From the most desolate despair of darkness that one has known to have ever existed and dramatically drawn out in the perception of time that one has always known to relate, simply known as days upon days upon days upon days. One finds themselves now suddenly sight fully sensitive, and alarmingly awoke, to a movement of shadows silhouetted upon the stone walls marching simultaneously in unison. Against this canvas of ancient bricks and black molded sod, precipitously grows the size of these black hooded figures glowing faintly from a light of unknown origin. As they approach, a low humming and whining now reverberate off the back of the eardrums and penetrates the mind, stinging it and penetrating its processes like the prick of a wasp. Now, that sound too begins to grow in its volume as the symmetrical shapes enlarge in size, creeping casually through the darkness and the flickering lights producing shade puppets like a ghost story being told from the other side of the tent during a campfire. Gripped down to the core of the soul with the ultimate amount of fear and desperately trying to fall back into a faint, that is when one horrifically realizes that despite the feeble attempts, it is this new disturbing reality that there is no escape.
Shades turn into figures as a horde of cloaked humans carrying tiki torches now come slowly into view. The small sources of light that broke the everlasting hue of darkness are now revealed. The sound emancipating from their lips beneath their covered robes is both sinister and slimy as it slips its way past your senses and oozes itself deep within the cerebral cord of the brain. Latching itself there, deep within the mind and lingering on and on louder and longer and becoming more unbearable with each passing moment, like a shrill of a car alarm that refuses to stop. The procession continues as the stampede of shadow cloaked figures move past the place where one seems to be tied down. Handcuffed and forced to watch the line of midnight marauders move closer and closer. Soon, it is with great terror and amazement that one begins to realize the malevolent nature of their speech and begin to formulate the noises into audible words with actual meaning.
Crowd: "Sin and Sacrifice! Sin and Sacrifice! Sin and Sacrifice! Sin and Sacrifice! Blood and Soil! Sin and Sacrifice!
As if already the conglomeration of crazy wasn't too much to bear in both fear and astonishment, it suddenly whisks one away from the entombed space one once invaded, and now forces one to follow the crowd onward in its meticulously haunted march upward. Hovering menacingly over the top of their heads as if an invisible angel were keeping watch on the shadowy cloaked figures like a fly on the wall. Away from the city and roads with the moldy stone walls, and out upon a moonlit clearing with this pack of persons in pristine step with one another proceeding its way up further and further upon a hill. More and more packs and mobbed crowds of robed figures come from many directions, all climbing their way closer to the top of that monstrous hill. Everyone, including oneself, being pulled in as if by some tractor beam towards the rising shape of some structure further up over the horizon.
Awaiting them at the very top of this persistent parabola in the ground, rising upwards into the starlit sky, is an insanely massive black church. The distinctiveness of it's rising enlarged columns along the oblong shaped windows give credence to the fact that it is indeed some sort of Episcopalian design. Although, it's dark ambient color and haunting atmosphere would lend suggestion that this church does not hold any wholesome or virtuous qualities. On top of the church is a rising staff sticking very high up over its roof and upwards towards the stars, which now seem to be glowing a brighter and brighter hue of red in the midnight gloom. The very source of what seems like it could only be hell now stares back as one proceeds onward closer to the evil structure. At the very tip of this long pole sticking up into the sky off the black church's roof, a circled ring highlights and surrounds one star in particular. As if the immoral church had been fashioned in this specific location so that its worshippers could bask directly underneath high in its zenith location. A particular star fashioned amongst the constellation Perseus, the one and only demon star known as Algol.......
Shining the absolute brightest hue of red of all the stars around and gleaming ever so hideously in the dark night, as if it were some sort of welcoming winking that grows more sadistically by the moment. Now inside the black church after floating aimlessly inside the giant steel doorway at the top of the hill, the procession lines up one by one, packing in like sardines into the pews, bowing their heads and humming a tune that sounds ironically both patriotic and perverse. As the evil church finally fills, the crowds come to an abrupt stop, raising their tiki torches high and waving them methodically back and forth in succession with their insistent humming.
Two sickly and slobbering looking green goblin-like creatures wheel from behind a curtain a pair of speakers, and within that strange moment while trying to pull eyes away from what one must assume is a figment of the imagination. They must have had two conjoined heads meshed together inside the body of a massive slug with crows type feet that slid on a pile of slime as the scampered away after depositing their electronic equipment. This search with the eyes as they try to stray from the sight of this sadistic creatures, with a pair of wandering eyes upwards, reveals a massive multitude of Olympic Roman type seating in what could massively be described as the largest opera house ever to exist. The entire colosseum from above, huddled together a mass of the black hooded robed figures, looks down and with the rest of their counterparts give way to a cacophony of cackles, hisses, and shrieking laughter.
