Post by switchfever on Sept 28, 2014 4:43:53 GMT -5
Your vision stutters and fails. The infinite black abyss consumes existence. Groaning hate bubbles up just beyond your unlit feet, permeating a nervous rippling along the surface of the dense nothingness. You sense an enormous mass rising below you. –It kinda feels like a building is falling on you, but ya’know, in reverse. The sensation rattles your grasp of sanity, as it builds to majestic crescendo. God rises out of the sea of ink. He levitates just above the surface before you. -His arms at his sides, palms facing you.
The nothingness rolls off him and pours itself back into the infinite sea of hate. Blinding, white-hot deadlights radiate from just beneath his bloodstained flesh. You try to move your arm up to shade your pussy-ass eyes, but God’s abhorrent will denies you control of your extremities. His benevolence is barefoot and cloaked in jeans with a tattered “Ozzy Osbourne” t-shirt from the 80’s. His long red hair seems to be performing a slight, flowing motion in this unflinchingly still existence. A dense, impossible shadow partially obscures his face.
God opens his eyes.
Large blobs of ambiguous blackness dance in his eye-sockets. His hateful gaze strips you down to raw human meat. His voice explodes in your head, even without his lips moving.
Hello, child. Your God speaks. I bring you here to let you in on a little secret. I’m coming back to take what’s mine. I left it inside you, when I left. I appreciate you keeping my property safe. You hoped I had forgotten about it.-Didn’t you, WcF? Nope. Pure fantasy, sinner. There is no escaping me. This is what you were made to do. –It’s the very reason you exist. Do you feel that specialness dancing inside your empty little head? You’re welcome.
However, I have ulterior motives. I mean, obviously. Who the fuck do you think you are? You think I’m coming back to this “soap opera in reverse-drag” just to pull the head off of Gravedigger and kick it out into the crowd? Well, that does sound pretty fucking sweet… I mean, sure. I have promised each and every one of you a unique and beautiful disconnect from the mortal coil. That promise means a lot to me. It really does, friendo. However, I’m doing shit on a grander scale than just the absolute orgasmic delight it is going to be when I pull out Gravedigger’s eyes and wipe my ass with his pretentious-fucking-idiot-face.
I’m gambling, WcF. That’s right. I know that changes the way you chumps look at me. Me! –of all people! –Am committing a christian sin and placing a very large wager on myself to win at WcF’s War. I’m as fake-ashamed as you could imagine.
“Large scale biological terrorism” is fucking expensive. –What can I say. –Fuckin’ economy and shit, I guess. Anyways, according to the genius’ in Vegas and on the interwebs, the chances of Greenfever making a completely random reemergence and winning WcF’s WAR PPV is, like, super impossible. –So, I’m gonna make a very large wager on myself. Then, I’m gonna walk down the ramp on your second-rate soap opera, and I’m gonna beat-the-brakes off of each and every one of you until they raise my arm in victory. Then, I collect my earnings and I go on my merry way and end humanity in brutal and gory/disgusting fashion.
You think I give a flying fuck about your pretend WcF World Title? Psssh. Go fuck yourself with all that shit, Seth. That’s right. I’m talking to you, friendo. I’m here to mutilate your tv-slaves and make money. –and maybe fuck my lady in her mouth. You never know how these things’ll go.
-The look on your face, Seth, when I bring your whole world down with my irreverence. I want that picture in my wallet. Oh, that thing you love more than anything else in the world? Yea, watch me wipe my balls with it in front of a million people on tv. You think anyone on your payroll can stop me? These are the same pathetic pussies who have constant, sassy “twitter-beef?” - Seriously? Twitter fights!? –Like some goddamned cartoon nine year olds? -Fucking disgusting, man. Yea. Good luck with those guys. I’m sure they’re super-badasses.
This is just a friendly warning. –More of a reminder, that I’m a motherfucking monster. -That I’m coming for your souls, WcF. Look at my face, children. This is what God looks like. Look. Listen. Understand. Know that I am going to kill you and everyone that you love. I am the harbinger of death. I am the pale horse. I am apocalypse. I am your God. I am Forever. I am.
You are suddenly and violently shoved backward. God’s visage is ripped away from you and reality smears back into your wasted life.
You thought all this vile gore was behind you, WcF. Hope will do terrible things for you. That’s what it does to you, don’t you see? –It lies to you. You didn’t ask for this, but it’s coming nevertheless. Can you feel it? -The twinge of inevitability in the air? Breathe it in. Let it fill your lungs and cascade into your bloodstream. There you go. That’s a good little girl. This eternal evil will never stop. He is a cancerous sore on the face of humanity. You have no choice, but to crumple to his malevolent fists of distain. Accept this truth. He will decimate everyone who stands in his way. The entirety of the WcF will reside under the heel of this beast. Listen to the truth, faggot. He can take away all the pain of your life. He can make all these terrible things stop. Let him, child. Let him end your suffering. You weren’t made for this life. You’re just a waste of flesh. Don’t you see it? Sure you do. Let’s not lie to ourselves. This is happening whether you like it or not. You’ve already bought your ticket.-Time to take the ride. Accept his salvation. Accept his solution.
