There is only chance. Life is chance. Death is chance. Chance is chance. It is all chance.
When the holy Ju-Ju awoke his fate had been decided by chance.
On the flip of Smudge’s double eyed coin – flichinggg - the Holy Peanut was his at last. His wan, warped, waxen face broke into a bared-bayonet beaming smile; Count Flavius was defeated - at least for the here and now and maybe for the hereon hereafter - Amen.
" Grrrrrrrrreeeeeeerrrrr! I weel be back. Eee will be mine. I shall ave is hoodoo-voodoo. You may ave the voodoo-hoodoo heart Smudge but only for the now, it will be mine. You’ll see, iz mee, you ave not seen the last of Flavius, I shell be back."
With a stoic, stony, septic, sceptic, scheming smile Flavius turned and rapidly walked away. He didn’t look back, he never looked back – forward facing Flavius frantically flew from fate, firmly fixed futures fast figuring in his mind, besides he knew that if he were to turn he’d see that smile of triumph on Mr. Smudge’s smuggish face and pleasurable paroxysms playing, prancing; pure palpable patterns of victory in his eyes - and that might prove too much.
As bid, the amazing Strongo carefully lifted the holy peanut from the ground and carried him into the dark maw entrance of the circus tent. Smudge’s show, ‘the greatest ever’ as the banner declared, had much ‘Superbo Stuffs’ - the Whirling Dervish whirled, the Flying Fellinis flew, Strongo could lift an elephant, Zorrow would pierce his scarified scar of a body with a thousand swords… but these were all small beer, potatoes, fry and wonders to the miracles that the JJJ must be persuaded to perform.
The crowd would be in an anticipatory awe, amazed, arrested, artfully allured, awfully alarmed and all actually alliteration armed by his wonders to perform. With practice the Peanut would make perfect his miracles to perfectly perform them daily… Ker-ching!!!
Performance is performance - and so to the sausages…
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