Absolute 80s

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Good-bye. What’s the matter with you, Macgreagor? Do you call that dancing? Cut some capers, man. Use your bladder. Play the fool. That’s what you’re here for. I suppose you’ve been getting drunk at your own bar. That’s more like it! Good, good! Here comes the job, that you chop off your head! Chop, chop, chop, chop. Chop, chop, chop, chop. Everyone must go through, Macgreagor. It’s a game of chance, remember. It’s Holly. Well done. Now, my friends, to the beach. O god of the sea, I offer you this ale as a libation, that you may bestow upon us in the year to come the rich and diverse fruits of your kingdom. Hail, god of the seas! Accept our offering! And now, for our more dreadful sacrifice yo those who command the fruit of the Earth. It’s Rowan. What’s the matter, Mr. Macgreagor? Now, don’t be frightened. I’m a police officer. I’ve got to try and get you away. Hurry, mister, please. I don’t like it here. They’re coming. Do you know what they’re gonna do? They’re going to – Come on, come on. Hurry, hurry! We can escape through the cave. I know the way. Quickly. That’s the way out up there. Come on. It’s through a big tunnel. We seem to have lost our torch-bearing friends. I’m sorry. It was worse than I remembered it. Did I do it right? You did it beautifully. Dear little Rowan. Rowan, darling. Come on, now. Welcome, fool. You have come of your own free will to the appointed place. The game is over. Game? What game? The game of the hunted leading the hunter. You came here to find Rowan Morrison, but it is we who have found you and brought you here and controlled your every thought and action since you arrived. Principally, we persuaded you to think that Rowan Morrison was being held as a sacrifice because our crops failed last year. I know your crops failed. I saw the harvest photograph. Oh, yes. They failed, all right, disastrously so for the first time since my grandfather came here. The blossom came but the fruit withered and died on the bough. That must not happen again this year. It is our most earnest belief that the best way of preventing this is to offer to our god of the Sun and to the goddess of our orchards the most acceptable sacrifice that lies in our power. Animals are fine, but their acceptability is limited. A little child is even better, but not nearly as effective as the right kind of adult. What do you mean, “right kind of adult”? You, Sergeant, are the right kind of adult, as our painstaking researches have revealed. You, uniquely, were the one we needed. A man who would come here of his own free will. A man who has come here with the power of a king by representing the law. A man who would come here as a virgin. A man who has come here as a fool. Get out of my way. You are the fool, Mr. Howie Punch, one of the great fool-victims of history, for you have accepted the role of king for a day, and who but a fool would do that? But you will be revered and anointed as a king. You will undergo death and rebirth resurrection, if you like. The rebirth, sadly, will not be yours, but that of our crops. I am a christian, and as a christian, I hope for resurrection.



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