The nothingness rolls off him and pours itself back into the infinite sea of hate. Blinding, white-hot deadlights radiate from just beneath his bloodstained flesh. You try to move your arm up to shade your pussy-ass eyes, but God’s abhorrent will denies you control of your extremities. His benevolence is barefoot and cloaked in jeans with a tattered “Ozzy Osbourne” t-shirt from the 80’s. His long red hair seems to be performing a slight, flowing motion in this unflinchingly still existence. A dense, impossible shadow partially obscures his face.
God opens his eyes.
Large blobs of ambiguous blackness dance in his eye-sockets. His hateful gaze strips you down to raw human meat. His voice explodes in your head, even without his lips moving.
Hello, child. Your God speaks. I bring you here to let you in on a little secret. I’m coming back to take what’s mine. I left it inside you, when I left. I appreciate you keeping my property safe. You hoped I had forgotten about it.-Didn’t you, WcF? Nope. Pure fantasy, sinner. There is no escaping me. This is what you were made to do. –It’s the very reason you exist. Do you feel that specialness dancing inside your empty little head? You’re welcome.
However, I have ulterior motives. I mean, obviously. Who the fuck do you think you are? You think I’m coming back to this “soap opera in reverse-drag” just to pull the head off of Gravedigger and kick it out into the crowd? Well, that does sound pretty fucking sweet… I mean, sure. I have promised each and every one of you a unique and beautiful disconnect from the mortal coil. That promise means a lot to me. It really does, friendo. However, I’m doing shit on a grander scale than just the absolute orgasmic delight it is going to be when I pull out Gravedigger’s eyes and wipe my ass with his pretentious-fucking-idiot-face.
I’m gambling, WcF. That’s right. I know that changes the way you chumps look at me. Me! –of all people! –Am committing a christian sin and placing a very large wager on myself to win at WcF’s War. I’m as fake-ashamed as you could imagine.
“Large scale biological terrorism” is fucking expensive. –What can I say. –Fuckin’ economy and shit, I guess. Anyways, according to the genius’ in Vegas and on the interwebs, the chances of Greenfever making a completely random reemergence and winning WcF’s WAR PPV is, like, super impossible. –So, I’m gonna make a very large wager on myself. Then, I’m gonna walk down the ramp on your second-rate soap opera, and I’m gonna beat-the-brakes off of each and every one of you until they raise my arm in victory. Then, I collect my earnings and I go on my merry way and end humanity in brutal and gory/disgusting fashion.
You think I give a flying fuck about your pretend WcF World Title? Psssh. Go fuck yourself with all that shit, Seth. That’s right. I’m talking to you, friendo. I’m here to mutilate your tv-slaves and make money. –and maybe fuck my lady in her mouth. You never know how these things’ll go.
-The look on your face, Seth, when I bring your whole world down with my irreverence. I want that picture in my wallet. Oh, that thing you love more than anything else in the world? Yea, watch me wipe my balls with it in front of a million people on tv. You think anyone on your payroll can stop me? These are the same pathetic pussies who have constant, sassy “twitter-beef?” - Seriously? Twitter fights!? –Like some goddamned cartoon nine year olds? -Fucking disgusting, man. Yea. Good luck with those guys. I’m sure they’re super-badasses.
This is just a friendly warning. –More of a reminder, that I’m a motherfucking monster. -That I’m coming for your souls, WcF. Look at my face, children. This is what God looks like. Look. Listen. Understand. Know that I am going to kill you and everyone that you love. I am the harbinger of death. I am the pale horse. I am apocalypse. I am your God. I am Forever. I am.
You are suddenly and violently shoved backward. God’s visage is ripped away from you and reality smears back into your wasted life.
You thought all this vile gore was behind you, WcF. Hope will do terrible things for you. That’s what it does to you, don’t you see? –It lies to you. You didn’t ask for this, but it’s coming nevertheless. Can you feel it? -The twinge of inevitability in the air? Breathe it in. Let it fill your lungs and cascade into your bloodstream. There you go. That’s a good little girl. This eternal evil will never stop. He is a cancerous sore on the face of humanity. You have no choice, but to crumple to his malevolent fists of distain. Accept this truth. He will decimate everyone who stands in his way. The entirety of the WcF will reside under the heel of this beast. Listen to the truth, faggot. He can take away all the pain of your life. He can make all these terrible things stop. Let him, child. Let him end your suffering. You weren’t made for this life. You’re just a waste of flesh. Don’t you see it? Sure you do. Let’s not lie to ourselves. This is happening whether you like it or not. You’ve already bought your ticket.-Time to take the ride. Accept his salvation. Accept his solution.
