Ave, my airhead loonies! Last time, we left you in Salzburg, set to bring to the stage your latest musical extravaganza, DISCO NUNS FLEE THE NAZIS, when an odd event took place. You were called on in your capacity as St Cretin, psychic detective and lunatic, to solve a murder that had taken place in the heart of the Salzburg CBD. Eek! What a retro development, entirely fitting as mischievous Mercury is running in perverse reverse.
So what will happen now, I hear you ask? Or perhaps it's not you at all! Perhaps it's just another of the voices in my head. Who knows! Nonetheless, I shall continue with my appointed task. And the task is, my ghastly loonies, to prognosticate in a vile and bitter manner as to your wretched lives and misbegotten futures. Attend to me and we shall do so without delay. This is noxious November, my eccentric egotists! The eleventh knot in my handkerchief decrees it!
But what's this? Egad! Everything begins in a strange, unsettling manner. You're taken to the scene of the crime. Yikes! That's good! That's how it works in the movies! There you see a body! That's predictable but not so good, as there's quite a bit of blood. But that isn't the strange thing. What's strange is that, as mischievous Mercury rides the aging bones of grim Saturn, no one will speak or explain anything. Silently, the suited men and women that hired you watch as you poke about, but will say nothing and will not respond to your enquiries. The police arrive but they too hold you behind this wall of silence. As the Full Moon comes in cloddish Taurus, you flee back to your Salzburg apartment, bemused as to why you've been hired. You wander about the place, gesticulating and talking in an odd fashion (when don't you) to let off a little steam. You even ring your mother and ask to borrow some money, quite forgetting that you're so wealthy that you no longer need to do this. Ah! The comfort of familiar things!
But you're soon back into the puzzling frey of this Salzburg murder, studying the clues as unwavering eyes study you. But still no one speaks. Odds bodkins, tiny twits! What's going on? After all, you're having enough of a struggle working out what to do as a psychic detective, given this is your first case, apart from a stint in the loony bin in Halifax. Narcotic Neptune engages in a string of lascivious encounters as this unsettling pantomime continues. You gesture helplessly to the silent audience but they look disappointed. You espy a thing of sudden interest! Who knows what thing it is as you're such a wacky, zany type that odd things take your interest all the time. Everyone looks up, interested to see what you'll say! You say nothing but produce your best enigmatic look. You know, the one that makes you look like an imbecile. Finally, in complete frustration, you take a young person from the office aside, just as marauding Mars and mischievous Mercury exchange obscene acts with their rude bits. You ask the creature to explain what's going on. Mischievous Mercury moves forward and an explanation is forthcoming. It seems the persons in the office are devoted to the realms of spirit and the art of mediumship and they don't wish to disturb the vibrations (a very spiritual term) by talking excessively. They think that if they do, your investigation will be more difficult as you won't be able to tune in.
Egad! Vibrations! You've heard of them. Your parents had a BEACHBOYS CD. The light of understanding dawns. As a psychic detective, you're supposed to pick up on vibrations, good or bad. What a thing of wonder and importance you are! As the ghastly New Moon comes in evil Scorpio, you decide that you must learn how to conduct yourself as a psychic detective, even if you haven't got a modicum of talent to back up the conduct. You learn to glide about, looking sensitive. You practice a 'knowing nod' before the mirror. You learn to raise your hands in the air, looking as though you're feeling the 'vibrations'. Soon, the silent audience seems suitably impressed, even if you're no closer to the mystery's solution now than when you started.
But what's this? Eek! It's an eruption of exuberance in the cosmos! The great Sol Invicti crashes into silly Sagittarius, with jolly Jupiter following in hot pursuit, his crapulous bulk shaking Heaven and Earth in the wake of his ghastly passage (ugh). It seems there's a gap in the program at the Salzburg Cathedral and the production of DISCO NUNS FLEE THE NAZIS can be slotted in. All that's needed is the script and rehearsals can begin. Wonderful news in all respects but one! You haven't written the script! Ugh! But just as you sit down to begin writing, hoping to adapt DISCO NUNS GO TO AVALON (an earlier work) as quickly as you're able, you receive an urgent call. It's your employers for the Salzburg murder, asking that they have your conclusions as soon as possible for the police have received a letter, threatening another killing. And, that threat is directed at you.
Gadzooks! How fatally unsettling! Your life may be in danger! Say not so! By all the gods alive and dead, this is serious! A raft of ghastly planets fart and fornicate fantastically in the Heavens while you're on the horns of a dilemma here on Earth. What will you do? Will you write the musical and die? Or will you take drugs to coax your reluctant psychic powers into further development? Or will you just hide in your apartment, pretending to be an eagle, hoping all this will go away? One way or another, tiny loonies! It's time to stretch your wings. Click here next time to read of your fateful choice! In the meantime, ave!