From far up above, a pair of persons sits in a lone booth, placed in the highest chamber above all the rest of the shadow hooded human figures. The two seem to be directing the beginning of this hideous meeting or what might possibly be some type of sacrifice? They first throw back their hoods before the others, to reveal both to be very old men. Tired and worn out old men, that would probably serve best just to commit suicide rather than dribble down their faces into a demeaning demise. The two approach a pair of solid gold microphones that are connected to a pack of diamond and silk cords. Although this scene may seem incredibly dreary and demented, you can't help but take your mind back to some ironically metaphorical scene from your childhood while watching The Muppets?!?!
Waldorf Madden: "Ladies and gentlegerms, boys and girls, and girls who want to be boys, and boys who want to be girls! Welcome!! Welcum!!! Welcome!!!!!"
Statler Collinsworth: "Whoa Waldorf, I'm just as excited as you are, as should everyone be, as we come here every Sunday to do this same song and dance and routine for the masses to keep these mother fuckers mesmerized and hypnotized!"
Waldorf Madden: "This is going to be a spectacular special week for the super SATAN! fight club, as we will be inducting our newest member!"
Statler Collinsworth: "That's right folks, today we will be inducting the man that's forced more touchdowns on any chicks in the history of mankind! The one!"
Waldorf Madden: "The only!"
H A R V E Y W E I N S T E I N !
Statler Collinsworth: "Stay tuned, as we will be shortly giving out the starting lineups, followed closely by the National singing of the super SATAN!C hymns! All coming up next after a short word from our sponsors!"
Waldorf Madden: "Who the fuck you kidding Statler, we don't have any damn advertisers anymore!"
Statler Collinsworth:"You're right! HaHa! So instead let's just jump right into the action. As will now direct your attention in the north tunnel, down towards the fifty-yard mark, we have our newest recruit, Harvey Weinstein. Also next to him of course, stretching underneath his groin is a longtime member of the club, Mrs. Hillary Clinton."
Waldorf Madden: "There on the opposite side of the field, we have of course the reigning bad ass of all the SATAN! fight club history, Unknown Soldier, along with his manager, Greggo. The two stretching in a similar fashion as the other team. This is sure to be one hell of a rivalry match, as many know Soldier and Mrs. Clinton used to bang."
Statler Collinsworth:"It looks like its about time for the coin toss, but first, we must all show a moment of respect for our dark lord and savior by the National singing of the super SATAN!C hymns. By bowing our heads and taking a knee to show our love for him".
The crowd in unison falls to one knee to give praise to the almighty evil one, all except for one??? Who would dare to defy the king of demons??? Who would dare stand against his almighty power??? Could it be??? Could it truly be???
Waldorf Madden:"UNKNOWN SOLDIER?!?!?! How could he disgrace the very hand that feeds him?!?! How could he be so disrespectful to the very one that gives him infinite bottles of vodka and an endless supply of crystal methamphetamine?!?! How. Fucking. Dare. He!"
Soldier wastes no time by sucker punching Hillary Clinton square in the face and knocking that old hag out cold. He then kicks Harvey Weinstein in the nuts and makes his way over towards a podium in the center of the arena with a microphone of its own, with Greggo hopping along in tow.
Unknown Soldier:
"How fucking dare I? Many of you might be wondering? But I think it's pretty fucking obvious to us all at this point!!! SATAN! has become very, very weak! I refuse to stand for my savior until he shapes up! The rest of you feel and know that his power has not been shining through for quite some time now! I mean, look at you now Hillary, you're a lost soul searching for some sad bit of relevance by writing some shitty book. And you, Harvey, practically raping every female Hollywood actress to ever live and no longer able to get away with it. It's just about as fucking sad and pathetic as everything Reeve Gordon has ever done. Not just in wrestling mind you, but just existing as a breathing waste of space in general. I've officially wasted enough of my own time by spending two fucking sentences on the insolent .
Have you seen what he has done to me, my fellow SATAN! supporters. Left me high and dry and in fact deserted me, leaving me to lose to the likes of Peter Gilmour! Now I have to wrestle in undercard matches with ! PEOPLE! Listen to me and listen to me well, although my former tag team partner Doc D'ville can search every trashcan from here to Sesame Street until he finds nothing but Oscar, he most certainly will never find me dead. Pay attention Doctor, and follow along with my silly little SATAN!TES. I will never die, for I am eternal 666 times more powerful than even Peter Gilmour can ever imagine or even dream of. In the darkest shadow in the furthest recesses in the back of all your minds I have always been, and it is in there that I forever will be. Watching. Waiting. Commiserating nothing!"
A lightning bolt crashes into the top of the pole on the roof of the dark church and the scene evaporates back into nonexistence.
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