Odds bodkins, my little virginal extractions! Having gathered your nuts in malevolent May, are you prepared for the crack up of jaded June? Attend to me, my carping loonies! It is I, Asperitus, laggard as usual but loaded to the gills with bile and venom. I proffer the cup of damnable drink. Cry 'dammit' then drink it!
Last time we left, you had fled from troubled days and were living a secret life in a forested retreat where you posed by day as an ordinary villager yet practised dark and secret magic in the confines of an orderly, well-scrubbed home where surfaces shine like the Sun (aargh) and hospital corners are the boudoir vogue (ugh). What dark and secret doings will be done in the Virgin's domicile despite this penchant for cleanliness? Why, let us now prognosticate in a vile and bitter manner and so discover.
No doubt, you will have looked at your calendar by now, noticing that a good deal of the month has expired. I did make an effort to begin on time. However, the task of attending to the bulk of the other idiots was too much for me and I was rushed back to bed. An emergency swig from the little brown bottle, a top up from the silver tube and a bout of medicated sleep aided me in overcoming the creeping ennui that, as you well know, is the malady from which I suffer. Thus, we shall begin with the traditional hindcast.
The Full Moon in addlepate Sagittarius was first cab off the rank for jaded June. Thus, there was excitement with foreigners, babbling in a foreign tongue, a sumptuous repast, an academic guest and excessive spending on household items. As there was also gruesome groping with the Loony Nodes, absent friends, bitter disappointments and painful separations from family all took a part in proceedings. You also kidnapped a foreign traveller in preparation for a fell and nasty rite you're set to conduct at the Solstice. Vamping Venus lustfully leered her way to lackwit Leo and you withdrew from the world of light to engage in secret rumpy-pumpy and shenanigans, committing ghastly fornication with persons of foreign extraction (eek) or academic persuasion. From there, it was just one hideous thing after another as the great Sol Invicti rogered the living daylights out of Uranus, idiot god. Thus, did a talkative person of minor authority come to your door, knocking vigorously (as you had been doing) and seeking you with regard to past troubles. However, thinking quickly, you rendered the impudent fellow unconscious and imprisoned him in a dark cellar, alongside the already captured backpacker who turned out to be a Swede with a bent for reciting the lyrics from Abba Gold whilst rambling in the forest. There will be no loss to world if you disembowel either of these imbecile creatures in an arcane magical ceremony!
For you see, my tiny turnips, it is now that we return to the present, as a hideous New Moon comes in supple but perverted Gemini whilst mischievous Mercury moves backwards in a provocative manner. Thus, your true intent is revealed! Grim and wrinkly Saturn gropes his way through your solar twelfth house and you have secretly resolved to become a sorcerer of power and learning. In this guise and manner, you are presently founding a cult to practise and teach the old ways of the craft and the land. In a set of ghastly but nonetheless clean and hygienic magical rites, you will give back to the earth the lifeblood taken from her by the violations of an errant human species. You will be a witch and a 'mother' to the land wherein you dwell. Egad! How supernatural! Yet how true to the myths of harvest that gave life to your appalling sign!
Thus does a dark train of friends, acolytes and neophytes swell and grow on Solstice Eve, as shadowy figures sneak to the back door, one by one, each rapping an occult tattoo to beg entrance to your secret den. Once gathered, the enclave sings ancient songs (Mercury retrograde in slimy Cancer)! You welcome the invisible spirits of the departed (Uranus, idiot god, in reverse in tear-stained Pisces)! You throw aside your garb (eek), daub your flesh (ugh) and prance in a ritualistic manner (aargh), flaunting your naked lust in an oaken grove (marauding Mars in cloddish Taurus)! Thus, all manner of sylvan concupiscence unfolds as events move beyond sane description and into realms of unspeakable corruption.
Great diabolical debaucheries, what's this! By my sainted aunt (may the saints protect her), as grim Saturn wraps his knobbly knees about the too too soft flesh of narcotic Neptune, a demonic form manifests in your midst, no doubt as a direct result of the dark enclave and eldritch chanting! Gadzooks! My virginal nitwits, what mighty powers have you unleashed with your occult experiments and insidious investigations? Is it Astaroth, Asmodeus or Abaddon that is come? It could be Belial, Belcher or Beelzebub, the lord of the flies! Perhaps it's Focalor the ship-wrecker, Furcas the pyromancer or, worse yet, malodorous Fartipants, the dread exhaler! Mayhap it's Mammon, Moloch, Mephistopheles or is it Lucifer, the lord of light turned bad, that is the guest, unexpected yet invited to the secret Sabbat in the sticks! Whichever demon is come, it's too late to nick off and look it up on the web for the horned creature hovers overhead in a slather of scorching fire that will save on lawn mowing for months to come! The branches of the trees begin to char and roast acorns are on the menu for supper. But what will be the entrée? A second Full Moon comes, this one in gloomy Capricorn, and thus does the demon point a demonic finger at you, bellowing that, for the sacrifice to begin, you must first be the lover of this messenger from Hell, for this is the Great Rite!
Odds bodkins, little marsupial twits! Hell has chosen you! How carnal and yet how metaphysical! But what will you do? Will you take the demon fire into your arms? Or will you run and fetch a pail of water and a damp cloth to cool this blast of infernal ardour? Click here next time and read a further exciting chapter of this unmitigated drivel entitled VIRGIN ON THE ALTAR! Ave, surface-wiping ninnies!
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