One Fell Short of the Dodo’s Nest
Sister Madly does not need to be baptized- she needs to be exorcised.
It was a day like any other when a benevolent Sister Madly volunteered to participate in the ‘Drench a Wench/Soak a Bloke’ charity event at the Faire; she is, after all, in full support of finding a cure for cancer… or rescuing cats from the streets… or marketing a new potato salad… Whatever charity was to benefit from the event, she was probably in full support of it. Probably.
The rules were simple: for $5 a charitable fella received 5 sponges to fling at a group of women, and those hit by the sponge bestowed upon the charitable fella his choice of either a handshake, a hug, or a kiss. Take a guess which one the charitable fellas were more inclined to choose.
Fortunately, Sister Madly was supplied with lipstick so bright it could be seen from another planet.
After the novelty of bestowing kisses upon those who threw sponges at her face wore off, Sister Madly began planning her exit. There were enough women remaining who enjoyed this type of abuse that her absence would probably go unnoticed- or so she thought. What she hadn’t anticipated was the new crowd now gathering at the foot of the stage, a crowd that was too familiar for comfort. Suddenly, Sister Madly remembered how the word retribution had been uttered to her after having the Dodo arrested…
And to think that only a moment ago, she hadn’t a care in the world.
It wasn’t long after that the bailiff announced that he had a warrant for her arrest for the Distribution of a Controlled Substance. Yes, Sister Madly had been caught trafficking Dum Dums- and to a minor, no less.
Earlier that day, Sister Madly had endured the usual Dum Dum assault, which Skeksis seemed to relish more so than normal. This all took place in front of a young Viking Tot who, upon seeing the candy but unable to reach it, began to cry. No, bawl. Wail. Wail as no barbarian has ever wailed before. A wail that summoned every available Orca to the nearest shoreline. A wail that left no doubt in anyone’s mind that Sister Madly was a greedy little vixen who had stolen the Viking Tot’s candy.
Take the Dum Dum, kid- take it! Take them all!
Oh, Skeksis- you planned this whole thing, didn’t you? You set her up.
And with that revelation, Sister Madly lunged at the Dodo, taking a flying leap from the stage- and into a pile of soggy, spent tomatoes.*
(*From Tomato Justice, where you pay money for some cheeky creature to insult you, and you seek justice by throwing tomatoes at him.)
At least it’s not Riverdance —
You’re right, Sister Madly: that wasn’t Riverdance. By a long shot.
And now you’re charged with assault as well.
Her response was typical of the situation, grunting like a primordial beast on the verge of discovering fire; even the tomato she tried to throw in his direction merely hung in mid-air before landing on her shoulder and splattering across her cheek. Face it, Lady Marinara: the only thing you have ever successfully thrown was a tantrum.
Doing her best to appear undaunted after her whole ‘Face in the Compost Pile’ incident, Sister Madly crawled out of the tomato heap and, much to their surprise, took off running. The arresting officers did nothing but stare after her, as apparently ‘Resisting Arrest’ had not been invented yet.
It wasn’t until few hours and a pint of something later that Sister Madly was able to track down the Dodo. After a liberal application of atomic lipstick, she lunged at him once again with the same ol’ battle cry:
At least it’s not Riverdance —
And Sister Madly plowed right on past the Old Bird and into a bush.
The gods do not approve of this inept revenge sequence, Sister Madly. Nor do they offer you any sympathy. You do realize, don’t you, that you started this whole thing with your appalling lack of knowledge concerning certain events of the Medieval era? Karma, Sister Madly, karma: first, you belly-flop off a stage in front of hundreds of people, then you throw a tomato at yourself, then you round out the attack by torpedoing right past the Dodo and into a bush.
Perhaps your stealth is not what you assume it to be.
POST’S THEME SONG: Kiss Them for Me, Siouxsie and the Banshees