All New Wholesome Tales

I smell blasphemy and debauchery.

Carry on.

crikey!

I know !! Crikey indeedio someone here has got a "funny" sense of imagination ( the perv )

It'll be alright in the end ! these things always are

5

"The eye of a needle, you say," Pettius Pompous mused loudly. "Sounds like some kind of loaded statement to me. A code for a Samaritan uprising? Through the eye of the storm, perhaps? The needle meaning a lightning bolt --- a lightning bolt of revolt, maybe? Frankly, it's an odd kind of thing to say."  

"He's an odd kind of guy," Odious replied with a yawn. "Last week it was something about camel's then too - and passing through the eye of a needle - though not sure if he was meaning the same kind of needle on that occasion, there being different kinds for different dresswork - and what's more, it'd be easier than a rich man passing though! Which, of course, I took as a snied comment on rich people. Jesus linked the phrase with what he keeps calling the Kingdom of God, implying rich people - respectable folk like me, that is - haven't a camel's chance of getting a guernsey that day! Needle? Guernsey? Some connection there maybe - if it's a tailored guernsey... Anyway, you know, your typical oblique Nazarean rubbish."

"That day?"

"The Day of the Lord. He's one of your standard Jewish Messianists, though his followers will bristle at that comment! Get a bit serious about their Lord! Do you realise he's more popular than that Brad Pitt fellow."

"I've been told he's one of the nicest faith healers you'll ever meet," Pettius rejoined thoughtfully. "Though apparently he does get angry with his disciples quite a bit. Reckons they're a bit stupid it's reported.  You'd think he'd pick smarter disciples really. By all accounts, they never seem to get what he's on about, whatever that is."  

"Disciples aren't generally your smarter types. There are leaders and there are followers, Pettius: surely the Procurator of Judaea of all people would know that. And by the way, another thing: hís exorcisms are done using the power of Beelzebub."

"But can Beelzebub throw out another Beelzebub?"

"If one Beelzebub is stronger than the other Beelzebub. Come on, you're a Roman, use your intellect."

"Oh well, you might be right. Anyway, it's this Eldo the Uprighteous...

"Uptighteous."

"... we're more worried about. Another former High Priest has been strangled in the streets of Jerusalem! Eldo's Licoricii at work again! But fear not! You'll be pleased to know we've closed in on him. He's holed up with his four most trusted disciples at the house of one Cephas the sausage maker south of Nazareth. I have sent some of my best auxillaries there and no doubt they surround that house even as we speak!"

"Good," Odious sighed. "He's an irritating little bastard."

"Bastard?"

"Well, he is to me!"

"Talking about irritating little bastards, what about Dave the Baptiser? I gather word has reached your ears from Halfherod that he is  locked up in the Macherus lockholes?"

"Macherus?"

"Halfherod's stronghold. You're the Jewish High Priest not me. You should know it. And did you hear about last night?"

"No," Odious replied, not failing to note the sudden glint in Pettius' eye.

"Well, apparently Salami the daughter of Azrieldias did a spectacularly lewd dance for Halfherod and he offered to give her whatever she wished."

"Spectacularly lewd, you say?"

"Yes, and exactly the kind of lewdness that you're rumoured to be very fond of, you old perv."

"I have no idea what you're talking about, and I remind you that I am a man of God!" Odious retorted on his dignity. "But... mmmm... I may have to bring this Salami to me for a private performance so that I can pass.... cough... religious judgment on her. But for now: did Halfherod give her what she wanted?"

"I don't know. We'll have to wait for Part 6 to find that out, my friend, because apparently this is not your Tolkien kind of tale where important events occur off screen. Not lewd dances anyhow!"

6


Salami had perhaps been too engrossed in her Gospel Gossip Magazine; this may explain her oversight, or memory loss. Of course she remembered her pending dance engagement before Halfherod, but she could not remember exactly what kind of dance she was meant to perform. At last, it came to her: : "Oh yes. I must do a lute dance before Halfherod!" And so, off to Halfherod's banquet hall she trundled in a rather nice gown under a lovely coiffured head.

The audience was quite large, as the rumour had spread wide of her lewd dance, and she was pleased to see such a large gathering in the banquet hall when she entered. Silence fell and she performed a rather chaste dance including pirouettes, arbusculars, serendies and other dance moves of the time. And she performed all the while accompying herself on her lute (a instrument that is always used to accompany chaste dances)(apparently)(a lute which she had restored that once belonged to Julius Caesar who had played it the night before he was assassinated) (apparently). Mind you, dear reader, it was quite a boring dance to that particular uncultured audience, which was one that much preferred lewd dances.

