(no subject)
The dull motions exhibited by the ceiling fan directly overhead gave me a touch of the divine similar to a time when Jesus once placed his hands upon my body in a healing yet inappropriate manner. Clocks ticked slowly throughout the building, counting down to the very moment of my soul's departure. However, on this seventeenth floor, my quivering frame was left in a vortex where every clock ran backward and recounted time. The dying plants sprung forth with life, the condensation amidst the glasses of water seeped back into their enclosures, the falling sun rose once again, and the moon sank into the ocean.
As my body, drunk with the heat of biblical passion, heaved upward towards what some would refer to as "the light", my brain suddenly began to comprehend the severity of the situation. My overly-Freudian conquest had become more than a simple, foolish liason, and had taken on a much grander stance: I was submitting to a religious figure. A bastard, at that. While some would argue that Christ did in fact have a father, logically speaking, "God" never used his wang. Biologically speaking, the judges are slamming the buzzers.
These leaps of faith always leave someone with the check.
Suddenly, and without warning, my boss barged in. Let me clarify: this man has practically no moral fiber...but my lord-and-savior-screwing adventures left me in no position to be judgmental. He stormed to my desk with a ferocity that would rival even the hungriest hill hippo from Honduras, informing me between disgusted gasps that my resignation was to be expected as soon as possible. In a series of gasps and moans, I informed him that although I was being raped by religion, I would own up to my mistake. After all, no one can degrade you without your consent...or something like that. Fucking proverbs.
"Thou art mine," Christ said, "and I shall do unto you as I have done unto others!"
"No!" I shouted, staring more into his halo than the two eyes before me, "I'll not become another one of your brainwashed victims! You swine! Goddamned sacrificial lamb!"
I seemed to have truly struck a nerve with that last statement. Christ furiously removed his doctrine from my faith, walked down the hall and into the bathroom, and began to wail and cry. In the midst of his sobs, I could pick up fragments of Hail Marys and The Lord's Prayer. Suddenly, I found the building collapsing around me. The large panes of glass lining the structure shattered and blew about like confetti at a Mardi Gras soiree, and the metal beams began to bend and warp. Concrete cracked and collapsed, quite like my patience. I was swallowed by this building, falling to my death and being crushed and killed immediately by several tons of dogmatic bullshit.
I opened my eyes to find that I was in what must have been "hell". Fire climbed towards the sulfuric sky in geyser-form, and the ugliest, most putrid demonesque creatures flew about eating ice cream cones that were sure to melt seconds after purchase.
"Ho, ho, ho, ho..." Boomed a mysterious voice, "you should not have refused the love of Christ."
I saw no alternative, so I simply played along.
"Like George W. Bush before him, Jesus H. Christ now feels it necessary in his megalomania to surpass the grandeur of his father's supposed legacy," I stated, almost proudly, "and I've never been much for helping spoiled playboys brainwash a herd of sheep. You must be Satan, by the way. Pleased to meet you."
"I see you've guessed my name," Satan said, "but aren't you the least bit upset about having your eternal soul plunge into the fiery pit?"
"It could be worse," I replied, "I could be forced to watch American Idol for the rest of my conscious existence."
"Oh," Lucifer quickly shot back, "I will make you suffer. When I have finished with your pathetic soul, you will beg for American Idol."
Things suddenly took a turn for the worse. The flaming pits around me immediately turned to waterfalls, and the singed landscape morphed into rolling green hills. On these hills, what appeared to be hundreds of small woodland creatures dancing in bizarre formations. Several of them appeared to be engaging in mass fur-orgies. Deer on top of chipmunks. Squirrels failing at attempts to sodomize bears. Crickets suggestively rubbing their thighs against innocent sparrows. It was pandemonium.
It was only then that I realized the true meaning of horror. The rumbling sound that had begun to emanate throughout the hills sounded more like a train engine than an approaching storm of bodies, but their shouts soon permeated my senses. What was this place? What the hell was going on? Who was this mysterious mob? Why were the animals having sex?
