Inutility
9
And when that Old Fornicus were washt of his cammoflage, and groomd with a groombroom, he went and brought him self into the street. In walking along Wengwyn Wahlli Da, he alway feelen tempted to stamp his foot; for he had heard that the town sitteth upon a fault. And as he walkt, whacking the ground with his staff, lo, there condens-ed about him a throng reveling in high gear. And he cast about, saying, What? And the people chortled and cavorted; and their whisprings crasht against him like as a furious sea. And tho he had come to announce his fortune, this were not the time. And his countenance gaind skew on the devil’s index, and he lasht out, saying, Off, ye buzzing pissobees! Hath a man no time alone here? Permit ye not the travler’s carnaged brain its time to gel and skin o’er? His scorcht-out nostrills, their time to retool and whiff some city unbiasd? Now I could drop down and wimper for you; else or, I could blast the fat offen your frames. Which think y’all that it shall be, ye going at me thisaway?
And a voice rang out, saying, Wha-ho, is it not Old Fornicus? Where be thy coochie bay-bay, old man? And the throng frolickt, and reviled him. And the ringing voice diald him up again, saying, Where be thy teat?
And zound; the voice was the very same that was heard by Old Fornicus in the night, saying, Art thou awake? And ’twas the same that said, Pitch thy lines, reel in horrers & delights. And the voice was acshually that of Bullus the Jester, who doth grand wit, and pulleth capers, and deceiveth people, and calleth it art. ’Twas neither the Voice of the Lord, after all. And the visage of Old Fornicus ratcheted high into the misery index; and he murmurd, saying, Screwd by a prankister.
Then came forth a young woman unto Old Fornicus, crying, Frazzld daemon, hast thou my child, and my teat? This japejoy Bullus did appear unto me, and claimd to be an anjel, and said that the Lord wishen to adopt my child. And he boosten away from me my babie and my falsieteat.
And Bullus, face embosst with merriment, pusht through the throng, and came and drape-ed sweat-spouting arms across their shoulders, and said, Yea, that is about it, there is not much that I can add upon’t. I took my self up onto the roof which is there over Old Fornicus, and cat me an fun-hole therein. And through the fun-hole I spake reverberantly unto him, and reacht down through his
10 
window and deposited the life items. And I suppose it just possibol, that I made out like as deity, which ploy cometh natcherol at that height whereat I perch-ed. Now people, I did it. Yet, ’tis not for the doing of it that I toot, but for the way I deliverd.
And silence stole upon, upon stole silence as Bullus grinn-ed to and fro; and they could see that his teeth were worse than theirn, and needen fixt. Then upon them erupted great laughter outen Bullus, booming and insufferabol. And he said, See me smite my breast, in this mine honey-day! Salutes to the exquizit jest, the hammerload, such as the amusingest fools of the poshest kings ne’er have managed to conceive.
And he did expect that the young woman and Old Fornicus should laff also, for then as now, jest is jest, and lieth above predicoments. And he placed him self right close upon their faces, and said in breath on loan from the devol, Who, say ye, hath the master goods as Best Jester? Come, who say ye? Is’t I? Is it brother Bullus?
But Old Fornicus pulld a long face against him, and said, I know nought of that thou speakest, sirrah. If an thou hast filch-ed this woman’s babe & baggage, then were’t all for the magistrate to mull. As for me, I have no baby, nor again no teat have I. My departimont is Mass Extinxians, tho I offer also a product tailord to the indivijel; wouldst thou an free sampol? And he flourisht & departed away from the throng of gapers, thinking as he went, Gavotte unto thine own rhapsody, jestiker.
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| Copyright 2007- WJ Schafer & WC Smith - All Rights Reserved |
| -----------------------Chapiter | Thou Art |
| 1. A Old Battler Rousted Outen His Sleepf pp. 1-3 | |
| 2. That Voice Cometh On Like As The Very Lord! pp. 4-5 | |
| 3. Investiture In The View That The Voice Is Lord pp. 5-8 | |
| 4. Rapture In The Sweet Symphony Of Living p. 8 | |
| 5. Fraud & Blasphemy: The Art Of The Voice Player pp. 9-10 | < hookt in |
| 6. Final Price Of The Package pp.10-12 | |
| 7. Indectic pp. 13-14 |
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