Once again, unless you’ve been living in a cave, or on Mars, or in a cave on Mars, you’re probably aware that the 2026 World Cup is underway.
In the spirit of this, I recently posted a video discussing what is inarguably the best World Cup official song, 1998’s The Cup of Life, gifted to us by Ricky Martin.
In context, the Cup of Life is clearly the World Cup Trophy, even though it’s less a cup and more of an orb on a stick…
(though the original trophy – stolen in 1966 and not recovered – was a more traditional cup-shaped trophy)
Long story short, “Cup of Life” strikes me as fairly evocative of the Holy Grail. Which in turn, calls to mind the word “holey“…
Admittedly, I’m not sure this scene really jives with what we know about the Darkstone family, but my primary purpose here is to make the “holy/holey” joke, and I needed to add some potentially superfluous details to get to my 500 word goal for the day…
© J.B. Norman — Published by Emona Literary Services™
Kat and Dunstana’s quest to follow their grandfather’s journal to find the long-lost hiding place of Saint Artemio’s personal drinking cup, said to have taken on Artemio’s sacred powers and thus able to perform all sorts of miraculous feats.
Their grandfather had made it his life’s work to recover Saint Artemio’s cup. But lately, he’s gotten really into collecting little faience chickens for… some reason. Which then led to him delegating his great ambition to his granddaughters. For… some reason.
In fact, it’s particularly bizarre to leave it to Kat and Dunstana, considering that he has a son who is a full-time professional archaeologist.
The quest has seen the Sisters Darkstone have to contend with bad guys after the cup for their own nefarious purposes, catacombs full of rats, ancient conspiracies, catacombs full of ancient conspiracies, a trek to an ancient temple, discovering that temple being full of both rats and traps that somehow still work even after hundreds years, and then being betrayed by a hot Middlesbrookian scholar.
It has been, Kat reflects wearily, the weirdest Wednesday in her entire life…
But, now, it seems like their quest for Saint Artemio’s holy cup is coming to its end. Kat and Dunstana are in the innermost sanctum of the long-lost temple, which their grandfather’s journal is telling them is the location of Saint Artemio’s cup.
The only obstacle remaining between them and the cup is a long passage through the far wall that only Dunstana is small enough to fit through. Kat has tied a rope around her sister to reel her back if she gets into trouble in the small passage and Dunstana has crawled through to the far side.
Dunstana has been gone long enough that Kat is starting to get worried. She’s right about the start reeling the rope back in when Dunstana emerges through the passage.
“Ta-da!” she Dunstana exclaims happily, popping up to her feet with a dramatic flourish of her hands. “I got it!”
She holds up the it in question: a deep, two-handled bowl with holes all over the bottom.
Kat blinks at her sister.
“Captain Kid, that’s a colander…”
“Right,” Dunstana says with a nod. “You said holey. Look! It’s literally full of holes!”
She frowns.
“I’m a little confused, though,” she admits. “I’m not sure why this is such a big deal. Did Grandpa really like pasta that much? Did Saint Arte…whatever like pasta. I guess we would have, right? He was from Natalis, after all.”
Kat slaps her hand over her face.
“Holy, Dunstana.
“Right. Holey.”
She brandishes the sacred colander.
“H-o-l-y,” Kat says slowly. “We were looking for Saint Artemio’s cup.”
Dunstana stares thoughtfully at the colander.
“Oh.”
She sighs.
“Okay, hold this,” she says, shoving the colander into Kat’s hands.
She adjusts her hat and cinches the rope around her waist.
“I’m going back in.”
She takes a step towards the passage, pauses, and turns back towards Kat.
“Okay, so, what am I looking for?”
“The cup, Dunstana,” Kat says, rolling her eyes.
FYI, in the earliest versions of the story that explicitly Christianise the Holy Grail myth, the grail itself was the dish, not the cup — in liturgical terms, it would have been the Paten, not the Chalice.
As a visual aid, while liturgical patens aren’t usually that big, this version of the Grail would be the big silver dish/bowl in the middle of the table, rather than the cup immediately behind it in front of Jesus.
But, of course, since there isn’t even really much a definitive version of the Matter of Britain to begin with, there are a lot of variations in the details across the different iterations of the story.
Incidentally, my favourite depiction of the Last Supper is Salvador Dalí’s. I’m sure a lot of traditionally-minded people (especially Catholics) absolutely hate how modern and surreal it is – in part because I feel like a lot traditionally-minded people (especially Catholics) hate modern art in general and on principle, but I love how elaborate the visual metaphors in the painting are.
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