Thursday, April 3, 2014

The saga of Gilgimarsh (part four)

When Betsy realized she had been elected supreme leader she was dumbfounded. She was, as were all the other cattle, a devoted follower of Mahatma the Gandhi, and believed in a nonviolent, vegetarian lifestyle. The cattle believed themselves sacred and loved Gandhi for his mind and his writings. He had said: "I worship the cow and I shall defend its worship against the whole world." This binational enterprise that Saint Josh and Perky Pete were conniving on had become at least trinational if you didn't include all the other critters that roamed throughout Gilgimarsh, and she had no intentions of battling with this conflict over regurgitation. So Betsy, after a quite gathering with the herd, called a meeting with Saint Josh and Perky Pete and using all the diplomacy she could muster, delved into the concept of a leaderless society in which cows would be sacred, toucans would regurgitate only where fertilizer was needed and a few treats for the cows and could be gods if so inclined, and humans would give up all ownership rights and be simply treated as honoured guests of Gilgimarsh and make all the mozzarella and lasagna they wanted.

Perky Pete was tired of being god and all the insults he was getting and thought it possible that an I – Thou relationship could be reestablished amongst the the disenfranchised pantheon as well as with regurgitation. But for Saint Josh it was not so simple. His love of lasagna was all consuming and his faith in it's qualities and that the pungency of ripe mozzarella had the ability to invoke the divine in most humans was beyond questioning. He had been appointed guardian of the tribe by his predecessor and had no faith whatsoever in their ability to remain committed to the pungency and passion of his great calling. In order to live up to the honour which future writers would bestow on him and live up to the motto that "Whoso keepes the fig-tree shall eat the fruit thereof" he decided to forgo war at the present time and keep his cohorts faithful to their calling in their new land by causing no waves. And thus the cows became sacred and the gods resumed their pantheon and Justin the Bieber had lasagna for his 4 a.m. munchies for the foreseeable future.

Picked up a small job for the next day or ten so will resume “The saga of Gilgimarsh” when they tire of my good looks and sublime comments.
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