My Essay For Classical Mythology
I wrote a humorious and SATYRical account of my live and growth for the myth due today in my classic mythology class. Without further Adue, here it be:
The First Church of Revelry, or From Satyr to Silvini in One Easy Step.
It was early in the morning, following the spring equinox. More specifically it was March 22, 1978, at 3 o’clock A.M. The twilight was but a few short hours away, when the lights momentarily sputtered out in Corydon’s only hospital. In that brief amount of time, before the lights blazed down again in their sterile florescent glory, there was a tell tale smell of animal musk. The sound of cloven hooves running along the ground was muffled by the ecstatic cries of aroused nurses and labor screams of delivering women. Then as quickly as it began, everything appeared to be normal once again; everything that is, except for the fact that when they counted the children in the nursery, there was one too many. Sister Mary Frances screamed, and to this day she swears the devil was born in Corydon that day. The report on her psychiatric evaluation will read as follows: “Patient claims child had horns and an erection when it then winked and licked its lips at her. Obsessive religious paranoia is one possible explanation. Isolation and heavy sedation recommended.”
One week later, in a quite residential neighborhood in Indianapolis, the phone is ringing. “Hello…Yes this is Mrs. Miller…Of course we are still looking to adopt, but I thought there was a wait? …No, not at all, absolutely we want him…of course we can be there tomorrow…ok, good bye.” Little did they know, the child they were about to adopt wasn’t entirely human. The child was in fact, a bastard son of Pan.
Several years went by and the young satyr grew. No one seemed to question his thick full hair. No one said a word when he needed to shave every day in 5th grade. He was good at everything he put his heart to, but his attention waned constantly. He painted, he drew, he wrote, he read. Everything he did, he did with reckless abandon of all else. Then he would get bored.
He was in his late teens when he discovered women. Suddenly these creatures were all he could focus on. His constant advances where usually accepted, and this is when he discovered kissing. After kissing, came groping. After groping, well there was biting. After biting, was clawing. Soon he was kissing, groping, biting, clawing, and having sex with every woman he could get his hands on.
Sex had become his life. If he wasn’t fornicating, he was drinking. Usually he was doing both. Everyone he met either loved him or hated him. There was no gray. People followed him to see what he would do. His desire to appeal to the masses drove him to wilder and more shocking acts. He was consumed by his actions. He carnal desires grew more and more insatiable. Then the voices started.
The voices told him they needed him to help them. One claimed to be his father. They said he had the strength to awaken people’s passions. They asked him to start a church. They asked him to teach others to live as he did. He agreed.
The voice that was his father, told him of days long ago. He spoke of a time when the gods walked the earth and man believed in them. He told his son, that the only way he could live was if people believed again. The church of Revelry that was how belief could be gotten.
Pan and Dionysus taught him what to do and people began to follow. There were parties and festivities every week. Things were going according to the god’s plans, until the reverend or revelry began thinking. There has to be more to life he thought. Sex isn’t the end all be all. There has to be more.
Reverend Jakk De’Vile that was the name he called himself now. His life was still filled with sex and booze. If he wasn’t drinking, he was rutting, but usually it was both. His forehead began to slope more, and horns protruded from his scalp. His odor was reminiscent of a Nevada brothel. He did sermons two and three times a week, and they always ended in a drunken orgy. Something was different about him though.
Why wasn’t the reverend happy any more? He was preaching with less zeal. His eyes didn’t sparkle when he was drunk and ranting. Something was defiantly missing. His hair was turning gray. His horns were curling. He didn’t enjoy drinking as much. Sex became overrated. He began searching for answers.
He wandered off and left others in charge of his sermons. Some of his more astute followers seemed to be growing horns as well. He wandered aimlessly, traveling from forest to forest. He stayed away from sex, and drunkenness. Then he heard another voice, this one was a woman. She explained to him that his father only knew half of what it was to be passionate. She told him he would find the answers when he returned from the woods.
He left for home that very day, but no sooner was he out of the woods, when he saw a woman. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She saw him and smiled, and something inside him stirred. He was filled with desire, but it was not of just a sexual nature. He approached her tentatively, and she greeted him. At the sound of her voice, his heart pounded. They began walking and talking to one another. They laughed and pointed at the things of beauty around them. They embraced. They kissed. They touched one another, but in a slow deliberate fashion. They joined with one another. Jakk realized at this moment, of all the passions he had pursued, he had neglected the most powerful one of all. Reverend Jakk De’Vile was no more. Reverend Jack Miller would now preach about a new passion. The passion of love consumed him. Pan and Dionysus were whole again. Somewhere a goddess was lounging on her bed of shells and foam, smiling, because now she too would be reborn.
