The loveless are hosting a gathering

By, Afua Serwah Osei-Bonsu

The invitation to Sir Snarl’s elaborate gathering promised free “gratis” and fine entertainment.  The guests arrived an old medieval stone castle, where a buffet was laid out and long table was set with beer goblets with caps, fine dishes, and sparkling silverware.   Sir Snarls in his invitation wished to host those in need, in fact it was , “a deed for those in need.”  The entertainment was meant to reflect on disparity and endeavor to lift those so in despair, they may see the world in a new light.  This was an attempt to bridge the enormous gaps between the aristocracy and the poor.  On this day, Sir Snarls wished to see eye to eye with the people, to feel their feelings, to share with them his desires for their labor.  It was a classic bourgeoise and proletariat affair.  It was a very high, high and a too low, low. So, the feast commenced.

 Chorus:  “The loveless are hosting a gathering.  All the food is spoiled.  Lackluster is on the menu.  Air pudding for dessert.  The downtrodden attended the gathering, and now low is now lower than anything.”

 The host, Sir Snarls invited a jester for high sensation and gritty laughter.  He requested also, Lady Agnes, a fine poet for introspection, bird’s eye, and north star.  First, he must slip it in to the “downtrodden” in regards to his need for their labor and warm their hearts with a brief lamentation about his first love now departed. 

Sir Snarls was looking far superior than his guests in a standing collar, perhaps Edwardian.  His  jacket had a fitted bodice.  He had dark undulating hair.  He wore crisp white tights and small shiny gold bars on each shoe in 24 karat gold.  He contrasted the downtrodden, with their flour sacks, potato sacks, patchwork,  borrowed and mended.  One esteemed guest donned a pair of penny loafers.

Sir Snarls welcomes one of his esteemed guests, “Penny loafer I do say!”

After the guests are seated, welcomed and poured beer, Sir Snarls commences the festivities by singing to the downtrodden:

 “Work for me, cook for me, clean for me!…”  “Early man,” he says, “unrefined and uneducated, bellicose and stumbling, whipping and shouting assigned cultures and color coding, the slaughter, the genes, the brain tape and the cloth of the bull fighter was colored!”

Sir snarls gestures himself as a bull fighter.  The downtrodden look back in awe. Sir Snarls has now got the attention of the downtrodden, who are now hungry for more.

The crowd quiets and Sir Snarls attempts to warm the downtrodden’s heart with a brief story about his now departed first love.  “It is now I wish to share with you this heart wrenching story that will deeply tug at your little heart strings, where even the most blackened heart will recall his own true first love,” wails Sir Snarls.  “We begin to share, to relate and consequently to identify with one another.”

“I  recall  this story of my now departed first love, when in courtship, sitting in a garden, much like a fine oil painting, of “Judah and Serwah in the Garden,” when his true loves queries:

“is it time to go, or is time to know, that he doesn’t love me?  his lips lied to me, no little girls or boys for me- no, he’s not picking fruit from my cherry tree,-oh it’s over, it’s over, its over there, somewhere.”

 He replied to his true love he recalls that, “that you better love me! I am going to pick thee a flower!”

“All raise your glasses and repeat after me!” (Sir Snarls)

“Top of her sweetness!” (Sir Snarls)

“Top of her sweetness!” (downtrodden)

“Bottom of her glass!!” (Sir Snarls)

“Bottom of her glass!” (downtrodden)

“Oh blasphemy! Dumlit, bumlit, cumlit!  Dumlit, bumlit, cumlit!”  “Like white lightning , has struck again!”  exclaims Sir Snarls.

“I bring you now the court jester!” roared Sir Snarls with increasing excitement.

“ The finest in all these lands!”  he adds.

Thunderously clapping the downtrodden while sipping beer.

Entering from a hallway on the right comes a classic court jester.  His attire was that of a harlequin in emeralds and dark purples diamond shapes.  He wore a cap, slightly elfin, with three prongs and bell tassels. His shoes also came to a front point and had bells.   He made bell sounds as he moved like reindeer or Christmas.  He entered holding three balls and once in the center before the downtrodden he does a little footwork then begins to juggle.  All eyes follow his balls.  Then finally he pretends to miss his catch and a ball hits “flour sack” in the head.

“Hey!” screams flour sack, “he got me in me head!” 

The Jester does a little curtsey and dance, wiggles his head around as if to acknowledge the flour sack and his first act.  He retrieves his balls and places them in a small matching harlequin sack.

The Jester pointing to two potato sacks in a slow and sensual draw incites:

“He might go to stick heaven, you don’t deliver”

The potato sacks look at each other, “who me?” 

