“Jenkins!”

“Yes, King Priam?”

“Come look at what the Greeks brought us!”

“Uh-huh. The giant wooden horse. I saw it. Actually, I was meaning to talk to you about it.”

“I don’t want to talk about anything but! I love this thing!”

“Your Highness, don’t you think it’s a little bit weird?”

“I think it’s weird we haven’t had a giant wooden horse before now. I’m ashamed we lived in such a way. I mean: we’re Troy. We’re horse people.”

“We love horses, sir.”

“Big horse folks, us Trojans. Athenians like to make speeches and invent systems of governance. Spartans are into fitness. The Thebans…well, you know what the Thebans are into, Jenkins.”

“I do, sir.”

“But the Trojans are horse-people. We’re like a rich asshole’s spoiled daughter.”

“We have an equiphilic society, sir.”

“Makes us easy to shop for. Oh, just look at it, Jenkins!”

“I am looking, sir. May I ask you a question?”

“Of course I fucked a sheep when I was younger, Jenkins. It’s 1200 BC. We’re all sheep-rogering savages, even the nobility.”

“That wasn’t the question.”

“Go on, then.”

“Has anyone inspected the gift?”

“Thoroughly!”

“Ah. Then I’m no longer worried.”

“And no card was found. Which is a little tacky on behalf of the Greeks. You always put in a card.”

“How close was the inspection, sir?”

“The men looked everywhere. One guy thought it might have blown under a table, so he lifted the table up, but it wasn’t under there. We did discover one important thing about the horse, though.”

“Yes?”

“Poplar. Or ash. The men were split down the middle. Both are fine woods for building giant horses out of.”

“Right. Your Highness, did anyone look inside of the horse?”

“Jenkins, are you from Ur?”

“No, sir.”

“Because you babble on.”

“Wonderful, sir.”

“Had that one in my pocket. Well, not my pocket. Pockets won’t be invented for 3,000 years. But you know what I mean.”

“I do so enjoy your wit. Sir, we really need to have someone look inside the horse.”

“Why?”

“I can literally see people moving around in there. Look for yourself. There are gaps between some of the pieces of wood, and you can see shadows.”

“Ooh, maybe it’s clockwork. What time is it? Perhaps it will chime the hour.”

“It is not a cuckoo horse, Your Highness.”

“But I’m cuckoo for it!”

“Yes, sir. Please, Your Highness, begging your indulgence: just lemme poke a bunch of spears through it.”

“What!? Never! Hell of way to treat a gift, Jenkins! What have the Greeks done to deserve this kind of disrespect?”

“They killed both of your sons, sir.”

“Oh, yes. I know this, Jenkins. And I grieve their loss.”

…

“But the horse makes up for a lot of it.”

“Oh, sir.”

“Have you seen the detail work on the head? What nostrils!”

“Your Highness, there is something incredibly hinky about all of this. They just left? After ten years? The Greeks just gave up and went home and left us this enormous wooden horse that I am POSITIVE I can hear people moving around in?”

“Jenkins, last time you were positive about something, I ended up investing ten grand in a drive-through rib joint.”

“You’re never going to let that go, are you?”

“No one wants to eat ribs in their car, Jenkins! It’s too messy for the car!”

“Lesson learned, sir. Please let’s focus on the present.”

“Horsey.”

“You are fond of it, sir, and that’s your kingly right. One more question: Who precisely gave it to us? Was it Agamemnon?”

“No. Odysseus.”

“Are you shitting me?”

“Jenkins! Watch your tone!”

“Odysseus, sir? He might as well be Loki, sir. Or Bugs Bunny. The man is simply not to be trusted.”

“He did steal my watch.”

“It’s a trick, Your Highness. Let’s just set it on fire and be done with the whole ordeal.”

“Tell you what, Jenkins. We’ll sleep on it.”

“Let me at least leave a guard.”

“You may leave Sleepy Bob to guard my horse tonight.”

“We’re all gonna die.”