Tuesday, November 14, 2006

The god of false consciousness cleansing

You are a biscuit-making love-lorn religious freak. That’s what you tell yourself as you cry yourself to sleep each night.

Your father is the awesome patriarch of the secretive Third Dawn cult which finances its proselytising activities by running a biscuit factory on the outskirts of Melbourne. Because of your father’s position within the cult, you have the powerful job of floor manager at the factory. But there is more to life than biscuits or messianic flying saucers from the Horsehead Nebulae, you tell yourself!

More than anything you yearn for love. But you work long hours at the factory and are only permitted to socialize within the cult. In three years you will be married to a cult member you have not met from Oregon.

You rebel in the only way you know how – by mixing biscuits. You spell out I-LOVE-YOU in Chocolate Surprise alphabet biscuits (the surprise is there’s no actual chocolate in them) and then drop these biscuits into a soon-to-be sealed packet of Honey Goodness alphabet biscuits (there’s no goodness in them, honey or otherwise).

Soon you’re dropping messages into packets fifty or sixty times a day. LOVE-ME. I-NEED-YOU.TAKE-ME-AWAY-FROM-ALL-THIS. I-HAVE-NEEDS-TOO-DAMNIT.

Little do you know that a single mother of three and anagram whiz in Box Hill is spelling out all your messages on her kitchen table. The messages touch her and she resolves to find out who is sending them (and then fall in love with them if possible). However, her phone-calls to the factory are met with open hostility.

So she tries a different tack. She begins writing letters of complaint about the quality of the biscuits with hidden messages:

Dear Sir

The sour taste I encountered in your box of Succulent Strawberry Alphabet biscuits has made me return them. Your quality is normally better than this – I have some affection for the company going back many years now. But I have not been thrilled by recent developments.

If you would like to discuss this further please call me on 9794 5623.

Yours etc.

You are incensed by all these letters. There has been no drop in quality! And then you notice the messages in each and every letter and your heart races. You arrange a meeting with the letter-writer and your spine tingles as you sit across from each other on a park bench. You both immediately sense that a beautiful relationship could blossom between you.

But you tell her that you could never really, truly love someone who is so disparaging of your life’s work. So you thank her for her interest and go back to your factory. One year before your arranged marriage is to take place, the flying saucers come for you and take you to the Horsehead Nebulae where you no longer have to make biscuits. Things are better there.

You walk up to Moluku, Third Dawn god of false consciousness cleansing and thank him personally for his intervention.

Moluku responds: don’t mention it.

Thanks be to Moluku, god of false consciousness cleansing!


elsewhere said...

You are a relentless fan of the second person...

Have you ever read Italo Calvino's _If On A Winter's Night A Traveller_?

nick cetacean said...

You are right, you are asbsolutely right.

Started it, never finished it, you know?

redcap said...

Has anyone ever finished If On A Winter's Night A Traveller?