The mob approached from every direction, spilling forth a seemingly endless ocean of people, all of them clad in white shirts and black pants, ties, and shoes. Some were riding bikes. It then occurred to me that I was soon to be ravaged by an army of Mormons. Oh, the cruel, cruel devil! Before I had time to find cover, I was being barraged with a volley of bibles and early morning Jesus pitches! Did they not realize that I'd already found the guy? The scriptures collided with various parts of my body, leaving small crucifix-brands wherever contact was made. In a matter of moments, I was covered in crosses. The animals had apparently found my chastizing more entertaining than their orgy, and had all turned to laugh at my predicament. I had to find a way out of this mess.
In the distance, paper airplanes were hitting skyscrapers and exploding with the strength of an a-bomb. Flowers were blooming at alarming rates, and the waters were reflecting light in a way similar to that of a disco ball. The epileptics began foaming at the mouth. The quadriplegics wagged their tongues at the sound of the strange sitar music. The paraplegics used what limbs they had left to point and laugh at the quadriplegics. Steve Irwin was prying a barb from his heart. Anna Nicole Smith was boasting about how she'd lost seven thousand pounds by paying a surgeon to lop lard from her ass. Michael Jackson was looking for his nose, claiming a four year old boy had taken it, but asserting that he had never played "find the rocket" with this particular youngster. Van Gogh was attempting to glue his ear back into place, but to no avail. Bill Clinton was haggling an intern, Bush was snorting more cocaine than Tony Montana, and Vladimir Putin was kissing the stomach of every child in sight.
It was in that moment that I decided to fight back. If I was to be torn apart by these monsters, I felt it necessary to make it as unpleasant for them as humanly possible. With a series of heaves, I began projectile-vomiting onto every moving sign of life in sight. The force of my semi-digested meal knocked back masses of bible-beaters, horny animals, cripples, seizure-puppies, and famous-folk. Between Irwin's "crikey" screams and Bush's declarations of my being a terrorist, I felt that I had at least somewhat succeeded. This went on for hours, and I eventually collapsed and died due to dehydration.
Goddamnit, I am so bored.
The End.
As my body, drunk with the heat of biblical passion, heaved upward towards what some would refer to as "the light", my brain suddenly began to comprehend the severity of the situation. My overly-Freudian conquest had become more than a simple, foolish liason, and had taken on a much grander stance: I was submitting to a religious figure. A bastard, at that. While some would argue that Christ did in fact have a father, logically speaking, "God" never used his wang. Biologically speaking, the judges are slamming the buzzers.
These leaps of faith always leave someone with the check.
Suddenly, and without warning, my boss barged in. Let me clarify: this man has practically no moral fiber...but my lord-and-savior-screwing adventures left me in no position to be judgmental. He stormed to my desk with a ferocity that would rival even the hungriest hill hippo from Honduras, informing me between disgusted gasps that my resignation was to be expected as soon as possible. In a series of gasps and moans, I informed him that although I was being raped by religion, I would own up to my mistake. After all, no one can degrade you without your consent...or something like that. Fucking proverbs.
"Thou art mine," Christ said, "and I shall do unto you as I have done unto others!"
"No!" I shouted, staring more into his halo than the two eyes before me, "I'll not become another one of your brainwashed victims! You swine! Goddamned sacrificial lamb!"
I seemed to have truly struck a nerve with that last statement. Christ furiously removed his doctrine from my faith, walked down the hall and into the bathroom, and began to wail and cry. In the midst of his sobs, I could pick up fragments of Hail Marys and The Lord's Prayer. Suddenly, I found the building collapsing around me. The large panes of glass lining the structure shattered and blew about like confetti at a Mardi Gras soiree, and the metal beams began to bend and warp. Concrete cracked and collapsed, quite like my patience. I was swallowed by this building, falling to my death and being crushed and killed immediately by several tons of dogmatic bullshit.
