Leviticus: If You Don't Eat Raw Shellfish, Your Toilet Will Thank You

 

Blake Shelton and Gwen Stefani: the Healthiest Couple On Planet Earth

 

Roy Moore Should Be No More

 

This one's obviously more serious than the others I've drawn. Darker, too.

Catey Zolot, Physically Ill Religious Kid from "Jumping For Jesus"

 

Deathbringer (Trigger Warning: Child Abuse)

VERSE 1

Your son got a C in his Bible Studies class

So you took your leather belt and you bloodied up his ass

Told him he was worthless and he’s burning in hell

There’s more blood to shed if he finds a cop to tell

Damn right there’s more bloodshed, but now it’s yours

‘Cause he found your nine-millimeter in your chest of drawers

A tool of destruction used in overseas wars

BANG-BANG! Now the maid’s got some extra laundry chores

 

CHORUS

Death to abusers! Death to the rapists!

Death to conformists! You’ll learn to hate this!

Life isn’t precious when you take theirs away!

Here comes the Deathbringer, it’s Judgment Day!

 

VERSE 2

Your trustworthy pastor grabbed your daughter’s legs

Because she wore a short skirt and was begging for sex

That’s your version of the story and you’re sticking to it

She had her chance to go to heaven, but she fucking blew it

There’s still hope for you to find out your fate

‘Cause now your tender baby has a reason to hate

Meet Jesus early, your vision became blurry

When she stabbed you in the throat, ended your life in a hurry

 

CHORUS

Death to abusers! Death to the rapists!

Death to conformists! You’ll learn to hate this!

Life isn’t precious when you take theirs away!

Here comes the Deathbringer, it’s Judgment Day!

 

VERSE 3

Those in power love to cry about the birthrate

So they outlaw abortion using anti-woman hate

The real headline isn’t guys not getting laid

It’s the bounties on their heads finally being paid

Wanted dead or alive, but not so much the latter

Bash rapists’ skulls and enjoy the blood splatter

Cut off their wangs, cock the pistol, BANG-BANG!

It’s too late to negotiate, abusers must hang!

 

CHORUS

Death to abusers! Death to the rapists!

Death to conformists! You’ll learn to hate this!

Life isn’t precious when you take theirs away!

Here comes the Deathbringer, it’s Judgment Day!

 

OUTRO

Are you offended? Are you pissed?

So am I, because of what you did!

Are you a censor? Brainwasher?

That’s good, I’ll hold your head under water!

Thou Shalt Not Kill no longer applies

Every time the innocent always fucking dies!

It’s too late to rehabilitate

Here’s a bullet or two, how ‘bout I fire eight?!

Korey Cooper from Skillet

 

Justin Cordle from We As Human

 

John Cooper (Skillet) X Ivan Moody (Five Finger Death Punch)

 

Jen Ledger from Skillet

 

Beautiful Monster, Prologue

Elves from all walks of life filed into the Magetan church as though they were already in a Death Valley March trance. Farmers, warriors, healers, scholars, adults, children, they had all seen their fair share of trauma by virtue of their light green skin and pointy ears. It was just another form of othering that the human population had gotten far too comfortable with. The Xavier Village was their only refuge from it all, yet the luster of safety was growing dimmer with each passing day, with each missing elf, with each instance of violence and every microaggression. 

The elven flock took their seats in the wooden pews. Some of them breathed slowly to try to calm themselves down. Mothers held their bewildered children in their arms. Married couples of all sexual orientations rested their heads on each other’s shoulders and held hands as tightly as they could, as if letting go would cause them to float away into the dark abyss. Most of these elves didn’t bother dressing up in their finest clothing for this sermon. Dirt-covered overalls, torn leather vests, baggy pants that were the only source of comfort for some, and dresses with faded purple colors were among the fashion of the day. The collective trauma must have made dressing their best seem like a laborious chore. No one could blame them. Combing their flowing locks seemed like the only notable effort.