“You mean him?” “To heaven?”

The other potato sack, “To stick heaven?”

The Jester pointing to a patchwork:

“Patch, I‘ll throw the stick and you can bring it back to me!”

Patch responds, “from where?, why?”  “I guess I could sire” 

The Jester pointing to another potato sacker full of mends,

“And you, YOU, “Mend”!” “What is the third stick?  What is the third stick?”

“The third stick?” asks Potato Sack “Mend”, “What is the third stick sire?”

“Oh Bam-lee-bush!,” says another guest, flour Sack.

“What is the third stick?!”  cries out the Jester.

“Bam-lee-bush!” yells back flour sack.

“What is the third stick?” asks potato sack, “oh, it must be bam-lee-bush sire!”

The Jester pulls a small drum from his sack and plays a drum roll….

“Precisely, what is the third stick?”  “Menage a trois!”

“Menage a trois!” roars the court Jester.

Thunderously clapping the downtrodden

Heckling “the third stick,” heckling “menage a trois!” Heckling “bam’lee-bush!”

“Oh, trois!” “Oh, trois!” “Menage a trois!” said the downtrodden.

“There you have it, precisely three sticks!”  says the court Jester.

Court Jester swings left leg up, returns it,  jumps, bows, swings right arm horizontal as if to point right and follows arm as he exits the stage right while the downtrodden continue to thunderously clap and chug beer.

Sir Snarls stands up and appears center, “Oh blasphemy! Dumlit, bumlit, cumlit!  Dumlit, bumlit, cumlit!”  “Like white lightning , has struck again!”  exclaims Sir Snarls. “I say, an insanely wonderful jester and as delicious and this fine feast!”

Meanwhile, the downtrodden serve themselves from the buffet and begin to stuff and gorge their greedy mouths and speak with mouths full of food.  The downtrodden were eager, poorly socialized, and unaccustomed to outings. The feast was inhaled and gorged within minutes. 

Sir Snarls thanks the court jester, “Thank you for you your lovely performance!”

Thunderously clapping the downtrodden.

“Everyone back to your seats for our guest of honor!  Spoons to goblets!”  incites Sir Snarls.

Cling, cling, cling, cling! respond the downtrodden.

“Silence!” halts all the action, Sir Snarls.

Sir Snarls starts to introduce, “Lady Agnes” the poet, who is draped in a long ivory dress, gathered at the waist with a gold rope tie.  She is dauphine, pale.  She wears rope sandals.  She has a small leaf corona upon her wavy and coiled golden hair.  Agnes stands ready to enter with a tear in her eye as she looks out upon the downtrodden.  She wears a gold medallion which catches the eye of the downtrodden as they eat the rest of their food.

Sir Snarls now standing up in from of his seat at the end of the table says with increasing vigor:

“Now we have high in the mountains of success”

“Bright as our radiant sun”

“Glistening like you know where”

“Something for your unworthy ears!”

“A fine poet! The finest in all these lands!”

“Let me hear a round of applause for this fine poet!” “Lady Agnes!”

Thunderously clapping the downtrodden, some clinging spoons to goblets.

Lady Agnes enters from the right slowly and majestically, regally. She is perpendicular to the buffet.

She stands now center stage on slate stone floor in front of the downtrodden. 

Lady Agnes takes a breath, addresses the downtrodden and acknowledges Sir Snarls and briefly closes her eyes, head falls slightly to the right as she begins to speak:

Lady Agnes:

“Oh, celestial skies”

“Oh, heavenly bodies”

“Pancake or Pear? This planet”

“For this invested God”

“I say, for this invested God”

“Where such all prayers go”

“For when the time comes for you”

“For when you are alone”

“For when no one else can”

“For when you have been lovelessly loved”

“For your defiled daughters”

“The perk amidst sorrow”

“The tall poppy you can’t chop down”

“Your pacifiers”

“Yourself forlorn”

“For you, it is for you!”

“When every liquid you bring me, is your beautiful sperm”

“Every liquid is sacred liquid”

“Every flower is her rose”

“For you, it is for you!”

“Down is the tightrope my friend”

“Down is the tightrope!”

“Oh, Fortunate one!”

“You left them on the side of road”

“Down is the tight rope my friend”

“Down is the tight rope!”

“Oh, Fortunate one”

“When the rain has come inside”

“With every step, the crushing of the ants”

“I say to you”

“Who struggles with his own existence”

“To you within man’s preoccupation”

“Searching his depth for the key to his own soul”

“A soul destination”

“Like a parking place”

“Or a lotion”

“Or a smashed glass”

“I say to you:”


“You have never had spinach like this before!”

“You have never had spinach like this before!”

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