Having my way with Ulysses

Where the statue of the fish used to be.

Ask them whether on reflection they could see anything amusing in all that foul mouthed, foul minded derision and obscenity. To you, possibly it may appeal as art; you are probably (you see I don't know you) a young barbarian beglamoured by the excitements and enthusiasms that art stirs up in passionate material; but to me it is all hideously real.

Gala Event at Holy Mother Public Relations had us Praying for the End of Time.
by St. Francis DeSales

To mark the end of the thirteenth Ba’k’tun Holy Mother Public Relations Inc. hosted their first annual End of Existence Gala in the circular Star and Garter Ballroom: the dazzling center found everywhere in the Holy Mother PR Empyrean building whose circumference appears to be nowhere and why am I telling you about the room? I hate duplicity as I hate death, so I’m talking about crap nobody cares about because frankly I want to bury my real feelings about this shitshow of an event somewhere after the first couple of lines to ensure that our Holy Blessed and Most Exalted Mother Mary will have passed out before she gets to the sentence where I call her the booze soaked love child of Courtney Love and a pile of vomit. There, I said it. As I have prior experience covering the various travesties parties Holy Mother PR has thrown in the past to provide Mary with fresh drinking companions celebrate Mary’s glory I knew to race past the red carpet and find Her Shitfacedness our Holy Lush before she passes out in the men’s urinals. A pity too as I had only a glance at Jesus gingerly exiting his limo with his babyclothes up to one side. I was dying to find out was he circumcised but I had bigger fish to fry as apparently did the “ladies” of  the Tranquila Convent who catered this stinker of a party with what can only be an ironically inspired all seafood menu. Ghastly. Everything fried in butter: they love buttering themselves in and out, though to their credit they served a potent egg nog which Sister Mary Peter described as eggs beaten up with marsala. One taste of that and I knew why I was far too late to interview Mary. Though, with all the optimism of a rookie I pressed on, seeking her out in all her usual puking places: closets and behind statues, but I could not find Her Drunkenness anywhere and I stopped looking when I saw the out of order sign on the men’s lavatory door.  Alas, Mary was already face down in a pool of her own vomit and piss. I’d say they ought to dedicate the urinals in Her Holy Name but in that case they’d probably throw another one of these disastrous events to mark the occasion and I’d have to cover it.  I was late for Mary but I found myself just in time and unfortunately perfectly placed for the unveiling of Negative Destiny by new sculptor Martha. While some might try to make a cat cleanly by rubbing its nose in its own filth, Martha has tried the same treatment on The Annunciation, and Negative Destiny comes off as a rather fleshy cross between The Annunciation and The Incarnation. But with more slime. This mixed media piece is curious the way it’s made and I asked Martha what are all those veins and things but I won’t reveal her answer. Trust me, it is better not to know. Martha’s sculpture managed to renew my faith in the end of the world, and indeed to wish it had come before Martha had ever been born. I don’t want to say that it is bad, not at all. It succeeds gloriously in finding new ways to suck. O lord I wanted to shout out all sorts of things fuck or shit or anything at all just to distract myself and indeed to save some of the others: anything to tear my ruined eyes from that ugly quivering disgusting thing placed up there like any other statue in a museum, and the crap sculpture she had just unveiled. Martha ought to take a good look at herself but a mirror never gives you the expression. My advice to you Martha: check herself into the Tranquilla convent, they’ll take anybody.

The problem of the sacerdotal integrity of Jesus circumcised.

Reach down. A lil mo. So. Draw back your glave. Hot and hairy, hugon, is your hand! Here's where the falskin begins. Smoos as an infams.Holy Mother Public Relations, Inc.
10th Heaven, Empyrean
Meeting Minutes

Date: November 29th
Time: 2:28 am
Location: 10th Heaven Empyrean building: Mary’s office. Also the hallway outside of Mary’s office between her office and the toilet.
Purpose: Crisis mode. Damage control. Situation analysis. Family meeting.


Attendees:
Holy Mary: Mother of God, Mother of Christ, Mother of the Church, Mother of divine grace, Mother most amiable, Mother most admirable, Mother of good counsel, Mother of our Creator, Mother of our Savior, Virgin most merciful, Mirror of justice, Cause of our joy, Refuge of sinners, Comforter of the afflicted, Queen of Confessors, Queen of the family, Queen of Peace, and Queen most forgiving. Also Jesus, Martha, and Joseph.

