The Shaman is Passed Out as the Village Engages in New Acts and New Wonders!
Posted: Friday, November 04, 2011
by Christofer French
Rain Dancer Associates, LLC
Like an alert Chihuahua knows how to pick the morsels off your chest, and the people of the forest know how to smile at the Visiting Preacher, like the neighborhood knows how to grin at the preachments of the big bad anti-fun talking, hot for blood preacher; the human race has sought its joy in opposing the Resident Authority of Whoever is Talking Big in God's Place.
But there was a time when there where no movie shows, or coliseums, or wooden gathering spots. Once there was just the people surrounding the Village Fire. Once there were dictatorial controlling Shamans, and the whole village determined to set up themselves against him.
That was actually a really fun time. But. It was so long ago! The Shamans were the first hucksters. They had powers, but they were all based upon the tribe's faith. It is ALWAYS THE FAITH OF THE BELIEVER, NOT THE PRIEST, that has the impact. When you could get a Shaman without his bag of tricks but, happily with an erection, the village knew they were in charge.
Imagine! Early in the evening, the tribe does the "square dance". They are polite and the kids have to go to bed pretty soon. The Shaman is still drinking honey/mead - wine - @#$@#&* and some strange brew. Whatever it is, he has also added his mushrooms and stuff that make his state "cloudy". He stumbles around with the teenaged girls which is everybody's signal that the guy is ready for "splash down". The drums go on, the strange singing and the horns blow. The Shaman sits down and smiles. The people get more imaginative. The dancing gets more heavy on the downbeat. The women loosen their tops. The old guys and the young warriors smile underneath their makeup. Boom, Boom, Boom.
With a silk umbrella, and the handle of a broom, boomlay, boomlay, boomlay boom. The Shaman is blotto, perhaps with the assistance of a non virgin or divorcee who knows the weaknesses of the men and has been given herbs made for sleep to slip into the Shaman's last tea....
The drums get big. The horns go loud. The singing starts. "The Shaman is not going to frown on any of us tonight". What a cool song the girls make up. Everyone gets up and dances with whom they want. The young kids are sent to bed, the older women take care of sho shooing the "teens" away. The older teens hide behind the tents with great views and they smile at the Around and the Theatrics.
Then the dancing really starts! Leaping, laughing, pounding the earth with strong deep thrusts. The women fly open accidentally with the freedom of late night fairies. The women check the Shaman. That's all they really need. The chiefs and the warriors have been waiting for this for weeks. Now is the time.
Hours pass and drumming pounds. 3 o'clock in the morning is the time for demons, and so they really lose control. Then at 4 am the liquors and inebriation take over. These are happy people who don't care about the "symbol" of sex, right now, they are doing it. Cuckoldrey happens, but not in secret.
Check the Shaman. He is still blotto. His face is wet in the puddle of spilled semi-alcoholic drink. Now they know he has not been witness. They all give signs to each other. Kiss, hug, smile. Imagine the fun that people could have if there wasn't an oppressor. As the deep breathing of exhaustion and inebriation take the tribe into early dawn, one senses the tilting peacefulness of people who periodically figured out why God gave them ALL THOSE PLEASURE CENTERS!
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Top-level comments on this article: (1 total)Wow! Very discriptive!I had to write that without any extra help from outside substances. But, it was still fun!
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