOT KILL YOU, FOUL MORTAL TEMPTRESS!�

�I'm going to be the mother of your son!�

�But you are not yet the mother of my son. GIVE ME ANOTHER REASON.� Pan looked about anxiously, which somewhat dampened the threatening image he was trying to exude. His voice was suddenly higher. �You didn�t throw it into the fire yet, did you?�

�Not yet,� the witch said, very quietly. �Please, I only did it because - because - � She burst into tears. Pan thought, disgustedly, by Jove, not the waterworks. I�m the one who�s had his prized (and prize-winning) possession stolen from him, treated who knows how badly wherever it is....

�Yes, yes,� Pan said, impatiently. �But return my penis before you tell me your story.�

�Will you still listen to me?�

�Of course.�

�And we won�t make love immediately?�

Pan huffed. �It�s the least you could do, but I swear I will not make love to you immediately after my penis is returned.� His eyes burned again and the witch felt panic leap in her breast. �I will want to make sure it�s still okay, after all.�

�Then - � The witch�s head dropped. �I would, if I could, o Great God Pan, but I don�t know the charm to reattach it. The air said to me, Gouge out the eye, and it will trouble you no more. I was thinking about the trouble having a baby would cause me, you see. Then the air gave me a charm and I murmured it, and off it dropped.�

�The air?� Pan said. He stroked his goatee. �Is that all you can remember about it?�

�Well, it was a very amorous breeze...�

�ZEUS!� Pan roared.

A majestic breeze blew smugly through the door, carrying with it the voice of the King of Gods.

�Now,� said Zeus, Lord of the Heavens, �what were you saying to the animals of the woods? Do you remember, little,� to Pan�s ear Zeus lingered unnecessarily upon the word, �panicked Pan?�

Pan frowned. �Zeus! Give this woman the charm to re-attach my penis!�

�No memories,� the breeze murmured, �are rising?�

�NOTHING IS RISING NOW,� Pan mourned.

�The words �greater then Zeus� manhood is mine� do not seem familiar?�

Pan opened his mouth to retort - then closed it. He chuckled, weakly. �Zeus, you have had many more succulent women then I could ever have, and many more tender boys, too. Does size really matter? Look, you do not even need a size. You have impregnated many a wench as a shower of gold.�

�Do you like the size �nothing�?� the breeze said. �Because you can have it for a long time, if I so deem it.�

�Please, Zeus,� Pan said, urgently. �Give the woman the charm for the return of my penis! There is a nymph who awaits me in the river-reeds. I�ll do anything.�

�Anything?�

�Anything,� Pan said firmly.

�Then,� said Zeus, �I will give the woman the charm if you can give me something that will please me greatly, which can make friends of enemies when the day is done or make a man slay his brother over an ill-spoken word. Give me something that will untense Hera, and you will have the charm that will reattach your Penis.�

Pan thought about it. The breeze blew all around the room, and if a breeze invent smirking - why, that breeze did so. Pan poured himself some wine, from an amphorae slung over his shoulder, and thought about it some more.

Then he said, �Want a drink?�

The End