The First Church of Revelry, or From Satyr to Silvini in One Easy Step.
It was early in the morning, following the spring equinox. More specifically it was March 22, 1978, at 3 o’clock A.M. The twilight was but a few short hours away, when the lights momentarily sputtered out in Corydon’s only hospital. In that brief amount of time, before the lights blazed down again in their sterile florescent glory, there was a tell tale smell of animal musk. The sound of cloven hooves running along the ground was muffled by the ecstatic cries of aroused nurses and labor screams of delivering women. Then as quickly as it began, everything appeared to be normal once again; everything that is, except for the fact that when they counted the children in the nursery, there was one too many. Sister Mary Frances screamed, and to this day she swears the devil was born in Corydon that day. The report on her psychiatric evaluation will read as follows: “Patient claims child had horns and an erection when it then winked and licked its lips at her. Obsessive religious paranoia is one possible explanation. Isolation and heavy sedation recommended.”
One week later, in a quite residential neighborhood in Indianapolis, the phone is ringing. “Hello…Yes this is Mrs. Miller…Of course we are still looking to adopt, but I thought there was a wait? …No, not at all, absolutely we want him…of course we can be there tomorrow…ok, good bye.” Little did they know, the child they were about to adopt wasn’t entirely human. The child was in fact, a bastard son of Pan.
Several years went by and the young satyr grew. No one seemed to question his thick full hair. No one said a word when he needed to shave every day in 5th grade. He was good at everything he put his heart to, but his attention waned constantly. He painted, he drew, he wrote, he read. Everything he did, he did with reckless abandon of all else. Then he would get bored.
He was in his late teens when he discovered women. Suddenly these creatures were all he could focus on. His constant advances where usually accepted, and this is when he discovered kissing. After kissing, came groping. After groping, well there was biting. After biting, was clawing. Soon he was kissing, groping, biting, clawing, and having sex with every woman he could get his hands on.
Sex had become his life. If he wasn’t fornicating, he was drinking. Usually he was doing both. Everyone he met either loved him or hated him. There was no gray. People followed him to see what he would do. His desire to appeal to the masses drove him to wilder and more shocking acts. He was consumed by his actions. He carnal desires grew more and more insatiable. Then the voices started.
The voices told him they needed him to help them. One claimed to be his father. They said he had the strength to awaken people’s passions. They asked him to start a church. They asked him to teach others to live as he did. He agreed.
The voice that was his father, told him of days long ago. He spoke of a time when the gods walked the earth and man believed in them. He told his son, that the only way he could live was if people believed again. The church of Revelry that was how belief could be gotten.
Pan and Dionysus taught him what to do and people began to follow. There were parties and festivities every week. Things were going according to the god’s plans, until the reverend or revelry began thinking. There has to be more to life he thought. Sex isn’t the end all be all. There has to be more.
Reverend Jakk De’Vile that was the name he called himself now. His life was still filled with sex and booze. If he wasn’t drinking, he was rutting, but usually it was both. His forehead began to slope more, and horns protruded from his scalp. His odor was reminiscent of a Nevada brothel. He did sermons two and three times a week, and they always ended in a drunken orgy. Something was different about him though.
Why wasn’t the reverend happy any more? He was preaching with less zeal. His eyes didn’t sparkle when he was drunk and ranting. Something was defiantly missing. His hair was turning gray. His horns were curling. He didn’t enjoy drinking as much. Sex became overrated. He began searching for answers.
He wandered off and left others in charge of his sermons. Some of his more astute followers seemed to be growing horns as well. He wandered aimlessly, traveling from forest to forest. He stayed away from sex, and drunkenness. Then he heard another voice, this one was a woman. She explained to him that his father only knew half of what it was to be passionate. She told him he would find the answers when he returned from the woods.
He left for home that very day, but no sooner was he out of the woods, when he saw a woman. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She saw him and smiled, and something inside him stirred. He was filled with desire, but it was not of just a sexual nature. He approached her tentatively, and she greeted him. At the sound of her voice, his heart pounded. They began walking and talking to one another. They laughed and pointed at the things of beauty around them. They embraced. They kissed. They touched one another, but in a slow deliberate fashion. They joined with one another. Jakk realized at this moment, of all the passions he had pursued, he had neglected the most powerful one of all. Reverend Jakk De’Vile was no more. Reverend Jack Miller would now preach about a new passion. The passion of love consumed him. Pan and Dionysus were whole again. Somewhere a goddess was lounging on her bed of shells and foam, smiling, because now she too would be reborn.