Conspicuous by her own presence was the woman with prematurely gray dreadlocks sitting alone on the far end of one of the pews. While other elves were simply sick and tired of the grind of their disenfranchised lives, Bijou Birdwing seemed to carry that burden more than anyone else. The bridal gown she wore looked as though it had seen many years of fights and lonely nights in the streets of Morgan Town, judging from the blood and dirt stains smeared every which way. Her body odor was forgivable among the flock, but the constant twitching, muttering to herself, and staring off into the distance caused them to hold onto their loved ones even tighter. Bijou had been through hell and she seemed determined to put the world through worse.

Queen Llewellyn Xavier took notice of every disturbing aspect among the congregation’s presentation, yet remained the sole beacon of hope in this village by virtue of how she herself was presented. Her pristine purple velvet robe adorned with leonine faces and golden trim along with her wooden crown were symbols of her regality, but her calm composure, her hands across her lap, and her gentle stare were what solidified her as a symbol of strength. 

Her therapist and personal confidant Vera Echo rubbing her shoulders helped in keeping her calm as well. One final squeeze and the fluffy blue robed therapist took her seat in the front pew. Llewellyn smiled at her confidant as Vera pulled out her plush doll and flipped it around as her own source of comfort. Everyone had their own things. This was Vera’s. With her age showing in the white strands in her long black hair, she’d seen enough in her lifetime and didn’t want to take shit from people telling her to grow up.

Now that everyone had taken their seats and were waiting patiently for the sermon to begin, Llewellyn took center stage and lightly banged the gong with her mallet. “Nagata,” she said while doing a fist-to-palm prayer stance. Others in the congregation repeated this gesture. This was a sign of respect among the Magetan covenant, a source of siblinghood, and a token of love. These people needed all the love and siblinghood they could get, especially Bijou who continued to twitch like she had consumed something poisonous for her already fucked up mind.

“Welcome, everyone. As you all are aware, there’ve been many changes in our village over the past few months. Most of our brothers and sisters have gone missing through mysterious circumstances. Those who try to investigate end up missing themselves…including my own flesh and blood Windham. He is out there somewhere looking for our loved ones. But until the day comes when everyone returns, it’s important to know why this is all happening. This isn’t but a random occurrence. There’s a history behind these actions. A history of othering. A history of violence. A history of fascism among the human race, the same humans we depend on for our currency with the outside world.”

Llewellyn tucked her head and cleared her throat, the smallest sign of crumbling under pressure, yet invisible to all. “To understand the history of our people, it is always important to remember that this land we call ours doesn’t belong to us at all. It in fact once belonged to a society of dwarves that have since moved underground due to human meddling. It is unclear when they will return to the surface for vengeance. The dwarves were painted as savages and cutthroats, when it was in fact the accidental consumption of a single poisonous plant that caused many of them to lash out the way that they did. Was the Brock Flower planted there on purpose? May have been. But ever since the consumption of that plant, this land was used by other kingdoms as an execution ground for undesirables and prisoners. They would be airdropped into these lands knowing the sickly dwarves would kill them.”

While the Queen took a brief sigh, Vera clutched her doll tighter while Bijou grew more agitated in her little corner. Other elves held onto their loved ones for comfort. The Queen continued. “These undesirables weren’t killers and hardened criminals. They were innocents that we would have welcomed into our church if given the opportunity. Those with mind ghosts, those who loved the same gender, those who identified as other genders, progressives, artists, they were all airdropped onto this island and killed off as to be expected. But then the kingdom got greedy and dropped too many prisoners onto the island. The prisoners soon outnumbered the dwarves and in fact held their own in combat. The dwarves had no choice but to retreat underground.”

Llewellyn noticed Bijou twitching even harder than before, but continued the sermon nonetheless. “The dwarves are not to blame in all of this. They were victims of circumstance. That is why we take care of their land and grow the finest vegetables and fruits…like this one.” She pulled a baby corn cob out of her robe’s breast pocket and handed it to a small child in the front row, who thanked her with wide eyes and gobbled down on it happily. Everyone smiled at this beautiful gesture. Vera held onto her doll like it was a beloved family member. Bijou calmed down, but only a little bit.