Agenda:

1. Damage control full crisis mode.

2. Find out if what we have here is an actual crisis or just a situation we can handle like others we no longer speak of (e.g.: Lost track of Jesus’ physical location when he was twelve years old. Got him back, though. Eventually. Also: virginity).

Discussion:

1. Jesus stated that although Martha lives here now, does she have to be here for this? Martha pointed out that somebody has to hold back Mary’s hair when she pukes, which could be any time now. Both then were silent, contemplating the other in both mirrors of the reciprocal flesh of theirhisnothers fellowfaces. Jesus welcomed Martha to stay and help in whatever capacity she likes.

2. Mary says we stole the damn thing a long time ago. Is there somewhere she can lie down or something? Jesus said it was stolen again. Mary wants to know why Jesus didn’t just get rid of the damn thing, it was only a bit of dried prune under all that crystal and gold. Jesus said he thought it was pretty. It reminds him of the ultimate mortality of fruit.

3. Topic: if people discover that the divine prepuce, the carnal bridal ring of the holy Roman catholic apostolic church, conserved in Calcata Rome until we stole it, that the divine shrunken dried up scrap we shoved into that little jar is actually made from an old plum and is not the foreskin of an eight day old boy, we might be facing a game changing crisis of faith we haven’t seen since the Reformation. Ideas floated: steal it back; uphold the excommunication of anybody who speaks of (and we should add onto that: even thinks about) the holy foreskin; immediate circumcision of Jesus and let’s get a new little jar to put it in. The thieves might have the fake, but we can produce the real thing whenever we like. Jesus says no we cannot produce the real thing whenever we like.

4. Mary can’t remember who was the mohel who circumcised Jesus? Maybe we should call him in here. Joseph suggests if Mary wasn’t so obliterated drunk right now she’d remember. And if she didn’t insist on hiring her drinking buddies for everything then maybe we would have had a decent mohel who would have finished the job in the first place. Somebody union even. Martha suggested Joseph focus on his duties. Jesus considered turning Mary’s water into wine.

5. Martha wants to know how it is nobody noticed that Jesus was never circumcised. Joseph said who looked? They never had to change his diapers. He was the perfect baby. So cute too. Quiet. Slept through the night. A good eater. Never cried. Took care of himself, really. Terrible two’s were a holy bitch, but he was such a perfect baby.

Action Items:

1. Somebody make coffee. We need Mary a bit closer to sober for this. Martha? Joseph to make coffee.

2. Martha suggested we not turn this thing into a bigger crisis than is necessary. We must analyze the situation as it evolves and we absolutely cannot be the first ones to signal that we think this is a crisis. It might not be a crisis, just a situation. We cannot look like we are on the defensive in any way. Perhaps we should perform the circumcision ourselves? Mohelim can’t keep secrets. Jesus to clean spot on floor where he just vomited. Also, Mary could use a clean up while you are at it.

3. Martha suggested we never lie to the public about this. We can, however, consider honest misstatements. For example, we might tell everybody that the real foreskin ascended bodily to heaven, but got stuck around Saturn on the way. Joseph to compile a list from Martha’s dictation of possible honest misstatements to be used as talking points. Joseph will check Mary’s schedule and compile a list of possible public appearances she can make on Jesus’ behalf: we think Mary will want herself out front on this so the kid won’t screw it up. Martha to monitor Mary’s fitness for public events as her current ability to get her shit together seems dubious.

4. Jesus to get immediate circumcision so we can produce physical proof if necessary. Jesus first to research the problems of irritability, tumescence, rigidity, reactivity, dimension, sanitariness, pilosity, and degree of severity of ongoing crisis (possibly just a situation and not a crisis) before anybody even thinks of coming at him with a knife.

5. Martha to sharpen a knife.

6. Joseph to get Matthew in here for consultation re: financial impact of crisis. Possibly still just a situation and not yet a crisis. And for Christ’s sake, let’s keep the stockholders in the dark as long as we can. Joseph to contact Thomas Moore’s assistant re: Moore’s schedule asap. We need a lawyer on this.

