The Parable of the Prosti
Friday, December 14, 2007
The previous week was a lesson on hype. I have been taught well, for my mentors are a distinguished lot. I have learned many, many things. Now, permit me a moment with this wall. My head needs much banging against it.
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Come, kiddies. I fancy a short illustrated tale. I have more pressing things I wish to say, but neither drive nor license to say them, so the following digression should suffice for this week’s blog entry.
*ahem*
There was once a boy named Carl. Carl was a bewildered boy. Very bewildered, indeed. What he was bewildered about, however, was unknown to anyone, including himself.
Fearing that this emotional ambiguity may prove detrimental to his hotness, Carl called on his two Sentinels of Smarm—Peachy the Prosti and Bardot the Harlot—to help him gain better focus.
Getting down on her knees (a position she was rather known for amongst the more sinewy lads in the village), Peachy the Prosti began to pray. Please, please, O Mighty Phallus, Peachy the Prosti prayed. Please help Carl achieve the enlightenment for which he yearns ever-so-deeply!
And suddenly, in a flash of the brightest, most dazzling white, the white of a most inconceivable benevolence…
…Bardot the Harlot turned into a bundt cake.
Oh my shooting stars! Peachy the Prosti exclaimed, glee coursing through her soul and down her inner thighs. I have rid the village of one harlot! If prayer is all that it takes to dispose of them, then I must pray a few dozen times more, so that I can be the only Woman of "Leisure" left in the village and accumulate an income far more appropriate for the special services I so skillfully impart!
And pray the Prosti did.
At last, I have mmmmmmonopoly!!! Peachy the Prosti declared with much cacophonous cackling (as Peachy the Prosti was wont to do).
Peachy the Prosti left Carl soon after this bout of rejoicing, her Prosti Pager having begun to beep incessantly with so many, many new clients.
Miffed by Peachy the Prosti’s betrayal, Carl sat down before the sea of fresh bundt cakes and sighed. His bewilderment, however, did gain better focus somewhat, for a sea of fresh bundt cakes is always quite a bewildering thing. (There is, after all, only so much one can do with a load of bundt.) And this development in the boy's dilemma was able to please him slightly. It was, at least for the time being, enough.
FIN.
posted by marguerite @ 3:38 AM
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