"Girls, girls, are we that old! Look at him. Isn't he a handsome one. Ah, how sad. To die so young!"
"Atropos, your were always one to talk too much. Here are your scissors. Now get on with it!"
Clotho was busy spinning a thread. Her spindle moved slowly at times, then rapidly. Lachesis, bent forward, examining the thread, comparing its length to an unseen measuring stick. "Right about there, sister dear. Oh, give him another inch. No harm done. He is a handsome young man."
Atropos looked at the scissors handed her, sighed. "I would it were otherwise, young man. But we are duty bound. Nothing can stay us from our labor."
Wide-eyed he stood as the scissors opened, approached the thread. "Wait! Zeus, Zeus, He wants you. You must cease immediately. He eagerly awaits your company."
"Zeus! Olympus! Parties! Dancing! He wants us. Child, you can't mean it. 'Twas he who banished us to this cold, dank cave. And now he wishes our return? Well, he's plainly drunk too much of that nectar. I knew it would eventually get to him. Clotho, have you a thread for Zeus?"
"Oh, never. Well, I admit, I tried. After all, it wasn't at all nice of him to send us here. Anyway, it kept unraveling."
"Lachesis, give the boy another foot or two. Oh, give him an extra yard. Boy, we'll get dressed as soon as we've put away our tools. Zeus wants to see us!"
"Eh, please, don't put away your tools. He is extremely interested in your skills. You must bring them along."
"Learned to appreciate us, has he? My, how many eons has it taken! Oh, very well."