- Hooray to you, my virginal ninnies! Last time we left, you were a creature of the wild, a praeternatural being in fact. Together with Pinkie, Perky and a recent victim of your nocturnal lupine activities, you were a werewolf, wild and true, a danger to all morally decent folk who prowl the woods at night. Though what excuse morally decent folk would have for prowling in the woods at night is another question altogether. They may be up to nefarious activities and thus would deserve the sticky end that came their way.
Gods, I'm so easily distracted. Let us go back to the task at hand. And that task is, of course, the vile and bitter prognostications for manic March. Attend me now for these are they, as it were! Mischievous Mercury engenders yet another cycle of odious activity by wrestling with dark Pluto, god of the underworld, and you find yourself dreaming, my bothersome trollops. In fact, you're werewolf dreaming! This is a special kind of spiritual dreaming that involves a spirit animal and is sold as a package for a fortune in 'new age' workshops across the globe. Except that you're getting it for free! There's a definite economy there, is there not! And, as the money has now run out, due to the burning of the Luddite caravan that happened so many months ago that I can barely remember if I wrote it or just thought about writing it. Perhaps you could, in an idle moment, check back and see if this is so. I don't get paid much for writing this drivel but I would certainly have to be paid a fortune to read it.
There I go, getting distracted and wandering off the topic again. To continue, the dreams that you have are about talking to a gathered enclave of werewolves which, apart from the smell, is a generally more convivial group to address than a gathering of humans, a species with which you have so little in common, you sometimes wonder why you're here. This concern is shared by others than yourselves, I hope you realize.
As a raft of ghastly planets farts in the cosmic winds, you decide that you will run 'werewolf dreaming' workshops here, in your mountain retreat. You do so, not only to up the content of the coffers but also because, if you're going to convert the entire world into werewolves over time, they may as well get used to it now. Come the New Moon in snivelling Pisces when the great Sol Invicti and vamping Venus both clash with Pluto, dark god of the underworld, you set the wheels in motion and advertise a 'home teaching' course in the art of werewolf dreaming, all in a fabulous mountain setting.
But what's this? Great thundering elephant droppings! It's the great Sol Invicti, crashing his way into arrogant Aries and bringing the shadow of another odious Equinox upon a naughty world. And, in addition to that grievous indignity, marauding Mars enters Aquarius, sign of the idiot god, and mischievous Mercury turns retrograde in Aries and your solar eighth house (eek). Suddenly, you realize that you have organized the first workshop right on the Full Moon in loathsome Libra.
Egad, it's time for fur, sharp teeth and nasty biting activities! And you're fully booked, as people with more money than sense never seem to be in short supply. You stand there, Pinkie, Perky and your werewolf consort by your side, looking out over the sea of idiotically expectant faces, knowing that at least four of them will return not as they arrived. What will you do?
By my little brown bottle, I'm feeling tired now and must rest. Medic, bring my silver tube. I'll see you here next time and we shall see if we can wind this grinding and inane farce to something of a conclusion before someone (namely me) dies of boredom. Ave, my tiny virgin things!