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    Click for Last Month  The Awful Ambiguities of August 2006  Click for Next Month
    Pisces Hola, my tear-stained wretches! Welcome to the month of awful August and the vile and bitter prognostications that pertain thereto. Last time we left, you were painted all in gold, in a golden room, surrounded by golden angels that adored you. Ye gods and little fishes! It sounds like a situation tailored to pander to the wealth of gibbering neuroses you carry in your quivering bosom and erratic mind. Will you flourish at the golden touch? Or will you witter and twitter your way into the predictable tearful depressions, misery and tear-stained failure?

    Let us raise the dread cup, drink the draught and so discover! Grim Saturn gropes idiot Uranus and you find yourself somewhat restricted in your movement once again as the angels press in close about you as the gold paint stiffens on your body. A moment of cosmic claustrophobia disturbs the tranquil ecstasy of the angelic encounter but then passes just as quickly. And, as marauding Mars assails cranky Chiron in a nastily erect state, the angelic ones begin to explore the contours of your private parts, causing you to forget your troubles. As you remember from childhood religious instruction that angels have no sex organs, you're pleased to realize you're amongst beings that seek nothing for themselves and are only intent upon your pleasure, a remarkable reversal of the usual condition. But again, as grim Saturn grasps the great Sol Invicti in a paralyzing embrace, you're find you're pressed so close, you're unable to move, feeling you must soon drown in this crush of angelic bliss.

    And, by my sainted aunt, that's exactly what occurs as a ghastly Full Moon in idiot Aquarius and your solar twelfth house (eek) glares with chill necrotic brilliance down upon a naughty world. Great chasubles and holy objects, little piscine types! It's suddenly as if you're swimming in a sea of ecstasy but caught by a chill undertow of rising panic. You surrender to the orgiastic crush of angelic fervour as they discover responses in parts of your body that you didn't even realize existed. Ghastly planets in lackwit Leo meet with thresh and flail the attack of nasty planets in idiot Aquarius. With Mercury in your solar sixth house, you now recite the 'three times' tables, a practice you engage in under severe stress. But, good grief and ghastly blaring trumpets, as the busy messenger stops to grope grim Saturn, you realize you cannot go past the number nine. In the state of dazed, ecstatic confusion to which you've been reduced, you realize this is the exact number of the orders of angelic beings. Eek! How mystical!

    And then, my teeny weenie twits, the benighted universe seems to turn upon its ear! Aargh! It's the great Sol Invicti rolling drunkenly into anal Virgo and bringing a New Moon in that sign! You submerge into the sea of angelic beings and are subsumed into their very substance.

    By all the gods alive and dead, do you realize what this means, little ninnies! No! I thought not! It means that you are losing your old identity and becoming an angel! How brilliant! It's what you've always wanted! But what's this! Why it's a tiny angelic being, armed with a golden pen (sigh) and a pretty purple notebook. He comes to you and asks a question as mischievous Mercury gropes a gruesome path into anal Virgo.

    And what is the question? It seems he wishes to know what order of angels you wish to join. From somewhere in the currents of your ecstasy, the undertow of panic grips first one foot (your sensitive area) and then the other. You're going to have to make a decision! Even here, in the grip of the angels and on the threshold of paradise, wittering indecision takes its chill hold upon your bones.

    There are nine orders of angels, a fact you've established through your remarkable facility with the 'three times' tables. They are, in order as recited by the angel with the pen, Seraphim, Cherubim, Thrones, Dominions, Virtues, Powers, Principalities, Archangels and Angels. Kindly consider the options and make a choice. An answer is expected upon my return next month. And, should you give way to wittering indecision, Heaven will close its doors instanter, just in case you need anything further to worry about. Ruminate upon this crucial choice but for the nonce, ave atque vale, my snivelling tear-stained wretches!

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