Monday, August 19, 2013
New Beginning 1012
“Penarddun verch Morfudd! The reception begins in less than two hours and you are still dressed in that, that …”
Penny jumped and the sleek, Bakelite horn in her hand crashed to the marble floor. The voice boomed like the voice of a god. Or the voice of her uncle and boss, archdruid and head of the Madocian Institution of Arts and Sciences. Same thing, really. And it was true that if she showed up at the opening social event of the year in a capacious men’s overall and dingy white plimsolls, her mam would have her head on a plate.
“Plenty of time for me to change, Uncle. It’s just that there’s something wreaking havoc with my narration for the Cauldron of Rebirth. I recorded a lovely piece, how King Bran received it from the Otherworld in ancient times, how Prince Madoc brought it with him to these shores from Wales in 1170, how it saved the Allied Forces in the Great War by reanimating our fallen warriors, all recited in my most mellifluous tones and … well, listen to it now!”
She propped the horn back in its holder and pushed a button on the stand. A screech of feedback burst from the speaker, a mindless giggle, and ...
...Elvis somersaulted through a momentarily radiant rainbow portal, his pelvis gyrating with the nervous glee of a pre-Prom cheerleader shot through with a thousand volts of hot cattle prod action, his hair slicked back as if coiffured by angels with Don Cheney’s infamous saliva-drenched comb and 50ml of prime coipu sebaceous gland extract.
The reincarnated 50s icon of rebellious crooning and cheesy movie fame brushed down his lime tuxedo and approached Penny and her uncle.
“There’s big trouble brewing in Ffestiniog — and only a full stage production of Heartbreak Hotel at the Wales Millennium Centre in Cardiff will save both your dreams of oratory success and the fate of the kingdom of RuthMadoc in one fell Barry John swoop.”
As the onLlookers Llooked on, Elvis paused for dramatic effect masquerading as melodrama dressed as comic relief.
“Or shall we put the goddamn show on in Swansea? Or Llanfairfechan? Or Betwsy-coed?”
Penny leapt like a gambolling Snowdonian lamb and cLlapped her hands with glee. “It’s the perfect solution for our dilemma, Mr Prestatynley! And while we’re at it, let’s ditch all these ludicrously outdated Bakelite funnel effects and get hip to the point of acetabulum with a dinkily happ’nin’ bunch of spanking new Nexus 7 2s...”
Opening: Unknown.....Continuation: Whirlochre