Sinister: War!

[Jay Eckard]

Friends, Sinisters, Countrymen, Lend me your Ears:


  Miss Laura Llew pondered:

" Will the two proposed picnics merge into one HUGE prospectful picniciking 
force or will there be a battle of the picnics - complete with food flinging 
and ant cheerleaders? If there's a fight, then I'm siding with Eric and 
Jay's picnic. They might be gay and might not know how to fight but at least 
all battle plans will be executed with style. Actually, I take that back. I 
hear GayJay wields a pretty mean foil. Personally, I just want an 
opportunity to yell, "Parry his flank!" in public. Heaven knows that my life 
already suffers seriously from absence of blade as it is."

   I think we all know the answer to this. OF COURSE there will be a huge 
fight. 
More-vicious-than-two-girls-with-chips-on-their-shoulders-and-long-fingernails-to-boot-type 
Big.
   And as no one else is signing up to do it, I nominate myself El Supremo 
Generalissimo of the Sinister forces.
  As I see it, we will muster at dawn. We will arrange are forces thusly 
*marks in the ground with his patented pointing stick* Our pikemen here in 
four rows at the front, and flanking them behind on each side, the shot. I 
recommend matchlock harqebuses, as they are dependable in battle, unlike 
these new-fangled muskets and flint lock rifle. Behind the pikes, arranged 
in several rows, the Infantrymen, and behind these our mounted men.
  We strike at dawn, moving to take over their Picnique encampment. I'll 
have some rousing speech ready. Something noble, "... that on this day of St 
Picnic Piciannic, we shall all stand a tip-toe and rouse ourselves at the 
name of Sinister!" And then we will all charge into battle under the cry 
"Cry God for Honey, England and St Geroge!"
  Of course, there will be some resistance. When a few men fall back, I'll 
have another speech all ready to go: "Once more into the Breech dear 
friends, once more into the Breech or fill up all the walls with Our 
Sinister dead!"
  Since god is obviously on our side, we shall win. I will be humble, 
allowing hymns like the Te Deum and Laudamus be sung, but will gentle remind 
you that France is now ours. We will split all the booty, Tuna Sandwiches 
and such and drink Diet Coke well spik'd with Rum. We shall have 
mirthsomeful tidings of dancing and music. We may even let theh Bowlie join 
in.
  Oh yes, it shall be swell. And I will marry me the Bowlie princess and 
everything will be swell till that French bitch Joan of Arc fights back and 
my kid gets killed.

  Oh.

  Wait.

  I'm confusing myself with Henry V again. Dammit. Man.

Well anyway, I recommend beatin' some Bowlie.

GayJay




--
"The Posby falls into a Trance
In which it does a little Dance."
                     Edward Gorey

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