Asperitus Casting Runes...
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Gadzooks, it’s you, isn’t it, revolting ram type things! Then by my little brown bottle, I must be awake (I’m not always certain of this)! Eek! And I must be alive! Aargh! And what’s worse, I must be awake and alive in a benighted universe ruled by insane gods! Yikes and double yikes! ! Oh well! If all of the above are true, then it must be time to prognosticate! And so I do! For this indeed is manic May and I am Asperitus, oracle of bitter truth! Seat yourselves upon your flatulent backsides and read on!
Last time we left you in perilous climes (your usual appointments) as a wicked sorcerer took you beyond the boundaries of pleasure and pain to a world you’ve never known before. However, as the Full Moon in odious Scorpio brings a Lunar Eclipse to your solar eighth house, the sorcerer has a heart attack and dies, mercifully bringing that particular line of drivel to an end.
As the great Sol Invicti clashes with nasty Neptune, you free yourself from the manacles of sorcerous pain and inveigle money from your erstwhile captor’s associates in exchange for your silence (worth it at any price). As mischievous Mercury moves forward in your sign, you return home, desperate to resume a normal life. Marauding Mars moves into snivelling Cancer and you land on the doorstep of the family home.
But what’s this, ovine nitwits? Mischievous Mercury returns to cloddish Taurus and rows about money you once borrowed from your parents erupt immediately you set foot in the door. Vamping Venus turns retrograde and neighbours and siblings arrive at the family manse, adding to your duress. They come demanding redress for slights and hurts inflicted by yourself in days of yore (beatings, arson, borrowing cars and wrecking them, firearms incidents etc).
Come the New Moon in cloddish Taurus, you’re forced to look for work in order to pay the money you owe, as well as meeting the small claims and ‘damages’ lawsuits. As the great Sol Invicti enters lunatic Gemini, you take a job on the buses or become a ticket inspector for a sporting ground or cinema complex. Soon we find you working all the hours that god sends as though you’ve turned into a goatish tragedy. Great gods alive and dead! How humiliating! I must save the photos for my album.
Then tragedy strikes as it invariably does when the wheels of Heaven turn in a benighted universe ruled by insane gods. The great Sol Invicti clashes with idiot Uranus and your bus crashes or there’s a riot in the ticket line. You’re knocked unconscious, thrown to the floor and relieved of both takings and wallet as mischievous Mercury wrestles with nasty Neptune. Thus you awake to find yourself amid a gaggle of accident victims or riotous persons. And, surging along the road come dissatisfied employers, aggrieved parents, neighbours and siblings, demanding restitution and justice or your head on a platter.
Could things get worse, little ovine nitwits? We can only trust this may be so! Until next time when we go from bad to worse! Ta! Ta!
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