Telemachus was minding his own business, mostly worrying about how he was going to protect his mother from the suitors, and also, where and who his father was—which, at this point, was an everyday thought.—

As he was walking out the palace, cautious of the suitors, one of them had the nerve to walk up to him and throw a piece of bread on Telemachus’ head as he started going on about how Telemachus should open his mother’s doors to let those men in, so they could get with her. And that hog of a man dared to call Penelope a whore? That was it.

“Don’t you dare call my mother a tramp!” Telemachus snapped, finally. He was quiet and patient for far too long with those suitors.