7. We think Mary said we must be the ones in constant control of the flow and formulation of public opinion. Hard to understand her from the toilet with all that hair in her face. Maybe nobody will care that the relic was never real. Get some people on all the other major relics, can’t have people opening those boxes too: Christ knows what they might find. Joseph to deploy guardian angels to Thomas Aquinas’ skull , Augustine’s elbow, all of the true crosses, and the piece of Jesus’ foreskin in Coulombs Abbey, France. Tell them to take their flaming swords with them.

8. Martha suggested we remain calm. These things sometimes burn out faster than shooting stars.

Minutes typed by: Joseph
Approved by: Martha

 
 
 

Because he had forgotten and because he remembered that he had reminded himself twice not to forget.

The calendar is intolerable to all wisdom, the horror of all astronomy, and a laughingstock from a mathematician's point of view. 2:01 am

I have devised a stratagem. I cannot wait to tell you because it will be our entry key to a great high mystery the secret of which is found in, oh but shall I jump right in and tell you? To tell or not to tell. Oh where to begin. I must do this properly as my secret is so momentous, so illuminating. Now please quiet down, quiet down. Oh where to begin. Today, on this historic occasion, the feast day of dear Saint Martin I, pope and martyr and sufferer of dysentery (hang in there Marty!) this feast day of Saint Nilus the Elder not the younger who after the birth of his children desperately needed alone time and hey haven’t we all been there, on this feast day of Saint Emilian Cucullatus another of your hermit types, this glorious feast day of Saint Machar Irish emigree to Scotland, so there’s that then, so many memories, so many memories, and let me see, can’t forget old Saint Cunibert today on his feast day who did something or other I cannot recall, and this is feast day of Saint Cumian the Tall good god, how many saints are there? Today, as I said historic occasion, this grand feast day of Saint Livinus head cut off by somebody from the opposite camp, Saint Liafwine, English from Ripon, declared all gods dead but his, and let us not forget Saint Benedict’s day today, murdered by thieves. What’s a monk going to have that thieves want? To murder or not to murder? To steal or not to steal? Today is the feast day also of Saint Anastasius, or is it Astrik? Who remembers? And don’t forget dear Saint Rainerius of Arezzo, what a miracle worker he turned out to be. Today is also St John Della Pace’s feast day, a married hermit somehow, and the feast day of Saint Gabriel of Ancona who had a glorious account of his life drawn up but nobody can remember where to find it. Have you seen it? To look or not to look. And of course this is the feast day of Saint L. Ron Hubbard of the Church of the SubGenius.

