(From Absinthe Heroes, my rock opera. The Mayor is a Lovecraftian cultist, perpetually frustrated that he cannot summon the Elder Gods. “Chas” is “Dr. Chastity”, a Good Mad Scientist; Captain Adastra is The Gallant Captain; he was, ironically, played by my ex-husband, who is the least gallant human being on Earth; life is full of ironies. The song “Love Marinade” was set to music by brilliant musicians who wish to remain anonymous because the Illuminati are out to get them.)
MAYOR (As NARRATOR): O thou glorious age, when we may leap from the laboratory of spectacular Discovery, to another. The many great minds of our times! Blessed are we! Or, you know, blessed would we be, if there were gods. Or ancient evils. Which apparently there aren’t. But I have no bitterness or anything. Besides, I have chosen, as my successor, the village half-wit, and the thought of what he’d do with this office is enough to keep me going.. But I digress! And now, we repair to the modest laboratory of our modest lass-of-science, where she is having a last-moment strategic planning meeting with the pilot of the airship she designed!
ADASTRA: I say, this is dashed exciting.
CHAS: I do positively tremble.
ADASTRA: Science!
CHAS: Science!
ADASTRA: Adventure!
CHAS: Adventure!
ADASTRA: Love!
CHAS: Goddess, no.
ADASTRA: Don’t you yearn to experience romance’s sweet fragrance?
CHAS: I’ve tried it. Smells like licorice.
ADASTRA: I hate licorice.
CHAS: Scientifically speaking, only psychic perverts and the mentally deformed enjoy licorice.
ADASTRA: I avoid the stuff. Jogs your gun-arm, makes you moony.
CHAS: Licorice?
ADASTRA: And love. I mean, love is pleasant and all that, but…
CHAS: Not something you’d want to try for several weeks consecutively?
ADASTRA: It pulls a close second to rickets.
CHAS: I am for spinsterhood, but, should social position require it, I shall, instead, marry a homosexual.
ADASTRA: It is possible that, by the time you must marry, your emotions will be ready for it.
CHAS: I might say the same of you.
ADASTRA: It’s my deepest hope. Given time, I shall wrench myself away from bachelorhood. One must let the heart, metaphorically, marinate. I attempt to prepare myself: the spices of excitement, the herbs of good clean living, the cooking wine of inordinate amounts of Russian alcoholic beverages….
CHAS: Yes – my poisons are different, but my aims similar. Love marinade.
ADASTRA: Love marinade.
“Love Marinade”
Love marinade,
Love marinade
Love may be proof that there is no God
Give the snake a fruit; snake wriggles anew
When you kiss the Abyss, the Abyss
Kisses you
Love is like a beautiful day
A beautiful day that’s out to get you
Love is like some misgenerated beast
With enormous claws, who wants to pet you
Love marinade,
Love marinade
Save your love for some less fortunate sod
Garden of Eden, what did you do?
Sometimes a heart is just something to chew
The heart needs a careful touch
Without marinating, it’s harder than flint
The heart needs to be carefully prepared
Braised lightly, and garnished with basil and mint
Love marinade,
Love marinade
Love may be proof that there is no God
Give the snake a fruit; snake wriggles anew
When you kiss the Abyss, the Abyss
Kisses you.
CHAS: Of course, we could also be lying.
ADASTRA: What’s love got to offer that cholera can’t?
CHAS: I hear it’s better for the complexion.
My name is Jeff Mach (“Dark Lord” is optional) and I build communities and create things. Every year, I put on Evil Expo, the Greatest Place in the World to be a Villain. I also write a lot of fantasy and science fiction.. You can get most of my books right here. Go ahead, pre-order “I HATE Your Prophecy“. It may make you into a bad person, but I can live with that.
