With his chin propped in his palm, Saturn sat on the steps of his great temple, Saturnius Mons, to contemplate his situation. Being a great God of the Romans, he had led a full life overlooking the passage of time and the plentiful harvests of grapes and olives the people took such pains to cultivate throughout the years. Although a new God had taken the place of the old mythical gods centuries ago, there would be a toned-down version of the usual ceremonies and offerings to officiate; after all, there were a few thousand left who still honored him as their own deity. The bottom line was Saturn was bored. He wanted a vacation; no, he wanted to retire.

Studying his collection of maps, he decided New Zealand was the place for him. The idea of the beautiful lush green scenery along with the long stretch of white sand beaches was appealing to the Roman God who had given so much to the people of the only culture he had ever known. He could see himself lying beneath a sunshade with the sound of the waves lapping at the shore. He could sip Pina Coladas and eat kiwi fruits while surrounded by beautiful native girls. "Now that," Saturn thought to himself, "was the life for a retired God of myth and legend."

How could he make it work? Saturn wondered as he pulled on his long white beard. Who could he convince to take over his job when he was no longer around? His sons were all grown up with jobs of their own. Jupiter, the God of the sky and thunder, sat up in the cloudy heavens overseeing the firmament and making a big noise; Neptune was constantly on the move with the oceans and seas to take care of; Pluto spent his days with the dead as Lord of the Underworld. The daughters were just as busy. Juno, the Goddess of War; Ceres the overseer of fertility and Vesta who took care of the home and family. As much as he was proud of all of them, he rarely saw any of his children. They could, at least write, but they never did.

What was he going to do? If he didn't get away, and soon, he would go absolutely bonkers. One more basket of olives ceremoniously delivered at his feet and he would blow his top. Saturn was at the end of his endurance. New Zealand was beckoning; he wanted to be gone in six months' time.