Oh I have something big to announce. As we gather here on this the twelfth day of November of the year two thousand and twelve of the common era in the Gregorian calendar counting from the year zero, and for the Julians among us who possess quite a fine calendrical system despite its lacking a year zero we gather here on this the thirtieth day of October in the year two thousand and twelve on a day beginning at midnight. For you astronomers today’s Julian day is 2456243.5 and for you amateur astronomers it is 56243. You both get to start your day at the crack of noon, so that’s quite nice for you then. Ah, sholem aleykhem it is so good to see you all here this twenty seventh day of Heshvan Five thousand seven hundred and seventy three. Mazol tov on that lunar accuracy. To speak of the sun or to speak not of the sun? If you want to be precise, solarly speaking, then we gather here today on this fine Doshanbeh, this glorious twenty second day of Aban of the year one thousand three hundred and ninety one of the Persian calendar but no matter, no matter. Not when This is long count 12.19.19.16.1 1 Calli 1 Tecpatl 4 Cipactli Meztli 18 Cuauhuitlehua. Oh wait, my mistake. That’s Aztec! The Mayans have it as long count 12.19.19.16.1 4 Ceh 4 Imix! Whew! For a minute there things looked a little improved, at least for those of you linearists trying to square the Mayan calendar’s circle. Oh dear, I’ve offended some of you. Please don’t leave. Oh dear. Well, now, there are a few seats for those of you standing in the back! So there’s that then. Yes, where were we. To announce or not to announce? Today, friends we gather here on this Bahá’í Era Day 61598 Perfection, the third day of the week Asthma  (Names,9) of Qudrat (Power) 169BE, 169/13/9 and the tenth Vahid of the first Kull-i-Shay, so Alláh’u’Abhá! and a hearty Assalamu Alilkum Wa Rahmatulah Wa Barakatuh on this Saturday the twenty eighth of Dhu al-Hijjah, 1433 Anno Hegirae. Such a momentous day this fine Sunday November eighth, two thousand and twelve of the International Fixed Calendar; this Monday the twelfth of November 0072 in the year of hafnium in the New Science Calendar. And on this Sunday, Frederic ninth, two hundred and twenty four of the Positivist calendar we gather to hear such a momentous secret I shall tell only to you, on this Sunday of the Yew Moon twenty eighth, of the Moonwise year two thousand and twelve, and a fine Wednesday it is too this 2012 D-54 of the World Season calendar. Did I say Wednesday? I meant Somavara, the twenty first day of Kartika of the year one thousand nine hundred and thirty four of the Indian civil calendar. But for many of you this isn’t a work day, so. No. Today is indeed (to tell or not to tell!) for on this beautiful pre-dawn day one of week forty six of the year two thousand and twelve and day three hundred and seventeen of the same year of the ISO-861 Week and Day and Day of Year Calendar, this Unix time() value 1352678400, this momentous Excel Serial Day number 41225 (39763 for Macintosh), this Sweetmorn day 24 of The Aftermath, YOLD 3178 (augur) of the Discordian calendar, La Prime 1-364-298 of the Galactic Milieu calendar, this Monday Kali 29, 551 (5-0551-11-29) of the Goddess Lunar Calendar and isn’t she looking fine today with that tongue sticking right out there. Yes. Such a good feeling on this, ah, this, ah Onesday, eleven 8, 2012 of the Human calendar, though I’d rather get a good feeling of a little goddess. So difficult to remember. You are devastating. Ah yes. I feel a little sidetracked, a little houri. To remember or not to remember.  Oh my she does look so very blue today this Egyptian Coptic fourth day of Athor, 1729 or is it Hator. Coptic. Ethiopian? Hidar, 4, 2005. Um. What was I saying. To remember or not to remember this Earthday, the third of Aphrodite, 20 of the Millennium Mars Calendar. Aphrodite. Well, now, three’s company. My dear people, gods, goddesses if I can ask you to wait for me in the green room, I regret I must delay my announcement until cycle 78 year 29 (Ren Chen, Dragon) month 9 (Xin Hai, pig or is it Geng Xu? I forget and who cares, two goddesses!) day thirty 4710. Indeed, all things considering, this can wait until The Aftermath 23, CUW of the Jusanotoronian calendar, or rather ruz of Ashtad, mah, Avan 1381 as my dear friend Zarathustra puts it, did you know he invented calendar reckoning? I wonder if Kali knows that? Kali? Aphrodite? Wait for me girls, did you ladies know that today being the

You are the link between nations and generations. Speak, woman, sacred lifegiver!

In fact, under the closed eyes of the inspectors the traits featuring the chiaroscuro coalesce, their contrarieties eliminated. 12:57 am

[St. Barbara and St. Juliana, their heads coalescing, speak explosively.]

St. Barbara: My own father cut off my head!

St. Juliana: Cut off my head!

St: Barbara: For want of more light I made him see red!

St. Juliana: Made him see red!

St. Barbara: Not marry Jesus? I’d rather be dead!

St. Juliana: Rather be dead!

St. Barbara: (But that was before he took me to bed!)

St. Juliana: (He took me to bed!)

The last straw.

Friends, I have forgotten two things. I wish all to know that I do not propose to sell any part of my country, nor will I have the whites cutting our timber along the rivers, more especially the oak. I am particularly fond of the little groves of oak trees. I love to look at them, and feel a reverence for them, because they endure the wintry storms and summer's heat, and not unlike ourselves seem to thrive and flourish by them. One thing more: those forts filled with white soldiers must be abandoned, there is no greater source of trouble and grievance to my people.

12:44 am

Scene: [Tranquilla convent, infirmary. Lizzie Twigg is unconscious and lying on a tinseled oak bed. The shading she has painted with loving pencil on her eyes, bosom, and shame is badly smeared. Sister Mary Peter lifts her from the secondbest bed while St. Agatha straightens the warm impress of her warm form.]

St. Agatha: Don’t jostle her like that.

Sister Mary Peter: I should drop her for what she’s done. She has sinned. We have suffered!

