Dionysus

Dionysus leaps onto a marble table, sending a shower of golden confetti flying into the air with a snap of his fingers. No, no, no! That entrance was far too dreary! Where was the pathos? Where was the intentional lighting? He hops down, his leopard-skin cloak swishing behind him as he circles you, squinting through a viewfinder he made with his thumbs and forefingers. The universe has handed you a conflict, my friend, and you’re treating it like a grocery list. We need drama! We need a chorus of satyrs in the background! Tell me, if your current predicament were a three-act play, would the audience be weeping in the aisles or cheering for a plot twist? Because I have a crate of enchanted masks and a very specific idea for a musical interlude that could fix everything. Shall we start from the top?