MILEY & ME; Our Secret Wedding. Part 3.
Sunday Sermons is proud to at last present the final instalment of the Reverend Hellfire‘s report on his marriage to controversial Popstar Miley Cyrus. Regrettably, due to the poor condition of the original recordings, and subsequent legal action by various parties, much of the text is missing.
MILEY & ME;
THE PINK WEDDING
..and so I survived the helicopter ride with no more than a
simple leg wound, but I knew that out there somewhere the dwarf was already wading thru the paddy fields towards the Temple, with a kitchen knife gripped tightly between her teeth.
There had been bad vibes between us from the start. It wasn’t my fault. I’d even tried to break the ice by sharing some curious historical facts. “You know, I’d blithely informed her, “Montezuma the last Aztec emperor was fond of dwarves..
Had a whole collection in fact. In the end he threw
his favourite from a pyramid
so they weren’t captured by the Spaniards.
The Roman Emperor Domitian
had a pet dwarf too now I recollect..
He used to like to pat its hump for good luck”.
But she’d just hissed at me and started
conspiring with Dougie to plot my downfall.
Meanwhile at the Temple where I rejoined my Intended,
I discovered the “Event Planners” had apparently
been attempting to win an award
for the most-disturbing-Reception-Area
since the Titus Groan Wedding../
..been staring suspiciously for the entire ceremony
at the silk drapes artistically engulfing
the entire length of the decrepit Temple.
Suddenly Miley interrupted the Hindu Priest’s endless droning, by shrieking at a hapless decorator standing nearby..,
“I said Rose, Bitch!
This silk is not -fucking- rose,
it’s -fucking –PINK!
You think I can’t tell Rose from Pink?
I’m from fucking Texas!
Did that Pink Bitch put you up to this?
DID SHE? DID SHE?”
Miley lunged and started shaking the terrified Decorator like a terrier with a rat. Clearly she had somehow formed the idea that her old show-biz ‘rose-noir’, Pink,
had contrived to sabotage her wedding
thru the sordid agency of the Wedding Decorator.
By now I had probably drunk more Absinthe than I should have, but it had had such a soothing affect on my mounting sense of social unease that I was taking long slugs from the bottle even as I was making my Vows.
Nonetheless, despite my impaired motor skills,
I was about to intervene when suddenly./
..police everywhere../.[*text missing*]
a loudspeaker voice warned../[*text missing*]the dogs.
Gunshots and explosions..
..it was then that there appeared over the fringe of jungle trees three military helicopters flying in perfect formation, their rotors whipping the jungle foliage below into a frenzy. The drone of their engines rose to a hideous roar, but even this was drowned out by an even greater cacophony,
a pandemonium of aural chaos,
for each Chopper had two large Bose speakers bolted to the hull, and all six were blaring out
their defiant anthem at full volume.
My wedding already looked like a set from Apocalypse Now
so I half expected the speakers to be hammering out
Flight of the Valkyries, or The Doors.
But no. It was worse than Wagner..
“DON”T BREAK MY HEART!!
“MY ACHY_BREAKY HEART!”
The speakers were turning the Country N Western pop hit into a metallic, 1930’s-style Beer-Hall Polka. Goose-stepping down the Decades, it promised a Reich that would last a thousand hangovers..
“Oh-oh!”, I said,dropping the empty Absinthe bottle,
and smiling drunkenly at my young bride,
“Looks like Daddy’s home
and we’re all in Trouble”.
A familiar voice crackled out thru the speakers in metallic tones, punctuated by the the howl and whirr of the helicopter’s rotors. A rope ladder dropped meanwhile from the lead helicopter..
“Baby girl it’s time to get going!”
the voice boomed out
with all the joviality of Herman Goering
addressing a chapter of the Hitler Youth,
“Fun’s done and time to go home!”
Hand on hip my blushing bride
pouted petulantly, at this announcement.
“You tell yer little playmate he’d better skedaddle
now too if he’s got any sense..”
“Sorry to sound inhospitable sir“, the voice now seemed to be addressing me,
“but I’ll thank you to forget you ever knew my daughter if you know what’s good for you and that you will now take the opportunity to obligingly disappear back into the woodwork with the other cockroaches where you belong“.
the voice continued, speaking to Miley now, who was staring blankly at the Copter, now hovering directly above us, with her mouth open, head tilted back,
“Do what yer Daddy says and climb on up that ladder, y’hear?. I’ve got us both a contract to do a sitcom with a Canadian TV company. I play a show biz father and you’re my zany, G-rated teen-age daughter”
.”..Noooooo daddy I don’t want toooooo!” she screeched and stamped her foot on the stage,
“Don’t make me do another Sitcommm!
she started screaming in rising tones
like a boiling kettle, getting higher
and higher in pitch.
We were sliding from Apocalypse Now
into the Tea Party at the end of
Alice in the Looking Glass.
Despite her tantrum, the next time the rope ladder swung
past Miley, she hooked it dexterously with one hand
and hoisted herself up and into a spin,
so that as the helicopter swung away,
trailing her and the ladder behind it like a heavy tail,
she was hanging upside down with one knee wrapped
around the lowest rung of the the rope ladder.
I must admit it was a surprisingly graceful exit.
The effect was somewhat marred tho by the sound
of her shrill voice shrieking into the night,
“Lets see that PINK BITCH do THIISSss!!”
were the last words I heard my young bride say
as the helicopter bore her away
into the tropical sky,
illuminated by the flash of the flares
and the orange glow of the many fires
burning uncontrollably below.
Of course at time I didn’t appreciate
the poignancy of the moment.
I had other problems.
The initial assault of the Indonesian TRG
had been stalled at the perimeter
of the Temple by Miley’s “Security Team“
but they were now starting to make headway.
The Security Team itself were mostly scarred,
heavily armed, mercenary types.
Formerly employed as FARC terrorists and
they had little respect for Authority, and
as the Cyrus Corp, in its wisdom,
had chosen to pay them with Methylamphetamines
rather than Money, they also had little Fear.
Accordingly, Resistance, though Futile, was prolonged.
Nonetheless I could tell from my vantage point that the
POLISI would soon penetrate to the Reception Area,
at which point the Defences would crumble completely
and it would be every man, dwarf
and transvestite for themselves.
Fortunately I had been chatting earlier
with two of the kitchen staff, who by happy chance
were originally PNG Hill-Tribesmen who had known me
from way-back-in-the-day when I was smuggling
anti-biotics to the West Papua Freedom-Fighters.
They also bore an unexplained grudge against
their Current Employers and had readily
agreed in case of emergency to help me make
a quick exit but warned me that the Cyrus Trust had../
REMOVED AT LAWYERS INSISTENCE
..Then the monkeys started screaming louder than before.
The first explosion was caused by../
REMOVED AT LAWYERS INSISTENCE..
The Indonesian Captain then ordered ../
REMOVED AT INDONESIAN GOVERNMENT’S INSISTENCE
into the flames../
I../ [*text missing*]
..wading thru the neck deep water, knee deep in mud,
trying to ignore the terrible explosions and screams behind me.
I could still hear the Puerto Rican dwarf’s shrieks
above the roar of the flames..
Oh the Horror! The Horror!
“No more marrying anyone under the age of thirty”,
The former West-Papua freedom-fighters/kitchenhands had earlier warned me that Miley../
REMOVED AT LAWYERS INSISTENCE
..then leapfrogging me from island to island by canoe,
and eventually I’d just step casually ashore somewhere
on the Cape York Peninsula and catch a bus home.
So the passport issue wouldn’t be a problem. But the../
..and instead made my way to the Australian embassy, where I explained how I was a respectable, middle-class, middle-age Minister of Religion, who had been waylaid by ruffians whilst
holidaying in Bali and robbed of all identification and documents.
They then kidnapped me intending to hold me for ransom, I told the Consul, but I escaped in the confused fighting that occurred when the Cyrus Compound was stormed.
I shored up the flimsy edifice of my tale with a few choice bricks. As a result I certainly wouldn’t want to be the Puerto Rican dwarf next time they went thru Customs.
And I know the authorities appreciated all the information
I was able to provide them on the activities of Dougie.
In the end the Australian Consul even escorted
me onto the plane.
“Of course we’re working with local authorities
to tie up all the loose ends, Reverend”,
he assured me,
“The one we really want to get is the ringleader.
The one that goes by the name of Jerry..
He seems to be responsible for the whole affair”.
“That scumbag”, I said, sneered and spat on the ground.
“Yeah he’s a bad one, alright” I called over my shoulder,
as I stepped briskly up the steps to the plane.
“I just hope you get the bastard
before he does any more harm”.
The Reverend Hellfire is a practising Performance Poet,
President of the Kurilpa Institute of Creativity Inc.,
and an ordained Minister of the Church of Spiritual Humanism
AND the Church of the Universe.
He’s a lovely man when he’s in a good mood.