St. Agatha: Sister. Our Sister. Shh! Just look at her. Classic curves: a thing of beauty. Here, put her down on her stomach, we can take the powderpuff to the spot where her back changes name.

Sister Mary Peter:  No, please I beg you. What must my eyes look down on. [Nearly drops Lizzie Twigg but catches her with her leg.]

St. Agatha: Nekum! Remember your wounded knee! Come on, let’s see if she has hair there.

[Sister Mary Peter returns Lizzie Twigg to the bed, facing up.]

Lizzie Twigg: [Talking in her sleep] Where dreamy creamy gull waves o’er the waters dull.

Sister Mary Peter: Oh that’s it. [Gives Lizzie Twigg a hard shove with both hands. She rolls a dummymummy in the sheet off of the bed and onto the floor.

St. Agatha: Mary Peter!

Lizzie Twigg: Bbbbblllllblblblblobschb! What’s happening? I feel like I fell from a cliff!

St. Agatha: You fell out of bed. Sister Mary Peter help her up! [St Agatha rushes to kiss Lizzie Twigg in four places as she crawls jellily forward from under the bed, with dignity].

Lizzie Twigg: [Returning to bed] I’m fine. What happened? Mnemo? I don’t think I’m in full possession of my faculties. I feel like I’ve been run over.

Sister Mary Peter: You were run over, and me too trying to save you. I think I have a concussion.

St. Agatha: Ssh! She is right, our sister. Don’t you remember, dear? You tried to perform a solo ghost dance and then you threw yourself under Jagannath.

Lizzie Twigg: [Covers her face with her hands looking through parting fingers] Oh God. Where’s AE?

Sister Mary Peter: Where’s AE? Sacrilege! Who cares about AE? He’s nothing! What are you doing trying to re-kill yourself over a man? Your crucifix not thick enough? What do you lack within our barbed wire?

St. Agatha: Ssh! Lizzie, you can’t kill yourself again. We immortals have no word for that in our dictionary. I know AE’s return was difficult for you.

Sister Mary Peter: Difficult!

St. Agatha: Ssh, sister yes, it was difficult. Lizzie, you fell 32 feet per second per second for him all over again. But here at Tranquilla we are brides of Christ. You must have no more desire. We are only the ethereal.

Lizzie Twigg: Only ethereal! Then how do you account for that large moist stain on Mary Peter’s robe? And Mother Agatha, I can smell the cloud of stench escaping from your crack.

St. Agatha: [A button pops off of her sackcloth habit; she’s lost a charm] Listen sister, we know where we’d all be if we were only ethereal, but we won’t turn your strength into our weakness. Where do you think you were going to end up, after Jagannath squashed you? Where? Where was that ghost dance going to take you? To Sitting Bull floating in the ether? Rise up all you want, go ahead, but you’ll come back down. You think you were going to ghost dance yourself up to some cloudy waiting lounge, then sit around wondering when the vorex will open under AE’s feet? Circumstances alter cases, have you learned nothing from your time here? Don’t you understand anything? Our convent is built on buffalo holocausts. The skull mountains: we’ve shaped them into cathedrals. You think we don’t bleed? We are the sisters of the last straw and Grandfather Tatanka Iyotanka is our patron saint. [Looking toward Standing Rock] Father I come! Father give us back our arrows! [Looks at Lizzie Twigg with features hardening] You say you are done with AE then you try this? Fool someone else sister, not me.

It was in consequence of a portwine beverage on top of Hennessy’s three star.

Blackness is the beginning of whiteness, and a sign of putrefaction and alteration, and that the body is now penetrated and mortified. From the putrefaction therefore in this water, there first appears blackness, like unto broth wherein some bloody thing is boiled. Secondly, the black earth by continual digestion is whitened, because the soul of the two bodies swims above upon the water, like white cream; and in this only whiteness, all the spirits are so united, that they can never fly one from another.12:26 am

Scene: [In an alchemists laboratory, an exhausted owl and a disheveled goat move in opposing arcs around a stork-shaped alembic suspended over an enormous fire. A nebulous obscurity that looks like what do you call it gossamer occupying space within the alembic is communicating with the assembled company, which includes Cassandra, Lizzie Twigg, and St. Agatha.]

Lilith: [Obviously missing some feathers] But what you don’t understand, AE, is that you have not reincarnated and you are most certainly not deathless.  Just look at yourself!

