The Hard Lesson to Teach

The Great Being, Part 17
Volume 4, Issue 45

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We continue our story of The Great Being, The One Consciousness we each experience as our Self. TGB is having adventures through living out the many lives of Melchizedek and Layla, two partner Agents of Cosmic Intelligence. The place: our own Earth. The year: 200,000 BC. Previous installments.

Is he giving us a chance to fail? Layla asked. And if we do fail what happens to us? Condemned as false gods?

They don’t think of us as gods, Melchizedek corrected her, they think of us as promising material, born witches like themselves, that they will have to train.

He rapidly concocts a plan and paths it to Layla as images because it’s faster that way. She looks dubious but has no better idea and they have to do something.

Following his instructions, she starts to preen herself, smiling prettily, and acting like an indulged princess. She bats her eyes at the shaman, obviously expecting to be adored, and he plays along with it although he doesn’t know where it’s going. He starts to pet her, smooth back her blond hair affectionately, and massage her as if she were his queen and he her vassal.

While this is going on, Melchizedek is telling the story, which is just noise to the tribe; however, the priestesses take it to be music and become a Greek chorus singing contrapuntally with Melchi’s narration.

“Once there was a beautiful princess, whom everyone adored and bathed in luxury and adoration,” he started. By this point the priestesses were in on the game and stroking Layla, and one was feeding her berries.

These taste like caca, she pathed to him.

Throw it in her face, he pathed back.

She’d belt me.

No, I mean it, it’s part of the passion play. But wait for your cue, coming up now –

“But the princess took it all for granted and was not grateful. Thinking that she could get and do anything she wanted,” at this cue Layla threw the half-chewed berry mess in the priestess’ face. The priestess flared up and raised her hand but at a microgesture from the shaman, turned away, her shoulders shaking as she mocked crying and collapsing in a heap.

Play it up, Melchi urged.

Going with the Flow, Layla spat in the shaman’s face, and whacked another priestess with a back of her hand. Melchizedek noticed without turning his head that GLYP was riveted by the performance.

“Her behavior drove away all her admirers and followers and she was left alone with nothing.” Melchizedek prayed for Cosmic Fire Support, at this point unsure what the shaman and priestesses were going to do, and hoping it would not involve permanent damage to Layla’s current body.

But as if understanding the intent of the show completely, all the priestesses walked away in a huff, casting back disdainful glances at Layla. The shaman dumped her off his lap and she fell face forward in the dust, and got up coughing, her whole front covered with mud and dust. She lay there and pretended to weep, and to regret her actions and attitudes.

Melchizedek, without turning his head, noticed that DAH and MAH were being restrained from rushing forward to her by the tribe’s alpha and his other strongmen. The look on GLYP’s face, his mouth open and eyes sad for Layla, seemed to reflect some comprehension of the object lesson, but Melchizedek didn’t want to leave room for doubt.

He pointed at GLYP and spoke in an astoundingly loud voice for a baby, “And this is what will happen to you if you keep being ungrateful GLYP!” The shaman and priestesses turned and all pointed their fingers at GLYP and began chanting his name until he knew exactly what they were all telling him. His normal scornful expression was completely gone, replaced by abject terror and freakout. HAH came to his side and supported him. He looked up at her gratefully. She kissed him and he kissed and hugged her tightly.

Melchizedek had a funny thought.

What? Layla asked.

We just invented show business on this planet.

I guess that disproves the old saw about prostitution always being the earliest profession, she pathed back, wagging her little tushy at him.

TO BE CONTINUED

Best to all,

Bill

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