Entry 39: in which despair seems a measured response

Somewhere in the universe the expression "Just when things could not get worse they do" will spring unbidden to the lips of a sentient creature. In the event I should like to seek out that sentient creature and commend it for its wisdom, its economy of expression and its prescience.

Whether that event has passed or is yet to be, I plan to apprehend the expression and make it my own. Indeed, I utter it now: "Just when things could not get worse they do".

Readers will be aware of several things:
- the boy is off to do a spot of space tourism
- his mother is displeased
- the quality of my life is compromised
- said tourism was to be a low-key event
- thanks to the maladroit Ghost it is not low key
- and now the whole wretched business might as well be adorned with tinsel

So what has gone wrong? Why not ask what has gone right? The answers are much and little respectively.

First Metatron takes the opportunity to put in an appearance, not here in the Realm, oh no. Here he has been been conspicuous only by his absence. Instead he chooses to materialise on Earth, where, for reasons I cannot fathom, he wanted to be "in" on the birth of the lad as a biological entity.

Anyway, thanks to a teeny weeny error in his space-time coordinates he lands bang centre in a group of nomadic herdsmen looking after a bunch of sheep. Needless to say they are scared crapless, not only by Metatron's rather frightful appearance, but by the shower of ionised particles that accompanied him, causing the environs to light up a trifle, given it was night and all.

Instead of dematerialising pronto and leaving them to wonder if they imagined the whole thing, he starts bleating on about glad tidings etc, to whit, promulgating the very events that I am so desperately keen should be low key.

"Just when things could not get worse they do". Again! Things are now at an astonishingly low ebb. But wait! That ebb can get lower yet! Cue the Ghost.

You will recall that it is the Ghost who has done the the necessary gene splicing to cause that rather sorry virgin to become pregnant, and has been trailing the lass and her paramour as they head towards Bethlehem. What has he managed to do? Caused a massive plasma flare, that's all. OK. It does happen if you dimension-shift in a hurry. Even I have been known to set the odd bush alight in this very manner. But for goodness sakes!

This flare is relatively stable, can be seen for miles around, and looks to last days if not weeks. Even the dull hominids that inhabit Earth were unlikely to miss such as event and sure enough, it has stirred up both fear and excitement in equal measure.

I am reliably informed that some top honchos have been dispatched in the direction of the flare laden with gifts with which they are to buy-off or otherwise placate whatever supernatural happening is to be found there.

I look forward to my next meeting with the Ghost. But it is unlikely that he shares my enthusiasm.