January 8, 1999
All this end of the Millennium stuff us getting
out of hand. It kind of makes you wonder whether
anyone made a fuss at the end of the last
Millennium.
Well, wonder no more. I have in my possession a
scroll passed down through the generations of my
family. It was originally written in the year 999
by my great, great, great, great, great, great
grandfather (give or take a few dozen greats).
Here's what I've been able to make out on the
ancient parchment:
"It is the Year of Our Lorde, 999, at the eve of
the close of the firste Millennium. And I, Stephen,
scribe of the Sun of the Towne of Cowes, have seen
the future, and will now reveal all.
There shalle be great iron birds that shall fill
the skye, taking people to distant landes. Yet
their luggage shall not arrive with them, but shall
arrive three dayes later without explanation.
Such journeys shall last less than an houre, yet
man and their kin must arrive at the Ports of Aire
three full houres before. And there shall be a
great wailing and gnashing of teeth as each flighte
shall be oversold.
And in the evening hour as the Nightingale
sings, a call will come into every man's abode as
he sits to break bread, and a stranger shall aske
if he wisheth to save on longe distance. And he
shalle be much vexed in the answering, as no
refusal shall be enoughe to endeth the plague of
calls.
The monielenders shall build towers unto the
verie skye, and amass gold and riches beyond
measure. They shall take wives with golden haire
and figures that owe muche to the alchemists' dark
art.
And though they have all the riches of the
lande, they will still wish to join together, so
that their pile of monie reacheth unto the heavens.
For suche is their vaniy that they believeth not they could ever be
denied.
The Spice known as Ginger will turn her backe on
wealth, leaving many to wonder if she ever could
sing. Instead she will become the Maidservant of
the perplexing, many-headed beast called the United
Nationes, which roars yet does not bite.
That rare and wondrous spice known as peppere
will be so common across the lande that the Royal
Police who are Mounted shall insist that common
students of the proteste shall partake of it. And
there will be many tears and lamentations in both
its giving and receiving.
Voices shall be heard in all places at all
times. Yea, even in the cineplexes and theatres of
the lande. And it shall be a pestilence called by
many names, including the Mobility of the Belle,
and the Houndes of Fidoe.
Every evening, all in the lande shall return to
their abode to watch glowing visions dance before
their eyes, and they shall be transfixed, although
there be nothing upon the waves of the Ce Be Ce.
Those in the colde lande of Canada shall instead
turn to the Channel of the Fox, whereupon there
will be Coppes and Funnie Bloopers, and much
lechery and fornication shall adorn their screens.
Yet the Bullard and the Benmergi shall be
worshipped, and no personne shall know why. And
they shall cry unto the heavens: "Is there
something here we getteth not?"
And the Leafs of the Maple from the village of
Toronto shall stinketh not, and there will be much
wonderment. Yea, they may even drink from the
forbidden Cup of Stanley.
By this sign alone ye shall know that the ende
is near.
And may Gode have mercy upon us all."
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