How to Properly Bow (to Me)
A Guide for Appropriate Worship (of Me)
You may enter.
Don’t look directly at me. Keep your gaze low, near the hem of my bejeweled robe. Try not to stare. There might be a lot of light reflecting off of the jewels. Try not to squint. Neither stare, nor squint. Your expression should be something between confusion and awe. But geez, try not to look so dumb.
Take small, supplicating steps in my direction. Shuffle if you have to. The more steps the better. You can’t possibly take too many steps. Stop! That’s close enough. I’m like, super pure and you are like, super not.
Make sure your feet are aligned side by side, gently touching. Bring your hands together, palm to palm, but don’t clap. This isn’t the circus.
Bend at the hips, keeping your back perfectly straight, knees locked. Don’t let the hands drop faster than the rest of the body. Bow until the crown of your head is pointing directly at me.
By “crown” I mean the bejeweled crown you brought as a donation for my generosity in allowing you to be in my presence. While remaining bowed, remove the crown and place it on the ground before you. My attendant will scoop it up and bring it to me. I like shiny things.
Fall to your knees. I like to hear the sound of knee striking wood. I will permit a grunt of pain or a wince of discomfort. However I will not permit a grunt of discomfort or a wince of pain. Keep it together. This isn’t the theater.
Now put your hands above your head and prostrate forward, laying flat on your belly, your nose the main point of contact between your head and the ground. Go ahead and take a whiff of the floor. It’s cedarwood. Old growth, no big deal.
Pledge your allegiance to me. A quavering voice is prefered. But don’t get all hysterical on me. Tears are prohibited. They may cause my attendant to slip on the cedarwood while gathering bejeweled crowns. Unfortunately, Stu lacks divine balance.
Describe my virtues. Go on. Keep going. Okay enough! I can tell when you’re blowing smoke up my ass. I’m actually quite modest. Did you mention my modesty?
Kiss the ground. Don’t make it too sloppy. A quick but meaningful peck will do. Kind of like how you would kiss your favorite Aunt on the cheek.
You may rise.
Now perform 107 more prostrations.
As you rise from your final prostration, bring your hands palm to palm. Bend at the hips, keeping your back perfectly straight, knees locked. Don’t let the hands drop faster than the rest of the body. Then, as you straighten and unfold your hands, a dove should emerge from your palms, fly towards me, and drop another bejeweled crown in my lap. How, you ask? Figure it out for yourself! Do I have to perform all the miracles around here?
You may now exit the room. Don’t you dare turn your back! Take small, supplicating steps in reverse. The more steps the better. You can’t take too many steps. Shuffle if you have to. If you can moonwalk, go ahead and moonwalk right on out. I love a good moonwalk.
Send in the next devotee. Naturally, the line extends the length of the hallway, down the stairs, out the door, and around the block. Eternal patience is one of my many virtues.
Don’t forget your dove. This isn’t an aviary.