“But as you all know, not all of our vegetables and fruits have turned out to be healthy. A blight had infected our crops, one which could be solved with our grangers had they not disappeared. They too were victims of othering, just like the first elf Ryoka, a warrior with brain ghosts who was among the class of prisoners who forced the dwarves to move underground. She did nothing wrong other than have a skin condition that turned her dark green and struggle with her inner demons. That’s all it took for her to be considered undesirable. She, like many elves after her, was accused of witchcraft after the accidental burning of Morgan Town property. Maybe there was magic in those days, but it has long since been suppressed by human colonialism.”

The initial happiness from Llewellyn’s corn offering turned to more nervousness and head-tucking sadness from the congregation. “But our story didn’t end there. It only began with the emergence of our leonine god Mageta. Nobody knows where this god came from. Nobody knows why he saved us. But just like the dwarves before us, he deserves respect in our people’s history. Mageta slaughtered those who dared imprison and oppress us. His warm fur coat provided a place for sickly elves to rest. His fuzzy paws, though worn with combat, gave us hugs that would last us for generations. 

That was five hundred years ago and ever since then we’ve given him thanks with our worship and our progressive ways. With this small reprieve he gave us, we as elves temporarily broke our cycles of abuse inflicted on us by the humans. We continue to break cycles and be better versions of ourselves than generations before…because Mageta is no longer here with us. After he was savagely hunted down by those he fought against, he forged his own meadow kingdom in the afterlife. He is waiting for us. He wants to give us comfort and love once again. But first…we must carry on his legacy in this world.”

Llewellyn proudly waved her arm around the church decorations. “You see these lion statues? Do you see these stained glass windows of elven legends past and present? Do you see these paintings of us being victorious in battle? Do you see tapestries and rugs designed with the faces of animals we love today? It is our creativity that makes us feel alive in a world that wants us dead. It is our therapy, much like the animals that live in our village themselves. Ever created a sculpture of a whale and had a nightjar sit on your shoulder the entire time? Windham has. Ever painted a picture of your wife with flowers in her hair while a kitten sits on your lap? Ever chiseled a granite weapon while a dog rubs his head against the blunt end? Progressivism, cycle breaking, creativity, animal care, these things are all what we live for. They make life bearable. They make it worth living. That is why we must take good care of each other for the time we have left. Nagata!”

The congregation, Llewellyn included, did the first-to-palm prayer to end the sermon. This moment of clarity was broken when Bijou stood up and shrieked, “Get your hands out of my underwear! Get your bastardly hands off of me!” She had everyone’s shocked attention, but Llewellyn held her ground.

“Bijou! Who are you talking to?! Who did this to you?!”

Bijou went silent as her paranoid eyes darted around to see everyone staring at her with paranoid eyes of their own. “…Nobody…there’s nobody here…”

“Listen to me, my friend,” said Llewellyn in a firm, yet gentle tone. “Dr. Echo’s door is open to you anytime you need someone to talk to. Things haven’t been the same since your sister Juliet left you to join the Atwood Queendom. Her betrayal is unforgivable. She’s the Mother Ruth archetype we hear about so much. I know you two used to play with dolls together. You told stories to each other. You had so much creative energy inside you. Let us help you get your passion for life back. Please…seek help. It doesn’t even have to be a therapy session with Vera. It could be a backgammon game with her. Or a chess game with me. Maybe we can tell stories together. Let us help you in whatever way we can.”

“Help? You want to help ME?!” Bijou screamed, making everyone jump backwards in fear. “I don’t need your damn help, Llewellyn. In fact, I downright despise you. If I had a knife in my hand, I would slash you from asshole to appetite. You’re the reason why my sister is gone. You’re the reason why my mother abandoned us. And you’re the reason why this village is turning to shit. You stand up there all high and mighty and yet you haven’t done a single thing to restore the peace. Your empty words don’t work on me. My words…” She pointed to her own head. “Come from here. They’re the only ones I can trust from now on. Everyone else is a backstabber.” Bijou gave Llewellyn double middle fingers as she stomped out of the church. She even pushed over a granite statue of Mageta on her way out.

