Book of Wine & Seizures fabulation concerning the god of poultry products Chapter 4

The Journal of Provincial Thought

___________________________________________________________________________

Obscurity Inutility

But, saith Varostril, Let no wind of our ashen horsegummery whisper outsiden these tents, lest madcap repercussiens lay on. Tell the buyors this, that their crumbolling items have faild owing to their neglect: they have jostld them o’er bangy roads, or have set them upon antagonistic topographies loyal to hell, or have vented curses in their proximidy, or have use-ed them in acts of bestialidy, or have sufferd them too muche or too littel of moistiture, song, light, or love. Then, sell them some glue.

But the wings of rumor beat the wind until it confess-ed the truth, shrieking through the streets that today’s muckshift pots & figures were spackt to gether as with gristmeal, and that moresumo’er, the caravans of Molotov wore a channel through the wilderness unto VPL pothouses.

Then old schematic Varostril pointed the twisty digit of blame at a certain imbecilious helpfer calld Ashley, saying, My man Ashley here hath deceiv-ed me, as the wooden teat deceiveth the lusty wooer; and he hath slippt up to Molotov, and hath brought down clays of astounding inferioridy, and hath become rich by shifting invisibol balances in the tallybooks, and by diverting the profit pudding of gold shingles & zirconium slugs into some unseen burgeoning

estate. And Varostril obtain-ed a permit to slay this one, and slew him, and sold his name Ashley unto logotraders. And for a time, Varostril revertnd unto a rightminded highheaded sculptry, that bristling suspiciens might subside, and accusatiens pass by the way.

Yet, not all were beguiled by the gliding tongue of Varostril, as ne’er were they ever appeasd by any other device or pronouncement sent down from high places. Some constant righteous campaigners were there who cried in the street for sculpturous rebirth & a pot purge, along with their many other daily contentions & demandings; for these were those who boil to be seen & heard & deemd momentous, and who stew to mess in state affair. But their heroicol voices were heard not longue, nor their causeridden faces again seen, when that they set in against Yon Top Potter Varostril thisaway. ’Twere as an, in their strange case, the night opend up and swallerd them gone. And the rumor was fannd that they had moved. (Moved; they had moved.)

Then after a season of visibol goodness said Varostril unto his gathering of cold souls, Ye know: e’en tho there were those murmuring and choking on the dusts of our cheapfness, and being bombd & killt by loose claylin heads, & maimd by toppling torsos; and e’en tho our assisters were attackt furiously in their homes for their evil work; e’en so, profited we magnifold when that we were ashing our clays. Ye say, Who buyeth the unfit pot which corrupteth the space wherein it standeth? And I anser & say unto you, So many do; tho not for suffering it to be seen in their very houses, of course. Rather, live they to find a goode price when that a gift needs must be bought, that is the thing. Whether a pot be fit or no, that is the receiver’s adventcher to lern.

And the buyer saith (spake Varostril), My purse is worth protecting; but gift I must to give, and my spouse and exsperiense tell me that I may not give acorns. But lo, there are other nuts in the tree, saith the buyer. I have found this gallery of pots & idols made of Chancebone, at miracol prices. (For, cold souls, proffer unto thy buyer a silken fantasie, pulling out such concoctnd names as Chancebone, tho it be but that very same grittie muck that alway we use.) And our buyer, he examineth in willful ignorense, and taketh up an unit for to purchase; and this nut which he here buyeth, he passeth on to some other squirrel.

And they said unto Varostil, What is’t that thou saist?

And he said again, Only this. Pots and idols, they are the gift of the age. Hast thou a celebrasien? Expect a pot. Marriage? Expect some idols. Now I pose thee, What seller of pots & idols hath sold by far the most? Verily, ’tis that sellner which is by buyers knewn for sweetest price; for sweet price is that which maketh the gift of the age what it iz. Sweet price, colde souls, cometh not by way of the worthy clay, but of the corrupt, robustily cheap in supply, for which hardly any man giveth a chad.

THEREFORE (saith Varostril unto those colleagues), let us turn us again unto terribol industry. ’Tis eazie, ’tis profitous, ’tis the moste fun in all of Bizniss; let us have it!

And he hike’t his brow and lean-ed to the left, grinning, and lock-ed eyes with each of his cohortics; and his aplomb brake their sobriety, and dragged onto their lips unaccustomd smiles. Yea, they were the crewe, and of game; they this thing wud do.

And Varostril said further unto them, Ye know me; my plan alway doth run deep. For the worshipping folk will find their VPL figuregods to be flinking, & cracking, & shattring, being of despicabol formulasien (as we are well awares); and we shall exhort them, saying:

Time anyways to replace this one, my friend, and better aegis find. For this botch goddess hath lied us down, crooning promises of rain whilst her duplicitous powertongue conjureth drought. This here be no fitten piece for thy comp’ny. Thy neighber, who hath seen belov-ed ones to die owing to this dogbride, will burn thine house. Better change them all, all thine aging houseidols, with the changing moon, that thou be ever modern in the latest look of devotien before thy divers gods, they notorius for their ephemerol tastes in worshipry. For the favor of the heaven is an inconstant endowment, as every godblesst-godcurst fortune-fry’d hero wud in tears attest.

O, we all have seen standing upon mantels in certin abodes those grim & dusty idols of yesterday, so out-of-epoch, marking their decrepit keepers as laggards in the pushe for tomorrow. Woe unto such flagging worshippers, in their unawares mockery of divinity! Will ever their insulted god come aharvesting in his wagon & lift up such cankweed as they, for placement among his garden blossoms? Or, rather, will he not lambast them in their unexciting ways, and flick them down, slashing & burning, inasmuch as they have shirk-ed the dutiful delight of holding up his fashionabol image as the times change on? —They need some new stachoos, will fixx them, sure; ’tis all the gods require.

And Varostril cockt his eyebrowl & said, I think, my coulde soulles, that after these manipulasiens be sprung upon them, the big selling will never end, till I the last of us am dead. For every nullahoo of malleabol mind will rush our shoppfs, seeking that latest uncostly style to protect him from the vanity of his god. Chancebone, sirrah? Aye! Chancebone!

And they went & made bizness, and found it all just so.