Mercury was actually feeling pretty damn okay for a change. Like he was resting his feet solidly on the ground instead of flying by the heels for once skin flayed in a thousand directions as he traveled and bones splintered into miniscule ions. Not that it was anything big. That’s what modern communication took. And he was quick and sharp and he could ride that way.
But damn. Did any of these vapid twinks or cam-whoring bitches have a damn thing worth communicating anyway? A single original thought swimming in their heads? Did all their collective heads have even enough synaptic firings between them to light a cigarette? When Mercury become convinced he was overly sullied by the anti-intellectual detritus of his pretty vacant playthings (he could be a bit of a mental hypochondriac that way), their stupidity spattered on his chest and abdomen like their ejaculate, he would retreat in a fit of sulky self-loathing and not speak to anyone for days on end. All his mortal lovers male and female alike did not take this well and began to bicker amongst themselves as to who had driven Mercury away and caused the communication problems. (Because honestly, some of them compared notes on him and he was kind of a dick!) But as his absence persisted they also blamed him for being gone so long without a word.
Then he’d show up again, all would be forgiven, and the vicious cycle would repeat.
Only each time Mercury went into his downward mood swing and disappeared, his fuck buddies were blaming him for more and more stuff and he’d have to hear about it when he returned. First it was communication issues. Then it was disputes amongst themselves or other people. Then it was their personal belongings breaking down. What did any of this have to do with HIM?!? Before long the whole concept had gone memetic and even people he’d never laid eyes on in his life—much less any other part of his body—–were blaming him for every little thing that went wrong in the lives.
Oh what have I stuck my dick in!?! he lamented. These people are on their own. They think I’m in retrograde even when I’m not and they’re using me as an excuse to not own any of their problems. Well I’m not gonna be their bitch. I’m gonna go get drunk with Dionysis and stick a planet up there for everyone to complain at.