Dionysus was a great king, named after the god of wine by his parents. He had everything anyone could possibly want—wealth, fine clothes, feasts every night, and a lovely wife. One of his advisors, Damocles, was constantly praising Dionysus and telling him, "What a fine life you have, O sire! Any person on this world would be lucky indeed to be in your place."

Damocles's praises continued for days, weeks, months, into years. Although Dionysus was friends with Damocles, he soon grew tired of the constant praises from the man. One night, at dinner, Damocles was continuing with his praises and said, "Sire, the feast tonight was as delicious as all of them! One would be lucky to have it each night, every night, and feast themselves fat upon it."

Dionysus sighed, rolling his eyes at his wife, Helen. "Damocles, do you not get tired of singing my praises?" he asked. "One gets tired hearing them constantly."

"O sire, how could one so esteemed as yourself ever be tired of hearing your own praises? Truly, you deserve them. One would be lucky to take your place."

Dionysus abruptly slammed his fist into the table, startling his wife. "Dionysus!" she said reproachfully.

"I'm sorry, my love," Dionysus apologized. "Damocles, if you truly think that, then take my place! Is that what you wish?"

Horrified that the king might think he was trying to steal his throne, Damocles hastily said, "Oh, sire! I wouldn't want to take your throne from you."

"But would you like to experience my riches for a day?" Dionysus questioned.

Damocles sat up straight, his eyes going wide with wonder. "I would certainly, sire, if that is your wish!"

Dionysus nodded, standing. "You shall sleep in my room tonight. Come, Helen. Let us leave King Damocles to his own devices."

The following morning, after the best night of sleep Damocles had ever had, he got up and got dressed. The servants put out his clothes and he put on the silken garbs. Clothes had never felt so good on Damocles before, and he couldn't keep the smile off his face. It was no wonder King Dionysus loved being king so much!

He went down to breakfast, his stomach growling. Last night's feast for dinner seemed like it had been ages ago. He sat down at the table and smiled at Dionysus and his wife when they came in, dressed in lesser people's clothes. "Good morning, Dionysus! Helen!" he said.

Dionysus looked amused and smirked. "Good morning, Damocles. Did you sleep well?"

Damocles nodded enthusiastically and was just about to dig into his breakfast when he saw the surprise Dionysus had planned for him. A massive sword hung over his head, hanging by the thinnest of threads. "What in the world?" Damocles yelled, scrambling from his seat and hiding under the table. "That thing could kill me!"

"Exactly," Dionysus said. "That is what I live by, every day, every moment. If I let my guard down for even a moment, someone will kill me. Do you want my position and crown now?"

"Take it back! Take it back!" Damocles cried, and never forgot the price of Dionysus's fortune again.