This story is not intended to violate any copyrights held by MCA, Universal Studios, Renaissance Pictures or any other entity involved with the making of Hercules: The Legendary Journeys or Xena: Warrior Princess.
“Are you sure you want to try this?’ Hercules asked as they walked toward the tavern.
“What do you mean?” Iolaus asked.
“Aren’t you afraid it’s going to be, you know, Falawful?” Hercules questioned after having tasted the reputation of the meager chef two times too many.
Iolaus was much more daring with his culinary experimentation. The demigod would often describe Iolaus as having a cast iron stomach, but even Falafel’s cooking could corrode the hunter’s almost indestructible gullet.
“Naw,” Iolaus answered unconcerned. “I heard from very good sources that Falafel is just running the tavern. He’s not actually cooking.”
“That’s…good to know,” Hercules answered somewhat relieved.
The two men walked into the dimly lit tavern. They were quickly greeted by Falafel.
“Iolaus, Hercules,” Falafel smiled, “So glad you could make it. Come. I’ll show you to my special hero’s table.”
Falafel escorted them to a table close to the kitchen. As they walked to their respective table, they realized they must be special indeed. They passed by at least a half dozen tables, all of which were empty.
Falafel handed them a menu and then quickly disappeared.
Iolaus and Hercules mulled over the menu in silence.
Moments later, Falafel returned. He had carefully removed his maitre de’s tunic and replaced it with another, less ostentatious garb. He carried a small scroll and a piece of charcoal. “What can I get for you two today?”
“What do you suggest?” Iolaus asked politely. His mouth was already salivating.
“Maybe the dish I named after you?” Falafel suggested.
“Really?” Iolaus asked. His interest was piqued. He surveyed the menu. “Where is it?” he asked when he couldn’t immediately find it.
“It’s right there,” he said pointing to the word spelled out G-Y-R-O. “I call it a hero.”
“Um,” Hercules corrected the chef, “Hero is spelled H-E-R-O.”
“Oops,” Falafel apologized. He grabbed the two menu’s, crossed out the misspelling and quickly made the change, handing the paper back to them.
“I’ll have the gyro,” Iolaus announced enthusiastically.
Falafel looked at Hercules expectantly.
The demigod closed the menu. “I’ll just have the soup,” he answered less enthusiastically.
“Turtle’s soup it is,” Falafel answered. He rolled up the scroll and slid into the kitchen before Hercules could question his menu selection.
The meal came and the two men ate hungrily. Iolaus moaned merrily with each bite of his gyro. Even Hercules seemed pleased with the soup. He was surprised at the reptilian laden broth.
“You like?” Falafel asked when they finished.
“My compliments to the chef,” Iolaus exalted, “What’s in this gyro?”
“I’ll let Tortuga tell you,” Falafel said snapping his fingers.
A large green turtle ambled out of the kitchen and waddled over to Iolaus and Hercules. “Can I help you?” the turtle spoke.
Iolaus immediately woke up from his dream, his brow beaded with sweat. “That’s the last time I’m eating Falafel’s cooking,” he pronounced.
“Sure. That’s what you said the last time,” Hercules answered groggily from across the fire. Then he fell back to sleep.