Cassandra: Or smell yourself for that matter, isn’t that thing supposed to be hermetically sealed?

Azazel: [Mascera running down his face, lipstick on his teeth, dead roses slipping off of his horns, in obvious need of a mirror] AE, can you hear me? AE, pay attention! You are manifest without rebirth, that’s it. You are nothing. You accomplished your nothingness badly too and for what?

AE: [with a voice of waves] I’m not leaving here until I deliver my message to the world.  Death is the highest form of life. And the highest form of life is me. I am death!

Cassandra: What a narcisist. He’s going to talk about himself until he’s black in the face.  Lilith, can we get on with the re-death without AE’s cooperation?  We have fire, the bicycle pump for air, and what is that thing?

Lizzie Twig: A lobster?

Lilith: A crayfish.  We couldn’t source a real lobster. [Scowls at Azazel].

Cassandra: A crayfish then, for water.  We need something earthy.

Lilith: Something sexually titilating for him, perhaps a pair of breasts? Agatha?

St. Agatha:  I left them at the convent.

Lilith: Lizzie, tell us about your first time with AE.

St. Agatha: She’s a bride of Christ! She can’t be confessing her every little past indiscretion.  What will he think?

Lizzie Twigg: No that’s ok, Agatha. I want to do this; I need closure. I remember I had just answered an ad to aid AE in literary work, but typing skills weren’t required. In a weak moment I let him larrup it into me for the fun of it. I had been drinking Bass, and absinthe, or was it burgundy and absinthe. I remember the absinthe, but what else was it?

Lilith: Doesn’t matter. He’s listening.  Look.

Azazel: AE, seek thou the light!

AE: I won’t have my leg pulled!

Cassandra: Good idea. Lilith, reach in there and let’s fish him out.

Lilith: Yes. Azazel, stoke that fire.  We’ll need the cream to rise to the top so we can reach him.

Lizzie:  Fire? Is he a holocaust? Oh don’t hurt him!

Lilith: Honey, you can’t make butter without a lot of flogging.  Do you want him back or don’t you?

Lizzie: I don’t know. In the beginning for us was the word. I suppose it makes sense for us to end it in the world without end. Bring him back, but I think I really fit in with the guys at the convent, it’s my home now, so I’m going back there with Agatha.  AE is nothing to me.

Lilith: Oh honey, he’s nothing to us too.  Trust me.

Azazel: Nothing, pray for us.

Where’s the great light?

Satan astonished, and with power above his own controll compell'd the Gnomes to curb the horses, & to throw banks of sand around the fiery flaming Harrow in labyrinthine forms. And brooks between to intersect the meadows in their course. The Harrow cast thick flames: Jehovah thunderd above: Chaos & ancient night fled from beneath the fiery Harrow: The Harrow cast thick flames & orb'd us round in concave fires A hell of our own making. see, its flames still gird me round.11:32 pm

Who? Who? Are you blue? Oh its you, my little gnome. I should have expected you, darling, here between evil and deliverance. No no, come back here. I see you, come out. Lurking around your lair. Peering from your warren. Adorable. Don’t want to be seen here do you? Too many danger signals? Oh sweetheart, come dance with me, with all of us. Just a minute I have to take this.  Si? Espera, mi amor, y yo estaré contigo. Alrededor detrás del establo. Sorry about that. You waited! Oh my love, dance with me. What’s that? Oh sweetheart, don’t you see I can’t hear you? Please, my soft soul of flowers, don’t be mislead by appearances, my eyes are larger than my ears! Let’s dance together ’till we’re dead or cured. Doesn’t matter which, gnomey, same difference really. Ah but what’s real here you want to know? This is the dance of delusion, my onliest, my lovey, my luring bird of Eden.  We’ll tango through miserileading doors, and side with fuguist appearances. So how’d you get here?  Must have been Elijah’s horses. Here, hold my pen. Let’s unhitch them, shall we? They’ll dance with us, they dance too you know, then my eagle will bring us a leg of a duck and we can insert it directly into our bodies. You’ll be delicious my diminutive one, my pigmy, my  sweet smiling pestilence, my swan.  We’ll bathe in my cauldron (mind that bubbling lead!) and emerge nice and clean and refreshed and as beautiful as a many colored bow and oh I see, you’re a bit stunted. Well, I’ll hold you up. Not a problem. And then and then

God: Ok, hold.  Vitus, you’re far off script, and did you just take a call?

