The next god on my list was Hermes, the god of commerce, thieves, travelers, sports, athletes, the messenger oft he gods.

I found him in his tiny flat, which was in an ugly block in a fucked-up neighborhood. But it suited his current appearance. Although his body still looked quiet impressive, his dirty clothes, his scruffy beard and his unwashed hair made him look… well, fucked- up.

When he opened the door of his flat he stared at me for some seconds, then he burped at my face and said: „I don't have time for you right now. Come back later. I have to go to work."
„You have a job?" I raised my eyebrows surprised. „What do you mean? Of course I have a job and I am in a hurry." And with these words he closed the door.

I decided to wait. After all I had only a few questions to ask him. That wouldn't take long. Five minutes later the door opened again and my jaw dropped.
In front of me stood Hermes and he looked like a cheap parody of his former self. He wore something that apparently should be a short toga, a hat that looked like a soup bowl and trainers with wings attached tot hem. They were made of plastic.

There was an awkward silence untill I slightly coughed and said:" I have to ask you some questions." Hermes sighed and said: „Fine. But you have to come with me. I am really late." Hermes locked his door and ran towards the stairs. I took one second tos hake my head and to realize what I just had seen. Was it funny or rather sad? But I wanted to collect my answers as fast as possible, so I turned around and followed him downstairs.

I caught up with him at the bus stop. Obviously Hermes intended to ride the bus. What a brave guy. I wouldn't even dare to go outside in his outfit. „Have you ever got beaten up in this outfit?", I asked for obvious reasons. He looked irritated at me and shook his head. „No. Why are you asking?" I hold my tongue.

The bus came and we got in. In the back oft he bus sat some wanna be badass teenagers and stared at Hermes. I guess I wasn't the only one who was irritated by his looks. I mean, you could never know. Was he stupid? Crazy? A maniac? Did he wear an explosive belt under his toga? Or had he just a really poor fashion sense?
Apparently they couldn't make up their minds and decided to ignore Hermes' unusual appearance. Instead of staring at him, they now showed us a selection of their favourite rap-music. Bitch, yo, motherf***er!
I decided to follow their example and didn't pay any attention at them. It was time to get done with it.

„So, first question: What's your actual name? It's not Hermes, is it?" „No, I call myself Henry this days. People give you strange looks, if you tell them you are named like a greek god. What do you call yourself these days? Wait, don't tell me. I don't want to know it. Next question?"

„What do you do for life?" Henry-Hermes sight. „I do basically the same as back then. I deliver messages dressed as… well, as myself. It's frustrating, but it's better than nothing."
I nodded although I wasn't quiet sure if I really agreed.

„I guess you didn't get your powers back? No? Ok. Do you have any contact tot he others?"
„Sometimes I meet up with Ares to have a drink or two. To talk about old times, you know? Zeus is also there, but only sometimes. I guess Hera doesn't want him to go out. She is still a jealous, crazy witch."
That didn't surprise me at all.

„This is our stop.", Hermes said and got up. Together we left the bus and I realized that we weren't in the city anymore. Instead we stood now in a nice, quiet suburb with small houses and well kept gardens. „It's the yellow house over there. Do you need anything else?" I shook my head, but I didn't stop following him. No way I wanted to miss this. Hermes said nothing, so I guessed he didn't care about my presence.

He rang the bell and after a while a tiny, old woman opened the door. She looked suspiciously at Hermes and asked then: „Yes, darling? How can I help you?" Henry-Hermes cleared his throat and said loudly: „Mrs Gardenplum? I deliver you birthday wishes from your dear family!" And then he started to sing Happy Birthday.

Both, Mrs Gardenplum and I, stared frightened at him. Hermes had never been a talented singer, but this didn't bother him at all. He sang loud, wrong and with enthusiasm.
Thankfully the song was soon over. The god of commerce took a bow and marched off. Neither me nor Mrs Gardenplum moved for some seconds then she said: „ Oh my… And I always thought my children liked me. My dear, don't get me wrong, but could you please tell your friend to get a new job? I think, he is just not made for this one."

I nodded. She didn't know, how right she was.