Once upon a time there lived a King, Laius of Thebes, who supported a woman’s Right to Choose after a pediatrician predicted that his son would drive him to an early grave. But Laius’s pregnant wife, Jocasta, a Right-to-Lifer, already had the nursery set up and a cute name picked out: Oedipus. So, after she bore the boy, her husband spirited Oed from the delivery room and strung him up on a mountainside. Soon the stork arrived in the form of a local shepherd who delivered the colicky kid to the childless king of Corinth.Later, Oed, a teen now, was hitchhiking on Delphi Road when a motorist—with an uncanny resemblance to his old man, Laius—gave him the brush, the boy lost his head, and popped him. Then he continued on for Thebes, home of the fearful Sphinx.
Part lion, part bird, with a woman’s face and breasts: The Sphinx ate anybody who couldn’t figure out her riddles. Everybody. The mayor, Creon, was offering to any man who solved the monster’s riddle not only the crown, but his recently widowed sister, Jocasta.
Oedipus solved the riddle, took the throne, and tied the knot with Jo. The young man had always preferred older, more mature women. Ingenues had never interested him. Oed’s bride bore him two strong sons, Polynices and Eteocles, and two beautiful daughters, Antigone and Ismene. Each was the image of both parents, had exactly 10 fingers apiece, Oed and Jo were delighted, praised the gods, and sacrificed profusely.
Then one morning locusts descended on Thebes, and an oracle informed Oed that they’d leave as soon as the murderer of Laius, the former king, was apprehended.
By nightfall, his senior seer, a blind transsexual by the name of Tiresias, hurried onto the royal portico with a local shepherd. The conversation began in whispers at the monarch’s ear but soon rose to baying, beating of breasts, and gnashing of teeth. Meanwhile, the queen swooned and was carried to the powder room.
After dismissing his seer, Oedipus sat down at his desk stocked with vellum, the royal seal, and golden quills. He composed more than a few letters that evening, tearing up each only after a few words. This is the last surviving draft…
by David Comfort, TMN | Read more:
Image: Oedipus explains the riddle of the Sphinx, byJean Auguste Dominique Ingres, c. 1805