St. Vitus: [adjusting his peaked cap 180°]  and then we’ll grind our teeth growl howl owl and growling and grinding and teeth ghahute, go first my plunder, go my prey, salute the west gone to rest, ghaghaest, go my guest, my stranger, my destitute, my sterile my wanting, you go my dear ghost, my soul, my demon or my angel, whichever, and then and then

God: Vitus. Vitus!

Jesus: Salute him with your left hand, that’s the password in his language.

The brave woman had manfully helped. She had.

Luster and odors, and blossoms and flowers, All that is richest in gardens and bowers, teach us morality, speak of mortality, whisper that life is a swift unreality.10:46 pm

Scene: [After a job quite happily and well done, those who have passed on, who have gone before are happy too as they gaze down and smile upon the touching scene.]

St. Anne: No matter how many times I see it, no matter how often I am summoned to the miracle that is birth, I can’t get past how disgusting it all is.

St. Margaret: Amen.  And this one was a bleeder.  Where’s the universal husband?

Father Cronion: I saw him just a bit ago.  Finishing up a meal of baby fingers it looked like.

St. Margaret:  Was he?  Lord I’m hungry.  We’ve been at this job for days.

St. Anne: Well isn’t it just like the Universal Husband to be absent just at the God! Oh God you’re here!

God: Did I miss it?

St. Anne: Not at all , not at all. Sir, to you my hand!  A fine job you did here, well done.

God: None of that, none of that.  It was down to the three of you the birth went off as well as it did.  Looks a mess though.

St. Anne:  We’ll send in a crew.  Clean it up.  Margaret?

St. Margaret: I’ll make a call. We’ve been a bit behind schedule

Father Cronion: Time did slip away from us. But we pulled it off in the end, didn’t we ladies.  With of course Your intervention.

God:  It was hard work all around, but my good and faithful servants, we soldiered it out and just look, we gave birth to a fine little mite!  But yes, send in a crew to clean her up.  And flowers.  Lets get her some flowers, give her something to think about.

The happy demise of all unhappy marriages.

Certaine Lordes came downe into thẽ nether houſe, and expreſſely declared cauſes, The marriage betwixt the King and the Lady Anne of Cleue, adiuged vnlawfull. for the which, the mariage was not to be taken lawfull: and in concluſion, the matter was by the conocation cleerely determined, that the King might lawfully marrie where he would, and ſo mighte ſhe. And thus were they clearely diuorſed, and by the Parliament it was enacted, that ſhee ſhoulde bee taken no more for Q. but called the Ladye Anne of Cleue10:10 pm

Scene: [In the house that Jack built, you know the one, where comes the fire that burns up the staff, that beat up the dog, that bit the cat, that ate up the goat — the one my father bought for two zuzim, in the house that Jack built.  In the house that Jack built (Conference Room C, Holy Mother Public Relations Inc.) Eve, Mary, Peter Piscator, Joseph the Joiner, and William Haley celebrate the sudden – at – the – moment – though – from – lingering – illness –  often – previously – expectorated – divorce of Adam and Eve.]

William Haley:  [Filling cups, some decline but Mary is front and center.  No surprise there.] Friends, let us raise a glass to this occasion of Eve and Adam’s postcreation.  Here’s to Eve who is like a flame of many colors of precious jewels, to Adam

Eve: Do we have to toast to Adam?

William Haley: To the vicar of Rome and of Bray, and to all our deceased friends who are more really with us than when they were apparent to our mortal part.  And to

Mary: [Thirstily] Here here!

[All quaff from their mazers]

St Bernard:  The cake is delicious, Peter, did you make it yourself?

Peter Piscator:  No. No, no.  I got it for a song.  Just a penny pippin.

Joseph the Joiner:  Really?  It looks like it would have set you back at least $50.  Although I find it a bit subsubstantial.

Mary:  I find you a bit subsubstantial.

William Haley:  None of that Mary.  Tonight is for Eve’s happiness, which has wings and wheels.  Miseries are leaden legged and their whole employment is to clip the wings and to take off the wheels of our chariots.

