Entry 34: in which it all starts to unravel

I am very tempted to say "Dear God". Instead I shall confine myself to dearie me and bleeding bollocking heck. Which part of "low key" does that effing Ghost not understand?

He finds a woman all right, with which to do the cloning /gene-splicing magic on behalf of the lad, but which woman? Well, sight unseen, you're going to say some old biddy with 17 kids who lost count years ago and who is not going to turn too much of a hair, nor her husband either, when some new sprog puts in an appearance.

Err, no. Whatever passes for intelligence in the Ghost does not stretch that far it appears.

Instead he puts a virgin, I repeat a VIRGIN up the spout. The wretched child is not even married. And he chooses the Middle East, the one place on the entire planet where the locals like nothing better than stoning to death those who have strayed from the straight and narrow.

Thus the life expectancy of Mary, for such is the wretch's name, is about 15 rather unpleasant minutes once her condition becomes known to her loving family.

Should Mrs God get wind of all this, she will spend most of eternity making me wish that I could simply curl up in a corner and die. I do envy biological life forms sometimes.

Ghost nowhere to be seen, quell surprise. However for once Lucifer has turned up trumps and in that rather suave urbane manner suggested "Leave it to me Squire".

"What's the plan?" I ask.

"Nip over and exercise a wee bit of MC where it will do most good."

"Come on Lucy, do tell, enough of the mystery already".

"Well", he says, "I've got this yokel in my sights. He is going to find Mary strangely alluring. So much so that minor details like her unfortunate condition will seem trifling. Once they're hitched, well, they can take it from there".

"Good stuff Lucy, well get cracking before the poor lass comes a cropper. And um ..." somewhat gruffly "do appreciate it".

No sooner said that done, and he was off to work his magic on some poor sod. Way of the world, eh? Well that world, anyway.

Alas, it's a racing certainty that this sorry affair is not over yet.

[Editor's note: It appears that MC stands for Mind Control. Discussed briefly here.]