A Plague of Effigies
With 2014 drawn, quartered and stuffed safely down the garbage disposal, Sister Madly has decided to embrace the New Year with a new pair of fuzzy socks and some freshly sharpened machetes.
And one Old Acquaintance who refuses to be forgot.
Like most of the population, Sister Madly was looking forward to leaving that rotten year behind; in fact, she didn’t think things could get much worse- that is, until one morning last week, when this effigy was delivered to her by
Tallulah an agent under the guise of holiday cheer:
It was one thing when the Dodo was attacking her on his own power, with search engine terms and exploding onion containers, but now he’s involving innocent parties and she just will not tolerate it. Why, some of you have even sent her Dodo pictures, which she chalked up to your murky sense of humor- and couldn’t help but admire- but never once did she wonder whether or not the Dodo was behind that onslaught.
But are they really innocent parties, Sister Madly? Did you ever stop to think that maybe, just maybe, they know exactly what they are doing? Consider the evidence, Sister Madly, the batting cages and driving ranges and the ever-increasing I just happened to have chopped some onions right before you got here coincidences. You can‘t deny that those smiles have been anything but hollow as of late, or that there may have been more behind the wicked glint in their eyes than the usual Christmas Mischief.
Yes, Sister Madly: the Tofurky just got real.
Perhaps she is to somewhat blame. She should have taken precautions against this epidemic by supplying her friends with Dum Dums and anti-Dodo propaganda. She should have warned them of his charisma and his trickery. She should have given them peanut brittle.
But then came this horrifying thought: what if her friends had accepted this invitation into the Abyss not by the Dodo’s usual deception, but of their own free will? One really couldn’t expect much else from a crowd who is genetically drawn to Hall and Oates. It wasn’t long before they were stenciling birds on their kitchen cupboards and feeding the ravens cat treats- the Christmas Party was just lousy with Dodo Worship with a flagrant display of such rituals. Apparently, all one needs to achieve low-ranking divinity here on earth is to adorn oneself with a crow’s beak and a black nightie. Who needs integrity when you’ve got loads of style and a jar full of leeches?
But even as Sister Madly lamented this betrayal of loyalties, she found herself succumbing to some inexplicable force that compelled her to do this to a photo on her refrigerator:
No, Sister Madly- you cannot start having fun with this effigy. That is a sure sign that you are falling under his spell; one might even say it is the first symptom of the Plague, itself. It won‘t be long before you are building altars and sacrificing Dum Dums in the name of the Dodo, declaring how you would give your right hand for the honor of his blessing.* Come Halloween, you will be happily terrorizing the town in his very image- and did you notice, Sister Madly, how you just smiled oh-so-slightly at the thought? There was a time when this would have worried you.
*Well, somebody’s right hand, anyway.
You know, lobotomies only sound scary…
Faced with the possibility of an outbreak, she decided that the best way to safeguard against the Plague is to lay low and avoid contact with those infected until the epidemic has passed. Should you be in need of Sister Madly, she will be curled up inside your sock drawer- just give her a cider now and then, and she’ll behave herself.
POST’S THEME SONG: Birdhouse in Your Soul, They Might Be Giants
Image 2) skia.deviantart.com