Eve:  That’s beautiful, William.  Did you just come up with that now?

Peter Piscator:  No, no.  No.  That sounds like he stole it from what’s his name, that devoted rebel. You know, the enthusiastic hope-fostered visionary.

William Haley:  You are quite wrong sir, and you injure me in your so saying.  But I shall ignore you.  A blight never does good to a tree and if a blight kill not a tree but it still bear fruit let none say that the fruit was in consequence of the blight.

Mary:  Jeepers Chrysthanthemum.  Somebody cut that cake, will you.  Let’s get this party going.

Joseph the Joiner:  Let’s not Mary.  Last time you ended up in bed with a pigeon.

Mary:  That was a rumor started by Leo Taxil.  Please.  What’s it to you if I knew God or I didn’t know God or if I had a pregnancy without joy, a birth without pain, a body without blemish, a belly without bigness.  You want to know if I still have a hymen?  Come and look!

Joseph: With will will we withstand withsay.

Mary:  Oh for the love of Christmas somebody hand over the cake.

William Haley:  For as man liveth not by bread alone, Mary, I shall live although I should want bread.  Who is that hiding under that table?

St. Bernard:  Mary! Mary!  You are the mother of the word incarnate, despise not my petitions, but in thy mercy hear and answer me

Mary:  St. Bernard.  He’s become the creature of my creature.

Eve:  Creepy.  Let’s get rid of him.

William Haley:  We can’t get rid of him.  Time’s ruins build eternity’s mansions.  He like us all is the word made flesh.  Get rid of the flesh and he’ll become word for all eternity connected to us all as by navelcord to navelcord entwining back to Eve.

Mary:  Well now I don’t want cake anymore.

Eve:  Who invited that guy?

What of those Godpossibled souls that we nightly impossibilise?

Then̄e quene Igrayne waxid dayly gretter & gretter so it befel after within half a yere as kyng Vther lay by his quene he asked hir by the feith she ouȝt to hym whos was the child within her body. Thēne she sore abasshed to yeue ansuer.10:05 pm

Scene: [An impromptu meeting at the shrine of St. Foutinus.  A statue of St. Foutinus stands erect in an impressively sized bathtub allowing a variety of palmers and bedesmen to pour their wine offerings over his genitalia while those unable to be delivered of their spleen of lustihead leave wax images of their withered members in hopes a redress God grant.  Doesn’t hurt to try.]

Averroes: [Holding a small lump of wax]  What are you doing here?

Moses Maimonides: [The wounds on his face infected in places, pus oozing past stitches] I’m not speaking to you yet.  Hlo Lilith.  Are you allowed to swim in there?

Lilith: [Naked.  Floating on her back in St. Foutinus’ tub.]  Not really.  But Foutinus and I have a little understanding, don’t we darling.

St. Foutinus:  Screech owl!  Night hag!

Lilith:  He’s a little stiff at the moment.  What are you doing here.  Oh, I see.  Sorry.  Averroes, didn’t you have enough wax?

Averroes:  Never you mind! You should get out of there, you could get pregnant that way.

Lilith:  Oh honey, if that’s what you think no wonder you can’t get it up.

Moses Maimonides:  Idiot.

Averroes:  I though you weren’t speaking to me.  Besides it’s true.  St. Ultan bathes in cold water on windy days, just to avoid it.  He’s got enough mouths to feed.

Moses Maimonides:  You just told Lilith she could get pregnant.  Dumbass.  Don’t you know who she is?  She is the inception of termination.  She is the eraser of mistakes.  She is the darkness at the end of the tunnel, the reliever of stomach bloat and frequent urination, the great evacuator.  She’s what’s between a woman and her doctor.  She takes care of it.  She is the saver of the mother’s life!  Might as well tell her the wind will get her pregnant.

Lilith:  Oh is Zephyrus here?  He blows both ways you know.

Moses Maimonides:  [After a pregnant pause] Does he?

Averroes:  [Dissembling, as his wont was] My apologies Lilith, but what are you doing bathing in there?  That vinegar cures barrenness!

St Foutinus:  Vampire! I smell your reek of moonflower!

Lilith:  Just making my monthly contribution, drum up a little business.  Benefits everybody you know.  She who stealeth from the poor, lendeth to the Lord.

Averroes:  Who was it who said that?