Andy Warhol Basket of Flowers

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all sought guidance as to the events of this morning. Can anyone among us say he received it?'
The wizards looked sidelong at one another. Nowhere outside a trades union conference fraternal benefit night can so much mutual distrust and suspicion be found as among a gathering of senior enchanters. But the plain fact was that the day had gone very badly. Normally informative demons, summoned abruptly from the Dungeon for a better response, something on the lines of, well, 'No, not the Rite of AshkEnte! Man was not meant to meddle with such things!'
In fact there was a general mutter of approval.
'Good idea.'
'Seems reasonable.'
'Get on with it, then.'
Slightly put out, he summoned a procession of lesser Dimensions, had looked sheepish and sidled away when questioned. Magic mirrors had cracked. Tarot cards had mysteriously become blank. Crystal balls had gone all cloudy. Even tealeaves, normally scorned by wizards as frivolous and unworthy of contemplation, had clustered together at the bottom of cups and refused to move.In short, the assembled wizards were at a loss. There was a general murmur of agreement.'And therefore I propose that we perform the Rite of AshkEnte,' said Galder dramatically.He had to admit that he had hoped