At the end of her dance, she was dancing close up to Halfherod - who was looking dazed, as he had himself expected a lewd dance, not a chaste lute dance - and Salami stopped before him looking suddenly uncertain.

"I am supposed to do something now," she quizzed herself thoughtfully. "But I've forgotten what."

Her mother, Azrieldias, sat beside Halfherod looking quite peeved. "Breasts!" she hissed as quietly as possible between her closed lips. "Breasts, you stupid girl - or opportunity flees!"

"No, Mother," Salami whispered back. "I made sure they didn't fall out! I noticed the gown you chose was missing a few buttons and so I pinned it up! Thank Jehovah I did that needlework class last semester!"

And Salami was very pleased with herself, knowing (in her own mind) that her Mother had not wanted her to be a slut tonight, however well that ploy had worked with Pettius Pompous during the Passover Festival last year.

"Aren't you going to offer me anything I want?" Salami asked Halfherod, when that dazed King said nothing, but only sat there with his mouth open like a codfish.

"Get out of here!" at last Halfherod told her tersely. "And send in your sister, Salome."

"Yes, Stepfather," Salami squeaked, not knowing what she had done (or not done) to upset him.

"Thank Jehovah I had Plan B," Azrieldias told herself in relief.        

As she left the banquet hall, Salami overheard one of the guests say, "I thought she was going to do an awesomely lewd dance."

"It's what I heard too. Absolutely erotic!"

"Oh dear!" Salami said realising her error. But it was too late of course. Nonetheless, all of Judaea were soon talking about what a wonderful lewd dancer she was. Some say they mixed her up with Salome, but who can say?  



* * *


Dave the Baptiser was sitting in his dungeon with a rather splendid fellow, John, who was dressed in a leopard skin and was a Baptiser too.

"You know, I was baptising in water," John was telling Dave, "but Jesus came along and baptised in the Holy Spirit."

"I heard it was the Holy Breath, strictly speaking," David said thoughtfully. "Quite evocative, really. The breath, I guess, being the 'breath' of Jehovah himself, breathing new life."

"I concede that does sound more poignant than 'spirit'," John said thoughtfully. "Yes, now you mention it, 'spirit' does sound somewhat nebulous and clinical really, while 'breath' suggests a more intimate relationship with God... Mmm... a metaphorical 'breathing' into a new life..."

"Hey!" Dave interrupted. "Is that the guards coming?"
   
It was.

"I want the Baptiser," said a scowling guard when the gaol door swung open.

"Which one?" John asked politely.

"What? Aren't you the Baptiser?

"One of them, Sir."

"Oh you'll do. Come. Salome has asked for your head."

"John's head?" David said in surprise. "My Lord! I don't think he's the type!"

"I think you misunderstand," John said in a voice tinged with kind sadness as he turned to Dave. "Verily I tell you, you are a simple man. But take courage, for simple country folk like you will inherit the Kingdom."

"Why, thankee," David said and shook John's hand before they lead the latter away.

"What a lovely lovely chap he is," said Dave when they were gone. "And very dignified too, even if he dresses a bit eccentric."

*snort*

The holy spirit? You mean buckie?

{{{{{ }}}}}}

"John's head?" David said in surprise. "My Lord! I don't think he's the type!"

"I think you misunderstand," John said in a voice tinged with kind sadness as he turned to Dave. "Verily I tell you, you are a simple man. But take courage, for simple country folk like you will inherit the Kingdom."

"Why, thankee," David said and shook John's hand before they lead the latter away.

"What a lovely lovely chap he is," said Dave when they were gone. "And very dignified too, even if he dresses a bit eccentric."

7


"Now, have you got it in your thick heads yet?"

His four main disciples nodded their heads, though not as confidently as Eldo might have hoped. Eldo sighed.

"Amarie. What are you going to do?"

"I am going to take my troop of blood thirsty God Fearers through the east gate of Jerusalem dressed up as silk traders from Petra. Once inside, we'll unload our camels and use our camel-sized needles to stab every man woman and child to death - but only if they look unholy, which I assume we'll have to guage on the run!"

"Good. Good. And you, Ringo?"

"The west gate for me and my troops, dressed like Phoenician traders, armed to the teeth with swords up our jumpers."

"Good. Good. And you Norc?"

"I'll head up alone to the Chief Priest's dressed up in ultra tight boy's clothes and ask to be let in to see Odious Orwello," Norc answered. "I've got the licorice strap tied around my waist for a belt." She grinned sheepishly. "I hope it doesn't sound ungodly, Lord Eldo, but I'm sure going to enjoy my meeting with that odious man."

