Wheeeeeee!
Dec. 16th, 2005 06:44 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
moonlettuceOne score year and a little bit more ago, when the planets were in alignment and Venus was rising in the Fourth House, a new star appeared in the firmament. This star, brighter than Polaris and clearer than Sirius, heralded the birth of child; a child who would bring enlightenment to our time. Wise men flocked to the star's clarion call. Kings and Princes and used car salesmen waited with bated breath for the star to reveal this child who would forever more shape the destiny of humanity. And reveal the child this star did. Gathering the flocking people under its banner of light, the star guided those who would hear it. Across desert and ocean, across wilderness and France (trust me on this one, out of them all, France was by far the most treacherous), through lands inhabited by creatures of legend and men of myth, the star led them.
Unfortunately, what the star didn't realise was that the first person to answer its call, and by default leader of this rag-tag group seeking the child of truth, couldn't tell his left from his right. Whereas normally this wouldn't be a problem (unless you're trying to direct someone somewhere, and 'turn right at the traffic lights' is meant to be 'turn left at the traffic lights' and you find yourself sending people to the fish market instead of the pub, in which case, yes it can be a problem. Unless they were after the fish market in the first place, in which case, not so much of a problem), what it meant was, instead of following the star's light to the Mecca of the newborn babe, Josiah Flitwick (butcher and part time singer in a barber shop quartet (tenor, to be more precise, although an unfortunate accident involving a broomhandle, some suspenders and his wife coming home when she shouldn't have meant the last six years of his singing career were actually in soprano)) led them to the UK. And what should have been gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh became a cup of tea, a cream scone and a few cucumber sandwiches.
Now, landing at the white cliffs of Dover, the rest of the group began to become rather suspicious (much like the audience when they watched Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves and saw him walk from the cliffs to Hadrian's Wall in a few hours). Where were the heralds, the angels? Where were the signs they had been promised? The signs that would reveal the child to them. But Josiah hadn't been married for 40 years without learning a few tricks. Namely, if all else fails, wing it, and if winging it fails, lie. So he led the group further, searching out the child that wasn't really the saviour of humanity, but would do in a pinch. And he found her. The golden child, the babe in arms. And it was decreed that that day was good day, and a bright day. And the child was held up as a paragon of truth, virtue and dolphin-friendly tuna. And Josiah wrote a book (well, he had it ghost written by Barbara Cartland. Which meant the people who bought the book and then came on pilgrimages were rather surprised by the entire lack of virginal beauties with heaving bosoms being swept of their feet by 6ft handsome men on horses). The book rights were snapped up by Hollywood, who immediately cast Tom Cruise in the lead role. (The movie went on to gross the highest ever earning in film history. Even more than 'The Great Towering Titanic Adventure Inferno Escape'.)
And everyone lived happily ever after (including Tom Cruise, who managed to get over the fact that his ex-wife was now a higher paid actor than he was. And a better one, too).
'But wait!' I hear you yell. (Or at least I would if I was listening to you and not ignoring you.) What happened to the child? This babe that was to bring salvation to our world? Well, she tried. But being the saviour and last hope of an entire race can be a bit of a bugger at times. So she quit, and started to write porn instead. But the remnants of her old life will not leave her behind, and the gods decreed the anniversary of her birth would be a joyous celebration. With much merriment and happiness. And also much drinking. (Well, that bit was decided on later, but it was a unanimous decision and heartily approved of.)
So, join us. Join us in the celebration of being, in the reaffirmation of joy and friendship. Throw off the shackles of mundanity and dance the dance of life itself!
Or, to cut a long story short:
Unfortunately, what the star didn't realise was that the first person to answer its call, and by default leader of this rag-tag group seeking the child of truth, couldn't tell his left from his right. Whereas normally this wouldn't be a problem (unless you're trying to direct someone somewhere, and 'turn right at the traffic lights' is meant to be 'turn left at the traffic lights' and you find yourself sending people to the fish market instead of the pub, in which case, yes it can be a problem. Unless they were after the fish market in the first place, in which case, not so much of a problem), what it meant was, instead of following the star's light to the Mecca of the newborn babe, Josiah Flitwick (butcher and part time singer in a barber shop quartet (tenor, to be more precise, although an unfortunate accident involving a broomhandle, some suspenders and his wife coming home when she shouldn't have meant the last six years of his singing career were actually in soprano)) led them to the UK. And what should have been gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh became a cup of tea, a cream scone and a few cucumber sandwiches.
Now, landing at the white cliffs of Dover, the rest of the group began to become rather suspicious (much like the audience when they watched Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves and saw him walk from the cliffs to Hadrian's Wall in a few hours). Where were the heralds, the angels? Where were the signs they had been promised? The signs that would reveal the child to them. But Josiah hadn't been married for 40 years without learning a few tricks. Namely, if all else fails, wing it, and if winging it fails, lie. So he led the group further, searching out the child that wasn't really the saviour of humanity, but would do in a pinch. And he found her. The golden child, the babe in arms. And it was decreed that that day was good day, and a bright day. And the child was held up as a paragon of truth, virtue and dolphin-friendly tuna. And Josiah wrote a book (well, he had it ghost written by Barbara Cartland. Which meant the people who bought the book and then came on pilgrimages were rather surprised by the entire lack of virginal beauties with heaving bosoms being swept of their feet by 6ft handsome men on horses). The book rights were snapped up by Hollywood, who immediately cast Tom Cruise in the lead role. (The movie went on to gross the highest ever earning in film history. Even more than 'The Great Towering Titanic Adventure Inferno Escape'.)
And everyone lived happily ever after (including Tom Cruise, who managed to get over the fact that his ex-wife was now a higher paid actor than he was. And a better one, too).
'But wait!' I hear you yell. (Or at least I would if I was listening to you and not ignoring you.) What happened to the child? This babe that was to bring salvation to our world? Well, she tried. But being the saviour and last hope of an entire race can be a bit of a bugger at times. So she quit, and started to write porn instead. But the remnants of her old life will not leave her behind, and the gods decreed the anniversary of her birth would be a joyous celebration. With much merriment and happiness. And also much drinking. (Well, that bit was decided on later, but it was a unanimous decision and heartily approved of.)
So, join us. Join us in the celebration of being, in the reaffirmation of joy and friendship. Throw off the shackles of mundanity and dance the dance of life itself!
Or, to cut a long story short:
