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Asperitus Casting Runes...
Great Heavens and dancing elephants! It's time to serve up the vile and bitter dish again, my loathsome pussy things! Especially for you! It's offensive October and the prognostications are set to unravel, as would the unruly locks of your mighty mane without that unspeakably expensive hair gel you use. Gods, they are vile, these prognostications! And, by my little brown bottle, they're bitter!
So shall I scour the skin from the fragile body of your ego as I spray you with the rantings of the insane gods as they bind your idiot selves to the doom of life in this benighted world! Last time you were to speak in your defence in court, thus clearing your good name, a name that had been sullied by what you believed to be false accusations but of course are charges everyone else knows to be true. You have the power, little pussy folk but will it serve you now?
Let us see! Marauding Mars clashes with idiot Uranus and, as you open your mouth to speak, you're told by a person of the bailiff persuasion to be quiet as you're only being arraigned and there's no need to say anything. You will appear for trial at a nominated date and the court would be entirely grateful if you would shut up till then. Eek! How rude and insensitive! You're formally charged, your trial date is set and, before you can say 'styling mousse', you're whisked away to the bowels of prison and confined with unkempt persons of low moral character, unspeakable dress and bad hair. Clearly these ruffians are fashion criminals. With vamping Venus now in Virgo, said persons begin to push and shove you, demanding money. Unfortunate planets hover in nasty aspect and the seething mass of this criminal element asks insulting questions and makes improper sexual suggestions.
Egad! Your hair immediately goes limp with the stress and alarming creases appear in your clothing. And, great gods alive and dead, you have neither hair product nor an iron about your person! Aargh! What will you do? You appeal to prison authorities but, as the New Moon comes in loathsome Libra, bringing a Solar Eclipse to your third house, they refuse your petition. You plead for family members to visit and bring you succour as mischievous Mercury clashes with miserable Saturn. However, as the messenger moves to morbid Scorpio, they all refuse, apart from one odious sibling who only wishes to know whether she/he is remembered in your will as the likelihood of your death in prison is statistically quite high according to a recent study.
You fly screaming to your cell, distressing your tresses further and creating unfortunate perspiration stains in your armpits. And what's worse, your favoured anti-perspirant, the one you import from France, languishes on a bathroom shelf at home. Ye gods, suffering pussies! What will you do?
Inspiration strikes! You petition Amnesty International on your own behalf, writing a lengthy and irritating tract on your state as a prisoner of conscience. Alas! The Full Moon comes in cloddish Taurus, bringing a Lunar Eclipse to your solar tenth house and the reply you receive, whilst unprintable in the main, conveys a pervasive sense of disinterest in your fate. You wander the corridors of the house of detention. Marauding Mars clashes with cranky Chiron and elderly felons and prison guards assail you constantly by hitting your hair with dampened rags and making sexually suggestive movements with their hips.
All seems lost, does it not, my tiny and miserable nitwits! You are now tarred with the same brush as has been used on these misbegotten persons of ill-repute. But then, the jails of this world are full of innocent pussies, are they not!
But what's this! By my little brown bottle, it's a ray of sunshine on an otherwise rainy afternoon! Vamping Venus grinds her lustful things into decadent Libra and you are told you have a visitor waiting. You rush to find who it is that has come, bringing succour. You enter the visitor's room but stand transfixed by a vision of human beauty such as you have never yet beheld outside the mirror. It's Halloween, my little chumps! Is this a demon or one divine come to visit? The beauteous one stands, smiles dazzlingly and extends a firm but well-shaped and manicured hand. This may be your salvation, little pussies! But, as I'm feeling rather ill and must rest, you will have to return here next month and see just what transpires. Until then! Farewell!
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