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The Feast Day of St. Michael
, or Epiphyte, is a raucous and joyous orgy of discipline and self-denial.
Falling on the third Sunday
following the vernal equinox, upon the triumphant entry of Venus into
the House of Gemini and Cancer and the awkward groping of Leo by Virgo,
the obscure holiday still remains one of the liveliest days of the year
in certain isolated cultures.
On Feast Day, adherents to
the Michaelmasian Sect rise at dawn to commence a rigorous five hour bout
of prayer and self-flagellation, followed by a quick acid bath. After
ritual cleansing, the faithful parade through the city, sipping a bitter
cider-hued drink from silver chalices to commemorate the great sacrifices
made by the day's namesake. Abortive attempts to expand the festivities
to other areas resulted in mass diphtheria epidemics in the 15th Century.
Originally born Thamus Kemel
of Alexandria in 862 AD, the famed saint took the name "Michael" upon
conversion. The young man led a leisurely life as a amoral gigolo among
Egypt's bloated and corrupt aristocracy, a period which the saint describes
in his personal diary: "I lead a leisurely life as an amoral gigolo among
Egypt's bloated and corrupt aristocracy."
Thanks to his meticulous writing,
an astonishingly accurate picture of Michael's life emerges, although
most of his pre-ascetic thoughts followed along the lines of, "Tiffany
Atmkitmmohotep sat in front of me in scribe class today; I think she likes
me."
In 878 AD, St. Michael had
a rare and marvelous revelation, also recorded in his personal diary.
St. Michael's writings were until recently thought destroyed the rampaging
barbarians in the 10th century until a translation of "Die Blodensprache
des heiligen Michael (The Ramblings of St. Michael)" turned up in Our
Lady of the Lampshade Cathedral in Gruedelberg, Saxony. The much-debated
entry reads, in its entirety, "My head hurts."
Following this revelation,
St. Michael forsook all earthly pleasures and retired to the desert where
a diet of moldy hallucinogen-laced bread induced strange and terrifying
visions, including a floating city made entirely from opossum hair, an
enormous painted jezebel with octopus tentacle hair, and a potato that
walked like a man.
To escape these demonic torments,
St. Michael spent the next thirty years atop a three-by-three feet stone
pillar, surviving on his own urine. His faith attracted legions of followers
who spent their days milling about the base of the pillar, imploring the
saint to lead his willing disciples to the ultimate truth and avoiding
falling debris.
Finally convinced that had
purged the fearful visions from his life, St. Michael returned to the
city where he ate a barley funnel cake and took a long hot bath. Afterwards,
contradictory reports claim that he was either stoned to death while testifying
to drunken heathens or slipped on the soap in the bathtub. Loyal followers
stood vigil at his grave for several fruitless days before dispersing.
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