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 Asperitus Casting Runes... |
Great barrels of blithering balderdash, it's you, my tiny whining twits! Last time we left, you were falling in love with a wretched business rival that you successfully enslaved.
By my sainted aunt, how can that be? For a start, you have no feelings in you at all, only an excess of nerve endings! Nonetheless and not to be deterred, we shall explore the mystery of this and other things as we serve up the dread cup for you to drink. It's vile and bitter prognostications all round, my paltry specimens. Of course, you will note that I am yet again late with the forecast. I did try to get up early and get it all done but the rest of the ghastly signs drank me dry, so I collapsed into merciful unconsciousness and was born back to the 'all white' boudoir, the little brown bottle and the lovely silver tube. As you may realize from my lengthy absence, I enjoyed that far more than I do the prospect of returning here. Yet here I am and the bounden duties that lie before each of us we must perforce perform! Attend me, wretched loonies! I shall assail you with a brief hindcast (eek) then assault you with an unrelenting forecast of the trail of heartache and sorrow that lies before you! I am Asperitus, terrible to behold but amusing to read if you find the suffering of others a suitable subject for humour! The month of jaded June began with a ghastly Full Moon in idiotic Sagittarius. Thus were you overwhelmed by the attentions of your erstwhile rival that first became a slave then turned into the object of your unrestrained desire. As vamping Venus sleazed her way to lackwit Leo, you pranced about the place in garish coloured outfits, talking and gesticulating in that overly dramatic manner you incline to. You doubtless also committed a variety of traffic violations, the worst of which will be the tasteless colour scheme of your vehicle. Then, by my sainted aunt, a ghastly thing occurred, just as the great Sol Invicti sideswiped Uranus, idiot god, for a bit of rumpy-pumpy! You suddenly found you were taking orders from this quondam slave, as though your roles had mysteriously reversed. Yet the eyes of love with which you looked upon the creature made it all seem misty and uncertain. Has the slave gained control of the master? You dithered, wondered and wittered, yet each time you tried to speak up or raise questions on this role rollover, the creature sent you on a new mission or errand, seemingly of import yet actually of no account at all. Ye gods and little fishes, my tiny turnips! Is advantage being taken of you? Are you being used, as you yourself have used others so many before times before, cursed as you are by a poor attention span and a low boredom threshold? Great barking bandicoots, what's all this ruckus now? Gadzooks! It's a New Moon in your appalling sign. Thus, you have a shift in mind and heart. You decide to set all these concerns aside and be an obedient little twit, doing nice things for all and being obliging to your new partner. You even dress in less appalling clothes, have your hair cut properly, tidy your room and say 'yes' or 'no' without argument. Odds bodkins! However, this balderdash is followed instanter by the turning of mischievous Mercury into perverse reverse. By all the giggling gods and farting demons (and there are quite a few of those), we return to the present as the busybody messenger goes backwards! Egad! This is bad for you, my tiny twits, especially where the fiscals are concerned, for the perverted little planet performs this ghastly 'turn tail' business in slimy Cancer and your solar second house of money. Suddenly, you're being asked for money, spending money and paying stacks of outstanding bills that are presented to your desk each morning. And then the situation becomes even worse as the great Sol Invicti grinds and clatters his drunken way into the nasty sign of the Crab, visiting another Solstice on an overburdened world. Persons sit around, talking about money (eek). Family members ring to criticize your economic management (ugh). You are forced to do accounts and add figures until you're screaming for triple lattes just to get through the day (aargh). But that is not the end of this appalling business for marauding Mars then bashes his way into cloddish Taurus and your solar twelfth house. Lawks a mercy! How can there it be that there is so much suffering in the world! Nonetheless, it appears there is, at least as far as you are concerned. Oh well! How sad! Never mind! That's life in a benighted universe ruled by insane gods! Crude forces now muster against you. Angry males rail at you or hurl objects blunt or sharp from a distance. Persons bully you in butcher shops and badger you in breweries and hostelries. Bullock carts drive at you on the road and low types bark roughly at you as you pass them on street corners. Business is rife with infuriating delays, obstinate foreign officials and nasty traffic snarls, just as gloomy Saturn clamps the too too soft flesh of narcotic Neptune between his knobbly knees. Demands for money reach an orchestral crescendo and finally your new lover drugs you during sex then imprisons you in the cellar of your home, just as a second Full Moon comes, this one in gloomy Capricorn. You're barely conscious (mercifully), chained and in the dark! What in the name of all unholy things is going to happen to you, my tiny brainless twerps? And what evil plan does this slave turned master have in store for you? You'll have to click here next time and see. In the meantime, hail and farewell, my drooling ninnies! |
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