Oh
you contemptuous Winterpegers. Behold your god! You are bad people,
ignoring me. Your media criers don't give a rat's behind about the
magnanimity I bestowed upon you when I came to your mosquito ravaged
megalopolis to instill my splendour in your newfangled ziggurat.
I
don't trust the underpinnings of this pile of rock and steel though.
Building a monument to last for millennia on the mud of 7000 floods?
You guys got lots to learn. You think that the little ditch that
Duff built is going to save your fancy chancy architecture from those
yearly once in a millennium floods come the great warming and all?
You
build it, we will come, us gods, nonetheless. I chanced to be
cruising about with the emanation of Justin the Bieber, listening to
some girly tunes, when low and behold we happened upon your ziggurat,
pinnacle in the heavens. Well, gracious me, gods can not pass up
opportunities like this. A ziggurat in the 21st century
CE. What a sweet surprise. A home for a god. But in mosquito
heaven? Well, I packed up my bags
and said a hasty farewell to my chums and off I stole in the middle
of the night to slap the claims on your neat establishment as a godly
ghost, forever to wander it's great halls and play havoc with your
super screens. And this plastic remote is really neat compared with
my normal crooked staff.
Oh
chemical man, gods laugh at your own undoings. You have etched joy
into the hearts of us more wicked types. Nanna is up to his armpits
in nostalgia for the good old days when chariots with torches of fire
where the worst he had to deal with in his bid to tame mankind. And
these humane rights you have chiseled by my rostrum here: everyone is
entitled to live once they are created and everyone is entitled to do
anything they want to so long as it doesn't conflict with the above.
Ya, right. You were created to indulge the gods, nothing more and
nothing less.
People!
Please! Do you not know that gods must be honoured, cajoled,
appeased, humoured? Your culture must be enlightened. If you wish
to build a ziggurat, you will attract a god. And you must provide
him with food and drink and song and lewd dance or there will be
trouble! Your science knows twat about the intricacies of the
etherverse.
Now,
as starters, I am going to provide you with some subliminal messages
on these vast surround screens. As your school children file through
these capacious halls I will subject them to an assortment of hints
and prods to get them all shamelessly singing and dancing for my
amusement. For the more nocturnal sort it's dreadfully easy to
unwittingly trigger those hormones with a few flicks to get the party
rolling. A little feast and some good booze and the unrestrained
lasciviousness will quench my desires. We'll get this scene
arockin.
When
I am imbued with the terrifying splendour of royalty, your Lord Musum
shining like the sun, when I am allowed to perfectly wield my august
divine powers, the great divine powers, when I am cloaked as if with
a mantle in the great awesomeness of royalty - then I will come forth
in brilliance like the shining moon soliciting on your behalf with
the Bart of Heaven for protection from the yearly floods and hoards
of ensuing mosquitoes.
Till
you honour me with your thoughts and prayers and above all the lewd
dance, oh peoples of Winterpeg, be very, very afraid. Pestilence
from every critter and scourge of nature will ravage your lives until
you come crawling up the ramparts of my ziggurat, prostrating
yourselves before my resplendency. Have fear, have great fear.
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