Abyssis Liquides Imaginaires 2022

...in some ocean, somewhere in the world. Not sunk like Atlantis, but spat out by Poseidon, who was so disgusted that he regurgitated the rubbish he had for breakfast, and in reverse. This brought forth a lot of junk, vermin, spawn of hell, wicked people, hybrids, monsters, and whatever one can or cannot imagine as scourges of the world. Furthermore, Hades had once again tidied up the underworld and sent him everything that didn’t fit into the hellish bio-bin, and then slammed the hell gate shut. Well, he loved such jokes.
He had scolded and threatened him so many times, saying he would drown hell because the fool kept burning plastic waste.
On the island, the Cyclops Polyphemus (Poseidon’s wayward son) was cooking his mother-in-law in a copper cauldron, no, not in water, but in a chemical broth that environmental offenders still discharge into rivers or the sea. She and her silicone implants burst into funny bubbles.
A werewolf was picking meat scraps from his teeth and swore to bite something younger next time, as the meat smelled very rancid.
Nosferato shuffled by in those rubber shoes and, because they hindered him from flying at night, he threw them into the fire. The smell of burnt rubber wafted over the island. Moreover, he had gotten Botox injections and couldn’t close his eyes during the day anymore.
Charon had brought a load of environmental offenders and hurried back to the River Styx because he couldn’t stand it on the island. The sinners dangled in the wind, and their flesh fermented. Not even the sea monsters Scylla and Charybdis wanted to eat it anymore.

Cerberus, the three-headed hellhound, was the only sensible one on board. Poseidon had freed him from his chains, and so he gratefully guarded the island, ensuring that none of this rabble escaped.

Poseidon was fed up with the stench, chemical broth, and clouds of disgust. He drew his trident and hurled the island back underground.