"Good. Good. Those boy's clothes do look very very tight. Odious, from what I've heard, won't hesitate to let you in to see him. And I assure you, murdering the old poof can only please Jehovah. Very very much. Remember this saying henceforth which I just now coin: 'A dead poof is a poof well killed.'"

"Oh I like that!" Blue said brightly and wrote it down. Then he frowned, struck by bemusement. "Eldo, what's an old poof by the way?"

"It's a poof who isn't young anymore, you dick," Norc scoffed, pleased she knew something that Blue didn't. Not that she knew what a poof was, the word poof being quite an anachronism, but Norc knew just the same that an old poof couldn't be a young poof as well, whatever a poof was, not even in a Wholesome Tale.

"A poof who isn't young, mmm....?" Blue mused. "Still: you know: the word doesn't sound very Yiddish..."

"Enough of you pedantry, Blue! Tell me now: what is your part?" Eldo asked.

"Oh my troop and I will enter the city by the south gate, all of us dressed as Go Go dancers, so as to attract those lecherous Romans out of the fortress and down to the said gate with a view to mesmerising them with our pompoms and tassles and little black dresses while Ringo and Amarie cut off lots of unholy heads and stuff before taking those damn distracted Romans up the rear."

"Good. Good," Eldo said, somewhat gleefully. "And once we have taken the City of God by force we'll enact my version of the Kingdom of God and set up my statue in the Temple Courtyard. It'll be a bloody massacre that marks the dawn of a long Eldolian peace."

His disciples couldn't help seeing the fire in his eyes just then, or, more accurately, the fires in his eyes, though they weren't actually real fires in Eldo's eyes, only metaphorical ones; yet visible metaphorical fires that could be plainly seen by his disciples. It was amazing what people could see in those days really. Mind you, religious disciples have always been good at seeing things that no one else can see.  
Noises suddenly arose outside.

"Ho!" Eldo hoed, all alert on the instant. "Is that the sound of marching centurions rocking up at both the front and back of Cephas' house?"

It was.


* * *

"Dastardly!" Odious opined as he shared a dram of Old Wynyard with his friend Pettius Pompous. "It's only right that that upstart blasphemer, Eldo the Uptighteous has been hung drawn and quartered. Fancy him thinking he could conquer Jerusalem and set up a whole new pseudo-Jehovan religion in the Temple! 'Catholicism'? Bizarre! Means 'universalism' doesn't it?"

"Who cares," Odious laughed odiously and took a gulp of his wine. "The main point is: Eldo is dead. And good riddance I say."

"Yes, I guess all's well that end's well," Pettius said philosphically. "And just think of the flow on benefits! His beautiful disciple Amarie is now my volutuous slavegirl. And Blue is my pedantic scribe - which is just what you want in a scribe truth be known. And Ringo has been reprogrammed and joined my crack Child Murderer Legion. Not a bad return for a day's work in Roman Judaea, what!"

"Yes. And as for that page boy, Norc," Odious grinned showing all his shark-like teeth. "Well, I've already had him attend to some of my private needs. And what a joy he is - at least, once I had him tied up, gagged and sedated. You know, dear Pettius, there's more to that boy than meets the eye. Now: if you would be as kind as to hand me the tobacco jar..."

...and Pettius and Odious lived happily ever after.  

THE END  


 





 

   


.

I have never read anything so outrageous !!...................
Brilliant !

Somebody is SO rocketing straight to hell...

Disgusting blasphemy of the most entertaining sort (which is the worst sort there is!) typical of Old Anon to make something hilarious out of something so sacred

bloody hell!

Is there any other sort? (And I imagine Old Anons scribblings are on the best seller list there)

Orwell continues to expand the boundaries of art on Forumshire.

  

I don't think I belong in this section of Forumshire! It's so wicked!

welcome to the Darkshire. muahahaha!

THE PREPPERSHIRE CHRONICLE

ONE

Erumas should have been festive for Mister Odo Reuel Banks, Esquire, but the day had not begun well and was not going to go any better as it progressed.

At eight in the morning he was eating breakfast watching the Needlehole News on Public Palantir, when Lesbo Proudfoot reported: "Gondor is reported to be in utter turmoil today as the town has been infected with a malady that is turning it's citizens into flesh eating zombies! The outbreak started with patrons of Banks Jellywares in Faramir Parade...."

"What? Zombies? Jellywares? Faramir Parade! Stupid woman! It's Faramir Avenue!"

