Great giggling gargoyles! It's you, tiny tikes! The odious ovine, resplendent in the fleece of tainted glory! We left you last time with a battle won but a war lost, as you sat in the depression of your broken dreams. And, as if that's not enough, the calendar turns, as calendars are wont to do. This time the indicator points to malodorous May, the current month, if my reading of the fifth knot in my handkerchief is correct. Tremble in your baby booties, my ram type things! For these are the vile and bitter prognostications that pertain thereto.
Vamping Venus disports herself in your idiot sign and you sit, disporting yourself, a forlorn figure in the bedraggled military nonsense that was once the finery of battle. You idly wonder if you should have your hair done. However, as the great Sol Invicti rails at jolly Jupiter, you reflect on your impecunious state and reckon that it'll have to be with the nail scissors in front of the mirror if there's any coiffure to be done. Mischievous Mercury's entrance into cloddish Taurus sees you counting the few pennies you have left. The grand trine in water signs (how aqueous) sees you counting the losses of home, family, fortune and faith you have undergone.
Come the Full Moon in gloomy Scorpio, you known nothing but a creeping, morbid despair. All your hunger has emptied you out, my little loony things. Marauding Mars grips the weakening thighs of narcotic Neptune and you cry for the lonely Ram (you)! Friendless wanderer! Fortune's fool! There's no one to have sex with, apart from a favourite bath toy which, it must be said, is in a dilapidated condition, due to previous exertions. As dark Pluto provides evil congress for the great Sol Invicti and mischievous Mercury, you plead with the gods of earth and sea, of stone and sky to bring you succour and solace, and also lots of sex and money (not necessarily in that order). You add an afterthought that says you'll accept all gifts of things red in colour.
And what's this? Ye gods and little fishes! Your prayers are answered by the gods instanter. Egad! How unusual for them to be sober enough to reply! Mischievous Mercury and the vain and selfish Sun god clatter into nasty but supple Gemini, the two-faced one. There is a ringing sound. And, by my sainted aunt, you'll never guess what it is. It's the goddess Telephone. Ringing on the telephone!
I must here make explanation of the myths involved! And, if it seems 'all Greek' to you, it is! Telephone was sister to the better known and in some ways more fortunate Persephone, a goddess abducted by Hades, the lord of the underworld! Snatched away to live with him in hell because of her beauty. And, I say 'more fortunate' for Persephone, after being condemned to hell by dint of this abduction, was periodically released therefrom to enjoy the pleasures of the upper world of air and light, creating the earliest example of periodic detention. It was due to the imprecations and intervention of her mother, Demeter, that she was released. It was also into her company, revealing that the periodic liberty will have had its pains. Hades then used the seeds of a pomegranate to lure Persephone back to hell and his own evil offices. Sadly, as Persephone was more than unusually fond of the pomegranate, the device always worked. Once returned, Persephone would suffer in the darkness without the good offices of Demeter, a goddess known for corny jokes, large breasts and the organic trademark.
Telephone, by contrast to Persephone, suffered a more tragic fate. It is not widely known in the world of myth but she was captured at the same time as her better remembered sister. And she too was forbidden the world of air and light for eternity by Hades, but she was granted no release therefrom, periodic or otherwise. However, she was allowed the use of a magical wire (devised by ingenious Mercury) and it was by this means she could communicate with the world above, thus naming (in eponymous fashion) the device with which we are today familiar.
Here endeth the lesson! We return to the tale of your wretched life. After all that, you answer the phone and on the other end is the goddess Telephone. She heard your pleas as they echoed in the bowels of hell and has decided to respond, as she was bored and none of the other residents was sober. And, by all gods alive and dead, she offers an interesting proposition.
A New Moon comes in the sign of nasty, two-faced Gemini and she offers the use of a direct line to hell. Do you realize what this means? You can speak with the dead. Eek! You can communicate with demons, greater and lesser. Aargh! You may even speak with the devil. Gadzooks! How infernal! You could become a medium and channel extraordinaire. Mischievous Mercury clashes with dark Pluto and Telephone bids you decide. To reject it now means the offer will be withdrawn and never made again. To accept means you must pay hell's price, a price you cannot know until you consent.
As you've nothing else going for you other than depression and failure and, as you don't imagine that hell will charge any more than most earthly providers, you consent. By my sainted aunt, ram type things! What have you done? Click here next time and see! Ave!