The goddess of luck, Tyche, thought it would be a fun idea to start a reality show documenting all the good fortune she brings to people. In this particular episode, Nemesis swoops in to crash the party.
It's Your Lucky Day!
[A pretty goddess with a silly smile on her face stands in front of a grim prison.]
Tyche: Hello, folks, and welcome to It's Your Lucky Day! I'm your host Tyche, goddess of luck, and I'm ready to spread happiness and good fortune wherever I go. Yay for me! Today, we're going to bring some good news to one of the convicts in this awful prison behind me. If ever anybody needed a little luck… right?
[The earth near Tyche's feet starts to crack and cave in.]
Tyche: Goody! Here's our lucky guy now.
[A shovel jabs its way through the dirt, and a filthy convict claws his way from the ground, coughing and sputtering. A look of surprise and fear flashes across his face as he sees Tyche and the camera crew.]
Convict: What is this? Who are you?!
Tyche: Surprise, friend! This is you lucky day.
Convict: My what?
Tyche: Go ahead—tell the folks at home about all the lucky breaks you've had today.
Convict: Is this some kind of set up? I'm not going back in there. I'm not.
Tyche: And you won't have to! Go on. Tell everybody about how amazing your day has been.
Convict: Well... I... um... well… the correctional officer left my cell unlocked, so I decided to make a break for it. And the whole way out, all the doors were unlocked.
Convict: And then... well... I just found this shovel lying in the yard and dug my way out.
Tyche: Marvelous! But guess what, friend? Your luck doesn't end there. How would you like...
[Tyche waves her fingers in the air and a shiny new car pops into existence out of nowhere.]
Tyche: A neeeeew car!
Tyche: Not only that, but everybody has conveniently forgotten you ever did anything wrong, so no one will be chasing you. You'll drive away from here and go to a great steak place, where the waitress will comp your dinner, because she thinks you're cute. In fact, she'll think you're so cute that you'll have a whirlwind marriage, three perfect loving children, and endless happiness. Oh, and you'll win the lottery, too!
[Tyche waves her hands and rainbow-colored balloons and confetti rain from the sky. A marching band appears and blasts a peppy song.]
Convict: Wow! Thank you. Thank you so much.
Tyche: It's all in a day's work for a goddess of luck.
Convict: I don't know what I did to deserve all this...
[Suddenly, the sky darkens. The balloons and confetti swirl in quickening wind. Lightning flashes.]
Tyche: Uh oh...
[A clap of thunder booms so loud that all the windows of the car shatter. The marching band screams and runs down the road, flinging tubas and trombones behind them.
A chariot drawn by half-eagle, half-lion gryphons streaks toward Tyche and the convict. Driving the chariot is a dark and beautiful goddess with wings and steely eyes.]
Nemesis: You did nothing to deserve this, you convict! You did nothing at all!
Convict: Um… who is that?
Tyche: Bad news.
[Nemesis's gryphons bite the balloons, popping them in their beaks.]
Nemesis: You are guilty, and you deserve no good fortune. You committed horrible crimes too terrible to name. You were proud, full of hubris, thinking you were above the law. You are selfish and vain, no better than Narcissus who I cursed to stare at his own reflection until he wasted away and died. You are a disgusting piece of garbage and you shall suffer.
Convict: Um... sorry?
Tyche: Just give him a break.
Nemesis: No. Way.
Tyche: Everybody makes mistakes.
Nemesis: No. Way.
Convict: You won't put me back in there. You hear me?! Never!
[The convict suddenly grabs Tyche from behind and presses the shovel to her neck. The gryphons buck and screech in rage. Nemesis glares at him, her hair whipping about her in the wind.]
Convict: You stay away from me or it's going to be this goddess's unlucky day.
Tyche: Help me, Nemesis! Please!
Nemesis: Maybe you should do a more thorough background check before you go spreading luck next time…
Tyche: I will! I will! I swear!
Nemesis: Very well, then.
[Nemesis cracks her whip and it snakes around the Convict's ankle. He gasps in pain and drops the shovel.]
[The convict is ripped from the ground and dangles helplessly in the air at the end of Nemesis's whip.]
Nemesis: My friends, the Furies, have a horrible spot picked out for you in the Dungeon of the Damned. You shall be tormented for all eternity, suffering eternal pain in absolute darkness.
Convict: NO! PLEASE! NO!
[Nemesis streaks away, towing the flailing convict behind her.
Tyche is left alone amidst the wreckage: the shattered car, the abandoned instruments, the popped balloons.]
Tyche: Stupid Nemesis—if luck weren't random, it wouldn't be luck. Whatever, I'm going home.
[The goddess of luck takes a step, accidentally placing her foot on the shovel. The handle whips up and cracks her in the nose. Tyche grabs her nose and whimpers.
In the distance, the screech of gryphons pierces the blackened sky.]