#groovius

Moth Mondays with the Funtastic World of Hanna-Barbera: Groovius from The Roman Holidays

For the nearly-teen-age son of Gus and Precocia Holiday, handling Brutus out of the sight of the Holidays' rather pet-peeved landlord, Mr. Evictus, can be a piece of sweetmeat, as we learn thus:

What's more interesting than to get Brutus, our pet lion of gladiatorial rescue background, out of sight when Evictus comes over to collect the rent?

Evictus, as we all know, cannot stand pets of any kind--even gladiatorial-rescue lions. So it happens that, when the rent collection comes around (and in case you ask, our rent is some 200 denarii a month), Gus--my dad--comes up with a rather sure-fire idea to keep Brutus out of Evictus' gaze of having me walk Brutus around the neighbourhood for the most part. Which gets rather weird when it's close to the Quarter of Venus, not the sort of place anyone of my standing in Rome would want to be caught in--ladies of easy virtue, not to mention a rather putrid stench of urine, bad wine, sweaty bedsheets and attempts to defuse the awful stench with perfumes and oils of exotic origin.

Yet, this one afternoon, Gus, sensing where Evictus might come at any moment--and in his inevitable pet-hate mode, replete with a few specimens of Roman swearing I won't get into here, yet is bound to give him a heart attack not even the hot-spring baths can cure him of--sends me with Brutus on leash and with instructions to walk him around for awhile. And I admit that the somewhat dusty air, driven by a mild wind common to the time of year, was a bit rough on both of us. Admittedly, half the neighbourhood couldn't resist the sight of Brutus being walked--and driven for some reason to the Quarter of Venus. You can easily smell it as you approach it two streets over, as I explained. Being of a certain age as I am, you're not exactly expected to patronise such "houses" for any reason until "that certain time" comes.

But Brutus--what sends him to the Quarter of Venus whenever Evictus is back at the apartment house?

It turns out that several of the "ladies" who make such a living as they do there actually consider him a mascot of sorts. Credit that to one such walk of a couple seasons back, when Brutus smelled something vaguely familiar, perhaps a reminder of his days in the gladiatorial arena. Yet whatever it was, it led into the Quarter of Venus, and to a particular "house" of that district which you could say attracts the worst of the lot, the sort who want their love cheap and easy. The keeper of that "house", as it turned out, had that sort of odour which attracted Brutus' attention and led him thus--which you might call body odour combined with the smells of such a crazy profession as that invoked in the name of Venus.

Sesterius, as she called herself, decided to pet Brutus as he strolled by the door of the "house" ... and for some reason, Brutus actually managed to like the attention. So did the girls who worked that "house" and offered all manner of table scraps from the luncheon, which Brutus refused except for a bone from the leg of mutton served the previous Sunday. THAT he could accept ... but not without sensing the attention of half of the other "ladies" so working, who probably hadn't seen a lion like ours outside of the gladiatorial combats.

"I just have to admit," Brutus remarked as we walked home, "those disciples of Venus just admore this lion! I must seem to be oozing charm, grace, savoir-fare besides--"

"Don't get too easily accustomed to it," said I. Which would become something of a talking point over the bread with Gus and Precocia. Now, to be honest, they weren't too rash about the fact of Brutus' sense of smell attracting him into the Quarter of Venus on that walk we had, but still, it was felt best that some caution needed to be exercised until the time came to learn honestly and rationally about what Venus expects as the goddess of romance and romantic love within the context of budding masculinity. Or, in the context of Imperial Rome, "the facts of life."

Come to think of it, Precocia wondered if such might have to be something to address to the veterinarian. Especially before Brutus gets some rather weird ideas in the Quarter of Venus sometime.

"... and that's the story from The Moth"