-
Greetings, tiny nitwits! How are your yapping mouths and twitching limbs this month? Before you become excited and attempt to answer me, realize that the question is merely one of form and not one of interest. Last time we left, nuptials were in the offing, your own with your impending marriage to a demon, Odiferous Pigswill by name. This was all part of yet another clever ploy of yours that had, as usual, gone completely wrong. And now, it may well be too late to save your immortal soul, let alone your agile body, your more agile mouth and your even more agile moral nature.
Great Heavens, it probably is too late! Ah well! How sad! Never mind! Now, let us resume the tragic tale of Dr. Fustian Gemini, idiot of days, and let it run to its tragic conclusion before we both die of boredom. There you are, tiny twits! On the brink of a marriage (jolly Jupiter conjoining vamping Venus) made in Hell, hemmed in by creatures of the demonic persuasion coming in all shapes and sizes. Some 'comings' are in fact quite literal as many varieties of infernal species tend towards overexcitement, especially on the occasion of eternal damnation for an out and out fool such as yourself.
Mischievous Mercury races into idiot Sagittarius and you begin talking nineteen to the dozen as you tend to when uncertain about your course of action. Such a stratagem either buys you the time you need to devise something clever or numbs all else present into a state of unconsciousness. In this instance, it is the first that applies. The great Sol Invicti clashes with nasty Neptune and you suddenly bring to mind that you are an adept of the dark arts, with all the powers of Hell behind you, despite that fact that same are arraigned before you in a distinctly hostile manner. Mischievous Mercury clashes with idiot Uranus and you cast a frantic spell to transform yourself into a tiny creature so that you can flee the room. You become a hare, little chumps, and leap from the window of the enchanted castle to the fields below.
But, by my little brown bottle, your intended grasps your cunning plan and transforms to a greyhound to chase you. Egad! You espy a river running through the fields, leap into the sparkling waters and transform to a fish. But, great gods alive and dead, your nemesis changes to an otter and dives into after you. Eek! Upwards you look in your desperation! You leap from the waters, a mighty leap, and transform to a tiny bird of the air. Now perhaps you'll be safe, you think, as you spread your tiny wings! Oh no! Great Caesar's Ghost, I'm aghast! The demon changes to a hawk and comes in pursuit. Yikes and double yikes! The jig is up, little airhead types!
No! Not yet! You have another trick still in your Gemini purse! You spy grain scattered on the ground and you transform to a tiny grain of wheat! Oh gods, I'm weak at the knees with the insane futility of it all for your demonic pursuer transforms to a great black hen and gobbles you up. Aargh! You're in the belly of a demon. Of course, this takes place under a raft of ghastly planets, farting in the cosmic winds. Lugubrious Saturn goes backwards. Marauding Mars enters Scorpio and the New Moon comes in the dread sign of the anus. Vamping Venus ruts in the heavenly gutters with cranky Chiron and miserable Saturn. Mischievous Mercury conjoins with underworld Pluto while the great Sol Invicti enters Sagittarius and vamping Venus moves into slithering Scorpio. Sigh!
That is a quick recap of the astrological piffle. It may be matched with the rest of the piffle for those interested or awake. Now, for the stunning climax! By a magical process known only to Hell and demons, having been eaten by Odiferous Pigswill, you become a child in her/his womb (matters of gender are of little concern to demonic types). By the Full Moon in your idiot sign (a mercifully brief period, given how long this has gone on so far), you are reborn a full grown adult (or as close to such as you will ever be). You quickly become the most famous transvestite entertainer in the world, which you already were.
The moral of this fable is thus that all your efforts to escape life in Hell were useless as Hell is the benighted universe ruled by insane gods in which you already dwell. Thus, as marauding Mars and vamping Venus in odious Scorpio and your solar sixth house conjoin in unseemly fashion and ravish nasty Neptune, you get back to the daily run of business. In this, of course, you burn the candle at both ends, bat for whichever side suits you, scheme to get money, have a stream of work-related affairs and spend your time being feckless, faithless and useless. Nothing changes, does it! See you next month, darling Gemini twits! Ta! Ta!
|
|
