ANST - Santa Viagra IV or Come Ye to the Faire?

[j'lynn yeates]

yet another installment channeled from the west via the clan of the tree 
weasels ... 

'wolf

... "Blood makes the grass grow:, kill, kill, kill!"


From:           	"Weaver, Ellsworth III" <JEW1 at pge.com>
Subject:        	Santa Viagra IV or Come Ye to the Faire? 
Date sent:      	Thu, 23 Jul 1998 13:08:15 -0700

Squire Xerox put aside his filking and started paying attention to young,
wet, and saintly Scullery Greyway. In a borrowed T-tunic and a smile she
started his poor heart thumping with lust other than the blood-kind.
Suppressing any and all hormonal reflexes (period or no), he remembered
that she was, after all, daughter of his knight. You may remember Sir Tain
of Naught as the fighter famed in the lovely ballad "Psycho Knigit". There
was little chance that he would be understanding of any liaison between a
mere squire and his precious first-born. Therefore, need demanded that
Xerox win renown and glory; thus becoming worthy of "courting" said
virginal maid. 

There was in that fair land a ren-faire. Xerox had hoped to fight in the
list and melees therein. To do so he needed a lady to bestow upon him her
favor. He shyly asked Scullery for a token to carry with him into the
(hopefully) bloody fighting. Having no skill with embroidery, she found
her still wet Smashing Bumpkins T-shirt, ripped the "Bitch Goddess" label
from it, and gifted that label to the smitten youth. This token later
caused some confusion when it was enshrined at Our Lady of the 
Asteroids,
Stargate, Ansteorra. Chants of "Our Saint's a Bitch!" are totally O.O.P.
and unauthorized. 

Smallish Aside: Ren-Faires or Renfests are late Medieval / mundane affairs
established by those who seek to emulate the Brindisi merchants during the
Children's Crusade. SCAds of folk flock through the time portal to travel
back to the time of Good Queen Bess. Plague-rats-on-a-stick along with
Renaissance Rooster drumsticks help whet the mundanes' thirst for Coors
Lite Mead and enjoying plays of the Bawd of Avon. Pinewood crusader 
sword
merchants vie for shekels along side of G'dmorrow Kitty lunchpail vendors.
'Tis a miracle of the modern mickle ages. 

Xerox and Tain were part of the scheduled entertainment at the Faire. They
(along with a dozen other fighters) were to fight for an hour or so in the
baking in sun for the edification and amusement of the populous. [ Note:
see "Knights Templar at the Horns of Hattan"]. Scullery was working the
"Sir Joust-A-Lot" booth where mundanes paid 5 dinar each to sit on a log
and bash each other with weighted pillows -- extra-weighted pillows
available for a small additional fee. She also snuck down to the eric to
watch the fighting. It is said that she loved to lead the crowd in the
friendly chant of "Blood makes the grass grow:, kill, kill, kill!" She was
a winsome youth. 

Xerox was having some minute problem with winning renown in the fighting:
he died a lot. 

More on that problem and the progress of Scullery Greyway, soon to be
sanctified as "Santa Viagra," in the next installment: "Can Ye Cut Me Out
of My Tunic Faster?" or "Porta-Johnny's So Late at the Faire." 

PS For those of you who have written in to ask what are the arms of Santa
Viagra, well the collection plate has been empty at the services at Notre
Dame de Mal de Mare so we have not the dinar to send off to the CoH.
However, we propose: Potent, on a Fusil Azure a Greek Column Or. You
heralds out there might comment on the blazon or better arms for our
beloved beatified buttress.



... When we hunt, we all function with one mind
... - Boingo, Pedestrian Wolves
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