"Zombies?" his Research Assistant, Halfwise, piped up from where he sat at Odo's Undertable alongside Odo's Science Student, Petty McCracken. "Fancy that!"

"Coincidence," Odo said, though his tone exhibited a certain guilty wariness. "Has to be!"

Later, at morning tea, new reports came in and Halfwise caught them on the micro Palantir in the Jelly Laboratory in Cellar 6. Halfwise dropped his test tube and rushed up to the kitchen.

"Mister Odo! Mister Odo!"

"Do you mind," Odo cried, almost choking on the crumbly Fjordianboy cookie he was eating. "I really wish you wouldn't startle me like that."

"But Mister Banks!" Halfwise spluttered, clearly disturbed. "All of Ithilien is in turmoil! The men and elves there have all turned into zombies!"

"Well, isn't that becoming the rage," Odo said droly, though his fingers jiggled nervously. "I'm sure the fad will pass..."

"But it's reported the folk of Forbidden Cavestown came down with the infection first! And it started in customers of..."

"Don't tell me! Customers of Eowyn's Jelly Party Supplies! The coincidences seem to be abounding today. Enough of your nonesensical speculations. We have nothing to worry about. Get back to your Research, lad." But despite his dismissive arrogance Odo felt a bead of sweat forming on his brow.

At dinner, with all the Banks Clan there in the Great Hall at the Uppertable, and Halfwise and Petty sitting at the Undertable, a loud knock came at the door.

When trouble was brewing, Odo was always prescient.

"I'll answer the door!" he squeaked. Catching himself, he said more deeply: "It's Erumas everyone!" he laughed hollowly. "It's probably beggars seeking a scrap of mouldy bread. I'll go to the door and beat them off with my walking stick!"

And off he trotted, trying not to look worried, but he was!

Odo was not even surprised to find a hard eyed Captain Dave Cranberry of the Needlehole Guard on his doorstep, and with him Mayor Bungo looking bewuthered, and worse still, Lord Eldorion from Lore Tower, his hair parted down the middle in a very businesslike fashion. And they all stared at him with scowly suspicion.

Odo grinned his most genuine grin. "Oh look who's puffing on my dootstep," he joked lamely. "If it's not the Three Wise Stooges! Ho! Ho! Ho!"

"I trust you've kept abreast of the news coming up the Greenway - and now just in from Bree too... Mister... Odo... Banks!" Lord Eldorion said without humour.

"You don't mean all that zombie nonsense... and don't tell me, Bree is infected too? They were always a bit queer... err... um...." And Odo grinned again - with his face draining of all colour. "Oh go on then. Tell me it was the customers of the Little Banks Jelly Emporium... I mean --- you know ----" His shoulders dropped fatalistically. "Oh blast it! This is all I need today, what with the turkey burnt and Mirabella in a dark mood!"

"Soooo..." drawled Sergeant Dave. "You clearly have some idea what has caused the outbreak, don't you... Misssssss-terrrrr Bannnnnnnks!"

Odo didn't like the stretching of Dave's tone at all, at all. He gulped. Felt sweat running down his forehead. His face was hot hot hot but white white white....

"Goobye!" said Odo, as politely as he could in the circumstances, and slammed and bolted the door as quickly as possible.

He trotted at great speed down the master passageway and soon was passing the dining room.

"Hey! Mister Banks!" he heard Halfwise cry.

Odo ignored him and ran to the back stairs and hurried down them, taking three steps at a time. He soon heard footsteps behind him.

"Oh goodness!" cried Odo. "The Authorities are already on my tail!" And puffing in great draughts, he now took five steps at a time.

He had just reached one of his Secret Doors (the one in Cellar 6) when the pursuing feet closed in on him.

Odo turned in alarm.

But it was only Halfwise and Petty.

"What's wrong, Mister Banks?" Halfwise wanted to know. "I saw you running, and as  white as a ghost. Those zombies haven't come to the Front Door of your Smial have they?"

"No, no." Odo said, somewhat relieved he wasn't about to be arrested. "But no time now. Let's get behind this Secret Door... time to explain later..."

"Zoombees?" Petty emitted in dullwitted shock. "Doen tull mee zoombees are ut tha door!"

The Secret Door swung open and Odo hurried through. Over his shoulder he hissed, "Are you coming you stupid Scotshobbit?"

"Boot wot aboot yor fumlee? Do yu wont zem to bee consoomed bie zoombees?"

But he got no immediate answer, for Odo was hauling him into the Secret Tunnel behind the Secret Door.

The heavy metal door clanged shut behind them....


to be continued...  

"If it's not the Three Wise Stooges! Ho! Ho! Ho!"

that's naughty!