The Mighty Isis

This week if you get a latte from Isis, Queen of Heaven, Lady of the Green Crops, Star of the Sea, try to have some understanding. They had a PBS special this week on Pompeii, and she really shouldn’t watch that stuff. Never mind all the bad shit that went down in the waning days of her power in Egypt. Isis never really recovered from the catastrophe at Pompeii. The discovery and subsequent excavation of the city and its majestic Temple of Isis has been difficult for her to bear. The record is sketchy, but it appears that the Festival of Worship at the Temple of Isis in AD 79 was a particularly good one; Isis, wanting to reward the people, turned to Mount Vesuvius for some goddess-inspired “fireworks.” Ahem. After her followers’ screams were muffled by hot lava and 60 feet of smoking ash she packed quickly and left Europe. After a long period of unemployment (who wants that on their resume?) she wound up in North America and took a part-time job as An-gu, Ojibwe goddess of protection from tipi mold.
Deity employment is always a struggle for all parties involved; daily interaction with a goddess is a potent cocktail of excitement, worship, and frustration. The other day, I just had to put my foot down about some things. If you won’t reveal yourself, I said, customers wont know you’re there. This isn’t your Temple. You need the tips. When you punch in, you manifest. End of story. Basically, I was like, my house, my rules. I’m no chump for some immortal with some second-rate party tricks.
She shimmered then turned into a floating mass of feathers with a hundred eyes. Then a locust appeared at my feet. Kinda smallish for a locust, actually. Herein lies the somewhat pitiful circumstances that have led to the Lady of the Words of Power needing to supplement her income. I think she was trying to visit a plague upon me. She’s not very good at the big stuff. I needed to underscore my point, I have a business to run, so I very deliberately stepped on the locust. The last I heard, she ran down to the Yahara to fill it with tears. Tears of self-pity to be sure. She’ll be back. She needs the dough.
P.S. By special request, the Mermaid Café asks that those creepy, modern-day followers of Isis refrain from worship at the café.
P.P. S. To our concerned readers: we do have quite a few daily, devoted patrons. Customers are in no way coerced into returning to the café. It just seems to happen that way a lot. I blame the delicious lattes and excellent bakery. Employment as well is “at-will.” David loves working at the café. Occasionally he does seem pale and tired. Scottish people are naturally pale. He’s O.K. Everyone’s concern is touching. And Charlie, well, he’s such a good boy. I’ve rewarded him with a vacation. Colin & Cristen are simple, earnest people who love trees and fell in with a bad crowd. They seem skittish because they’re still learning the ropes at the café.