Ave, my tiny insectoid things! You have to be cruel to be kind is the motto of persons native to your sign, I think. Or perhaps it's that you have to be cruel to be cruel. Possibly, it's 'you have to be crueller to be cruel'. Or, it may be 'you have to be crueller to be cruellest'! I can never remember. Sigh! So many mysteries to contemplate! And, gods! So much time to contemplate them in, with the dearth of useful occupation in a benighted universe ruled by insane gods. Sigh again!
Oh well! I suppose I'd better get on with it then, before I forget why I'm here and wander off to find my little brown bottle and silver tube. I am informed by the staff in Heaven that it is the month of awful August. Dear me! It seems like only last year that we had one of those. They come around so quickly, don't they! Like the birthdays of odious relatives and the children of disgusting neighbours. Ah me! Alas! Anyway, the occasion of its arrival (awful August, in case you'd forgotten) occasions the need for a dose of prognostication, vile and bitter, to be delivered by myself, Asperitus, the bard of bafflement, the awful auspex, the....et cetera et cetera! In which case, we'd best get on with it as I do have other things to do, you know! Hmm! I can't think precisely what they are at the moment but, no doubt, someone here in Heaven will soon see fit to remind me of my duties.
In the meantime, open wide your mandibles, tiny rulers of the anus! And I shall deliver the dose. With mischievous Mercury groping narcotic Neptune, you have recently put paid to the thrust of accusations delivered against you as you wandered in Hell. These came from embittered relatives, friends, lovers, business associates (all from department ex) and also other assorted nondescripts that you may have murdered or betrayed at one time or another but really they did nothing whatsoever make it worth your while recalling them. In fact, my tiny arachnids, you have conducted yourself with such infernal distinction that the god of the underworld, Pluto himself, has come to call. Eek!
As cranky Chiron has retreated to Capricorn, leaving behind for a time the volcanic terrain of lunatic Aquarius and your solar fourth house, you no longer feel the lash of fear and self-doubt that had originally split you in two and driven you on a journey down the Styx. Thus, come the New Moon in lackwit Leo, you find yourself sitting with the dark god of Hell, exchanging polite converse, outrageous lies and the occasional merry jest while Charon the boatmen serves such delicacies as the infernal lord approves of. But don't forget the ancient proverb, my fiendish articles!
'Who sups with the devil should bring a long spoon'! Ghastly things are at work in the cosmos, you see! Though the devil provides sex-slaves to while away the hours (vamping Venus clashing with dark Pluto) and extinguishes the worthless life of the odd underling or two in an entertaining pyrotechnic display (marauding Mars groping the mischievous Mercury), jolly Jupiter secretly enters into disgusting congress with the loony South Node.
Gadzooks, my brainless turnips! Do you know what this means? Of course you don't! But I do! It means ghastly karma, accumulated in other lives of depravity and recklessness is set to unleash itself in your current life. Eek! Oh well! How sad! Never mind!
Tragically, you remain unaware of these grim forebodings. And, as vamping Venus slithers into decadent Libra while the perverse reverse messenger finally moves forward, you strike a deal with the devil. It seems the dark lord feels his interests are not sufficiently represented in the earthly domain. Egad! And I thought he was doing rather well. It just goes to show the gods are never satisfied, no matter how much they have or how many people they control!
Anyway, it seems he is prepared to return you to the earthly realm to there promote the devil's work by pursuing your role as the master mesmer, Dr. Caligari. Rewards of the opulence expected in a deal with the devil are offered. A Full Moon comes in lunatic Aquarius and you accept. As the great Sol Invicti grinds his way into anal Virgo (eek), you suddenly awake back on earth, rise from your bed of woe, ready to resume a career as a reality tv star and celebrity torturer.
By all the gods, little stings-in-the-tail! It's miraculous! Infernally so! It's as though no time at all has passed as you sojourned in Hell! Marauding Mars gropes the private parts of mischievous Mercury and narcotic Neptune as you prepare the instruments of torture that will attend to the private parts of the poor fools voted onto the Cabinet of Dr. Caligari! Vamping Venus ruts in the gutters of Heaven with Uranus, the idiot god, and there you are, choosing the next helpless victim in your new employ as a servant to the Prince of Darkness! This will be a contract writ in blood, will it not! But whose blood will it be, my addlepate misfits? Click here next time and see. In the meantime, ave atque vale, gruesome rulers of the anus!