I opened my eyes to find that I was in what must have been "hell". Fire climbed towards the sulfuric sky in geyser-form, and the ugliest, most putrid demonesque creatures flew about eating ice cream cones that were sure to melt seconds after purchase.
"Ho, ho, ho, ho..." Boomed a mysterious voice, "you should not have refused the love of Christ."
I saw no alternative, so I simply played along.
"Like George W. Bush before him, Jesus H. Christ now feels it necessary in his megalomania to surpass the grandeur of his father's supposed legacy," I stated, almost proudly, "and I've never been much for helping spoiled playboys brainwash a herd of sheep. You must be Satan, by the way. Pleased to meet you."
"I see you've guessed my name," Satan said, "but aren't you the least bit upset about having your eternal soul plunge into the fiery pit?"
"It could be worse," I replied, "I could be forced to watch American Idol for the rest of my conscious existence."
"Oh," Lucifer quickly shot back, "I will make you suffer. When I have finished with your pathetic soul, you will beg for American Idol."
Things suddenly took a turn for the worse. The flaming pits around me immediately turned to waterfalls, and the singed landscape morphed into rolling green hills. On these hills, what appeared to be hundreds of small woodland creatures dancing in bizarre formations. Several of them appeared to be engaging in mass fur-orgies. Deer on top of chipmunks. Squirrels failing at attempts to sodomize bears. Crickets suggestively rubbing their thighs against innocent sparrows. It was pandemonium.
It was only then that I realized the true meaning of horror. The rumbling sound that had begun to emanate throughout the hills sounded more like a train engine than an approaching storm of bodies, but their shouts soon permeated my senses. What was this place? What the hell was going on? Who was this mysterious mob? Why were the animals having sex?
The mob approached from every direction, spilling forth a seemingly endless ocean of people, all of them clad in white shirts and black pants, ties, and shoes. Some were riding bikes. It then occurred to me that I was soon to be ravaged by an army of Mormons. Oh, the cruel, cruel devil! Before I had time to find cover, I was being barraged with a volley of bibles and early morning Jesus pitches! Did they not realize that I'd already found the guy? The scriptures collided with various parts of my body, leaving small crucifix-brands wherever contact was made. In a matter of moments, I was covered in crosses. The animals had apparently found my chastizing more entertaining than their orgy, and had all turned to laugh at my predicament. I had to find a way out of this mess.
In the distance, paper airplanes were hitting skyscrapers and exploding with the strength of an a-bomb. Flowers were blooming at alarming rates, and the waters were reflecting light in a way similar to that of a disco ball. The epileptics began foaming at the mouth. The quadriplegics wagged their tongues at the sound of the strange sitar music. The paraplegics used what limbs they had left to point and laugh at the quadriplegics. Steve Irwin was prying a barb from his heart. Anna Nicole Smith was boasting about how she'd lost seven thousand pounds by paying a surgeon to lop lard from her ass. Michael Jackson was looking for his nose, claiming a four year old boy had taken it, but asserting that he had never played "find the rocket" with this particular youngster. Van Gogh was attempting to glue his ear back into place, but to no avail. Bill Clinton was haggling an intern, Bush was snorting more cocaine than Tony Montana, and Vladimir Putin was kissing the stomach of every child in sight.
It was in that moment that I decided to fight back. If I was to be torn apart by these monsters, I felt it necessary to make it as unpleasant for them as humanly possible. With a series of heaves, I began projectile-vomiting onto every moving sign of life in sight. The force of my semi-digested meal knocked back masses of bible-beaters, horny animals, cripples, seizure-puppies, and famous-folk. Between Irwin's "crikey" screams and Bush's declarations of my being a terrorist, I felt that I had at least somewhat succeeded. This went on for hours, and I eventually collapsed and died due to dehydration.
Goddamnit, I am so bored.
The End.