The Project Gutenberg EBook of G-r-r-r...!, by Roger Arcot
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net
Title: G-r-r-r...!
Author: Roger Arcot
Release Date: June 21, 2009 [EBook #29194]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ASCII
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK G-R-R-R...! ***
Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
_Roger Arcot explores the fringes of a really never forgotten world,
the introduction to which is an aged manuscript _De Necromantiae_,
and the wish, not too repressed, to pledge your soul to the Devil!
There are many strange memories and unhappy frustrated souls in this
Fantastic Universe of ours--strange and sinister memories and
stranger urges, frightening urges that refuse to die in the heart of
Brother Ambrose._
g-r-r-r...!
_by ... ROGER ARCOT_
He had borne the thousand and one injuries with humility and
charity. But the insults! These were more than he could suffer....
Gr-r-r! There he goes again! Brother Ambrose could scarce restrain the
hatred that seethed and churned in his breast, as his smallish eyes
followed Brother Lorenzo headed once more for his beloved geraniums, the
inevitable watering-pot gripped in both hands, the inevitable devotions
rising in a whispered stream from his saintly lips. The very fact the
man lived was a mockery to human justice: God's blood, but if thoughts
could only kill.
_Ave, Virgo!_
The thousand and one injuries of Fray Lorenzo he had borne as a
Christian monk should, with humility and charity. But the insults, aye,
the insults to faith and reason! They were more than a generous Father
could expect His most adoring servant to suffer, weren't they? To have
to sit next to the man, for instance, at evening meal and hear his silly
prattle of the weather. Next year's crop of cork: we can scarcely expect
oak-galls, he says. Isn't _petroselinum_ the name for parsley? (No,
it's Greek, you swine. And what's the Greek name for Swine's Snout? I
could hurl it at you, like the Pope hurling anathema.) _Salve tibi!_ It
sticks in one's craw to bless him with the rest. Would God our cloister
numbered thirty-a
|