Nearly two millenniums ago, there lived a young man called Mercury, famed for his fleetness.

Mercury lived and labored in a small town in Central Italy -- a week's travel from the nearest large city. And this town was called Collegii Statinus, and nicknamed "The Valley of Happiness."

Zeus summoned young Mercury and assigned to him the honorable vocation of "courier of foodstuffs."

The young man traveled far and wide throughout the town, bringing vital victuals to the dwellings of the hungry, the needy and the ravenous.

Mercury performed his duties with pride and courage, and felt great satisfaction in knowing he was helping to appease the painful hunger of his fellow citizens.

He was prompt with deliveries and courteous to customers, for which he often was rewarded with gold and silver coins bearing the likeness of his nation's most revered leaders.

Sometimes, however, young Mercury went away from a private dwelling without recompense, his efforts unappreciated. On these frequent occasions, his ire was incited, and he broiled bitterly with an inner fury.

He would think to himself, "Sirrah, clearly thou canst afford the six gold coins to pay for the foodstuffs, yet thou seest not fit to spare me even one small silver coin for my efforts. Thou art a gluttonous swine! A pagan infidel! May you rot and itch in every nether region!"

But his noble sense of honor generally discouraged such base sentiments.

On a certain winter night a storm ravaged Collegii Statinus, blockading helpless citizens inside their dwellings, and making it nearly impossible to traverse paths and byways.

But Mercury was obstinate, if not invincible. He cautiously wielded the reins of his olive green Dodge chariot, sliding dangerously upon the icy terrain, straining his eyes to see through the blinding, wind-blown snow.

Mercury finally reached his first destination, the 10th in a series of rooms inside the Intermuralus Athleticus building. He was met inside the door by a sentry.

"What business hast thou here, churlish knave?"

"I bring good tidings and tasty lettuce greens," Mercury answered.

"Ah, yes," said the sentry, "I have been forewarned of your arrival, and I have been instructed to pay you the exact cost of the greenery."

Mercury nervously asked, "Did the woman who requested the lettuce greens leave, perchance, any extra coins with which to reward me for my haste and effort?"

The sentry shook his head. "No extra coins were left with me. Now be off, sirrah!" Angrily, Mercury returned to his chariot.

His next destination was a dormitorium which housed young squires, known as the Hall of Lyons.

Mercury entered the edifice and found himself caught amidst a violent mock-battle being staged by the squires. They gleefully were firing streams of water from small plastic weapons, and Mercury bravely withstood the skirmish.

He found the customer's room -- #CXVII -- and delivered the piping-hot strombolium. Again, he was not rewarded for his efforts, and his fury heightened.

Mercury's third destination was the home of Otto Erectus, located three miles outside the town, on the land owned by Sir Whitehall.

Mercury arrived, strode to the door and handed Otto his pizzaii pepperonicus. Otto paid him seven gold pieces, including a gift of three silver coins.

But Mercury had made a rare mistake -- he had forgotten to bring Otto Erectus his six containers of beverage.

Otto erupted into an insane tantrum.

Mercury's pride had been wounded, and he was on the verge of tears. He drove his chariot to its final destination, on the north end of Sir Allen's landholdings.

As he pulled up to the dwelling, he spotted the numerals on the door -- DXVI. Mercury's most dreaded nightmare had come true. He had arrived at . . . the stairs from hell!

The biting sleet tore at his face, as he walked to the rear entrance. Balancing his pizzaii container in one hand, he began his arduous journey up the twelve flights of wobbling, swaying steps, each of which was nary a hand wide.

The first plateau offered a brief respite, but he quickly resumed his climb. Up he went, some 60 or 70 feet into the dark wintry air.

Finally he reached the door, and the occupants, thankfully, were polite and generous. They rewarded him sufficiently.

"Honorable Mercury," said the customer, "wilt thou not warm thyself, and partake of a container of fire-brewed hops, barley and yeast with me and mine worthy companions?"

"Tis done," Mercury replied.

As the great storm slowly languished outside, so ended another challenging day of vocational fulfillment for the fleet Mercury -- that legendary courier of foodstuffs.