I'll build my own Republic, with black jack and hookers. In fact, screw the Republic!

2014/09/08

The Space Saint

These are the chronicles of our trip to Malta and our narrow escape from the Maltese outerspace religion. The Maltese are a round (rotund?) humanoid race that inhabit a set of small hot islands south of southern Italy. They are primarily limestone miners and enjoy overcharging for cocktails. In their spare time they devote themselves to the "Space Saint". They believe that Saint George rode his horse to the moon to slay a moon dragon. This was such a laborious task, that came at such effort, that by the principle of holy exchange the Maltese people now have divine pardon to not exercise ever again. Similar to how Jesus' sacrifice gave an everlasting get-out-of-sin-free card, the Maltese now are not required to walk anywhere. There has been some evidence to back the story:

Such is their adoration of their Idol that they hold a lush celebration to honour his moon mission, where eating+drinking is kept at a high and moving to a low.

This food debauchery not only heightens his popularity, it also is an excellent occasion to eliminate non-believers. They made quick work of this one ...

The children carry out the executions as they are believed to be holy and are the only ones allowed to move in any significant way. Rob openly contested this, by whispering it to Art. After all, we had known Vitor (the buried one) for quite some time and had grown fond of him. He also said he would buy the next round.

Though we were somewhat shaken by Viktor's passing we continued to feast on the local delights, after all we had to get the most out of the ryanair flight to Malta. As outsiders we were clearly unwelcome so we camouflaged ourselves by swelling our bellies with food. This did work temporarily, much like confusing zombies by smearing rotten flesh on your body, until the ritual changed: the lights in the town started to flash in a simple monotone pattern and in response the locals fell into silence. A single trumpet player began.

We understood then that "Saint George" was coming. Space slime came gushing down filling the land, the locals squealed with joy shouting "here comes the GOZO" and did not run or swim away. Suddenly it all became clear, the gorging, the laziness, the aversion to walking, the island's name, the Gozians knew all along! ... they were preparing to offer themselves as a chunky sacrifice (what a honour for Vitkar!).  

The slime was dense and sticky. We looked at each in disbelief and with disgust. Before we could panic we remembered Vitor's last words: "don't take my swiss army knife". We opened up his knife and fumbled through the tools looking for something useful, and just our luck, there was a set of kayaks.

And just in time, as Saint George sent down a horde of moon monster jelly fish to feast and pre-digest the Gozians. This nutritive goo empowered Saint George, and he was furious that we narrowly escaped his warm wet blessing.

Our escape caused much stir in the heavenly council, for Saint George's power was on the rise, defying other demi-deities and getting his splogy gozo all over the heavenly hang-outs.

The verdict was unanimous: execute plan "beat up the popular kid", last put in to action in the days of Lucifer's fall. The problem was passed on to the Jesus League (of super Christian countries), who in turn, appointed Brazil to the task.

Brazil charged the most notorious Brazilian duo in the Ministry of Weird Religious Affairs (there are many ministries in the Brazilian government) known as Cafe com Leite (coffee with milk), with the take down of Saint George. These two special agents go under the code name Branquinha e Branquela (little white one and the whitey). They in turn subcontracted (a lot of that too in the BR government) two dangerous sea pirates, who in exchange for their services, could take any bounty encountered on the mission.

They set out in their rubber Kayaks, which were experimentally verified to protect against the gozo, into the newly formed gozo sea. The pirates were well equipped with harpoons, aquatic sea battle axis, robotic Jellyfish  exterminators and their slick black speedos (known to confuse Jellyfish as they perceive them to be black predatory sea snakes). The cafe com leite duo brought a bottle of cachaça and a bag o' lime, confident that the speedo pirates had it sorted. Let the Jellyfish Jihad begin....

They first launched a full frontal attack with their sea adapted Battle axes, in their rough medieval style for which they were well known. The Jellyfish dispersed.

With drooling aggression the pirates pressed on, firing their harpoons and swinging their axes and junk alike. Team Brazil sliced some limes. Despite the onslaught, the jellyfish numbers only increased. They started to huddle together into strange formations, submerged in the gozo they were increasingly sticking together. 

Was this a last desperate attempt to enjoy life before the pirates took it away from them? or were they....no....oh wait, WHAT IS THAT THING!?

                                                                    

In  power-ranger style, the Jellyfish had formed Jellygozord. The Jelly giant turned to Cafe with an evil gooey intent. The pirates charged over and Cafe, in a last heroic feat, tried to down a shot of cachaça before she went down. Though due to shaky hands (she was not afraid, she feared nothing, but she had already had a few shots) spilled her cachaça into the sea. Jellygozord instantly dissolved. A chain reaction broke out, Jelly fish turning into a clear transparent liquid. Even the gozo sea changed in color from its whitish tint into a clear blue. "Fascinating" said one of the sea pirates, as he leaned over to try a mouthful of gozo to realize it had been transformed into drinking water! 

The team rejoiced, finishing a few bottles of cachaça, spilling some over for good measure, and returning to shore only late the next day (turns out that the Pirates considered Cafe com Leite to be part of the bounty).

This adventure would then go down in the book of legends as the day when the world was saved from a shortage in drinking water, and no one had to ever hear a NGO moan about the water crisis ever again.     

Happiness and a safety ensued.....but would it last?
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-- Xeno and Robert --

Por: Xeno @ 12:41
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Copyright Deborah Happ 2007