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    Virgo | Soul Connection | Relationships | Runes | Zodiac

    VEXATIOUS VIRGO...

    Click for Last Month  The Awful Ambiguities of April 2006  Click for Next Month
    Virgo Greetings, odious anal intensives! We left you last time sinking into depths, mysterious and inscrutable, as the slimy fingers of unconsciousness reached out to take you in their dread grasp. Eek! Now there's a job for clean water and a scrubbing brush at some future date!

    You had arrived at a distant manse in Syria whilst engaged in an illicit trade in catmint and a legitimate traffic in frozen foods, primarily orange juice, as I recall. So much for manic March! Now what of awful April! Let us consult the prognostications, vile and bitter, that pertain thereto and we shall discover all. Or perhaps we shall discover nothing, as you're unconscious, a state that I infinitely prefer as it happens, if indeed it can be said that I infinitely prefer anything!

    Enough of that! Any more meanderings and I shall entirely lose my way and fall asleep, a tragic development as I have only awoken tardily to the task at hand. Tremble with your scrubbing brushes raised, my ghastly surface-wiping types! For I am Asperitus and this is the doom that I, the daft doctor, do prescribe!

    Grim Saturn grinds creaking knees, aged bones and wrinkled skin into forward motion in Leo and your solar twelfth house, a wretched realm of mischief and hidden naughtiness if ever there was one. Shriek and double shriek that such things should be! Then vamping Venus joins in this display of cosmic flatulence by slithering lasciviously into wretched Pisces, surrounding your semi-conscious and partially recumbent form with beings made in some bizarre and outré demimonde. Marauding Mars assails the naughty bits of dark Pluto, underworld god, and your declining consciousness and semi-recumbent posture are subject to a volcanic upsurge of unspeakable memories from a nightmare childhood. You writhe, shake and thrash till the Full Moon in lackwit Libra shines her grim sepulchral light upon the naughty doings of mischievous Mercury and dark Pluto, underworld god. Hidden passions rise in your body as you're tortured by the ghosts of ghastly partners past that ranted, raved and criticized you for endlessly scrubbing the toilet, the shower alcove and, worst of all, for colour coordinating the clothes pegs and garments on the washing line. It was the underwear that merited particularly close attention. Marauding Mars barrels into slimy Cancer while mischievous Mercury writhes and shrieks his way into addlepate Aries.

    Thus, unconscious still, you channel the anger of a thousand thousand slights upon your imbecilic obsession with perfection. The ancient manse to which you've come is rocked to the its foundations by your screams of rage and fury. All the great causes you have fought for! Werewolves, new Luddites, herbs and healing, not to mention a wealth of crusades on the twin themes of domestic and persona hygiene! If only the entire world could know the scrubbing brush as you do.

    And yet what have you received for this selfless searching for a better world? Only scorn, derision, little money and an occasional exciting sexual encounter in amongst a wealth of dull and unhygienic ones. You scream aloud once more, releasing your pain in a terrible spiritual cleansing. Somewhere deep inside you, in your trance, you resolve to leave the cruel and thoughtless world behind and yet again seek the solace of the wild and simple way of life. All this comes as the great Sol Invicti grinds into Taurus, startles grim Saturn with a disgusting sexual proposition and then cavorts indecently with the loony lunar light to make a New Moon in that same cloddish sign of the Bull. A somnambulist, you rise up now to face the fearsome ghostly shrieking of all those, friends and family, that have never understood you.

    As cranky Chiron and the great Sol Invicti conjoin in mutual concupiscence, you make a magical gesture of shamanic power, sweeping aside the phantoms. You step from the house, taking nothing but the clothes you stand in, set to find a new life in an unknown destination. Click here in malodorous May for the next exciting episode of WILD VIRGINS OF THE FOREST. In the meantime, tiny carping nitwits, hail and farewell!


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