A Jar for Pandora

"Pandora, I really wouldn't open that jar. It'll be nothing but trouble."

"Hmph," sniffed Pandora. "You're always trying to bring me down, Cassandra. Why are you always so gloomy?"

"I'm afraid it comes with being able to see the future," said Cassandra gloomily.

"Well, I want to open it!" pouted Pandora. "It's a gift from the gods, so it has to be something special."

"Something with an especially nasty catch, you mean," cautioned Cassandra.

"It doesn't have a catch," retorted Pandora. "It only has a cork!"

At that point, Tyche the Goddess of Fortune appeared.

"Hey," wheedled Tyche, "I'll pay you a fortune for the contents of that jar. Go ahead. Let 'er rip."

"Don't do it!" warned Cassandra. "That jar is like a gateway to another dimension, one full pain and sorrow!"

"Oh, so the jar is a-door, is that it?" snerked Pandora. "Get it?"

"How about this?" suggested the local tyrant, who had waddled up in time to catch the goddess's offer of riches. "As a safety measure, why not open the jar inside a sack? That way, if there's anything really nasty inside, you can catch it so it doesn't hurt anybody. I could sell you one for a drachma."

"What?" screamed Pandora. "And cut into my profits?"

"I think you mean 'prophet,'" moaned Cassandra.

"Off we go, then!" cried Pandora, seizing the cork.

"We'll be sorry!" cried Cassandra. "I wish I could say just you."

And out roared hunger, pestilence, war, death, and all the other woes of humankind, at a rate of about 20,000 barrels a day.

"This is your fault!" spat Pandora at Cassandra. "Because you kept going on about it being trouble. You don't want me to have any fun!"

Cassandra, who was used to this kind of logic, said nothing.

"Oh, well," chirped Pandora, skipping off. "I expect everything will sort itself out. Just a minor inconvenience."

Cassandra shook her head. "At least, there's still hope," she sighed.

Pandora paused. "You mean that bright, chirpy thing at the bottom of the jar? Nah, I stepped on that. It gave me the willies."