The rest of the congregation stared at their Queen with disbelief in their eyes, as though their symbol of strength had let them down. They exited the church the same way they came in: imitating the Death Valley March, a traumatic condition where marching blindly into combat was the only way to the afterlife. 

I failed them. I failed them all. Damn it, Windham. Where are you? Where are you, Lars? I need someone to lean on. Yet, everyone I love has turned away from me. These were the thoughts that circled Llewellyn’s head as she tucked her chin and turned her back to the audience so that she wouldn’t have to watch them walk away from her. Bijou is delirious. But some of what she said was right… Vera approached Llewellyn for another shoulder rub, but this time was turned away as the Queen trudged out of sight. If my parents were alive, they wouldn’t let this be. The shameful trek back to her throne room ended with a plop on her comfortable bed, face down like a drunk in an alleyway. I have no right to sleep in a comfortable bed when others are suffering. Windham, please come home. Lars, we need to talk. Can anyone help me?!

Angel's Share

The rift between Alex Macintosh and her so-called “lord and savior” grew with every bigoted slur that came out of a preacher’s mouth. It was already a yawning chasm from an early age. Now it was a dark black hole that sucked all of the life out of her. Going to church wasn’t as fun as she remembered it being. The fairytales weren’t as fascinating. The loving spirit wasn’t as warm. Everything in this mega church full of enthusiastic worshippers revolved around money these days.

How much money could Pastor Shawn Hawkins swindle out of his followers? How much of it would actually go to the poor? How much of it would fund his vacation in Neo Hawaii? The deeper Alex dug into his bank account, the more obvious the answers became. There she was in a shadowy corner of the church tapping away on her smart phone and thumb drive. Her dark trench coat and equally dark scarf around her face made hiding in the shadows that much easier. It also helped matters that the thousands of people packing the arena were too busy praying for things they’d never get on their own.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” shouted a young man into the microphone. His voice temporarily jarred Alex out of her hack job, but ultimately she thought nothing of it and went back to work. “Put your hands together for the messenger of God himself! The angel from the heavens above! The warrior of worship! The preacher of perfection! Here he is: Pastor Shawn Hawkins!”

The raucous clapping and lurching from the congregation once again snapped Alex out of her work. They were so obnoxious with their zeal that she failed to concentrate on what was most important: getting Pastor Hawkins’s ill-gotten fortunes back into the hands of those who needed it. Just a few more bars of code…just a few more clicks…”Damn it!” she whispered to herself. She quickly covered her mouth considering where she was saying it, but still nobody paid attention to her.

As the audience clapped and some of them did back flips and cartwheels in the audience, Pastor Shawn Hawkins descended from the ceiling dressed in flowing red robes. He really was an angel from heaven with his feathery wings gently flapping and lowering him to the stage. “I’ve seen better wings on a plate of KFC,” murmured Alex as she struggled to focus on her hack job.

The raven-haired, thick-bearded Pastor yanked the microphone out of his hype man’s hand and motioned for his congregation to sit down and shut up, which they gladly did. Alex couldn’t believe the smiles on their faces, the tears in their eyes…and the dollar bills folded up in their hands. “Here we go…” she muttered.

Taking a karate stance in the center of the stage, Pastor Hawkins belted his sermon into the microphone like a heavy metal singer moonlighting as a fat-shaming fitness guru. “Sinners! All of them! Each and every damned soul outside of this church today will have no such access to the pearly gates! They choose not to come here and choose not to give their welfare money to the heavens above! They are vile! They are rotten! For every penny they pinch, they are keeping the Christian revolution from taking place! That will not happen on my watch! Can I get an amen?!”

“Amen!” said everybody not named Alex Macintosh, who still thumbed away on her smart phone, still chipping away at Shawn’s bank account.

Pointing his hairy finger out into the crowd, he shouted, “You see that?! The sinners and nonbelievers call that fanaticism, but I call it reality! God is your reality! This world we’ve created for ourselves inside this church is the only thing that’s real to us now! Forget the vegetable-munching hippies! Forget the rock and roll niggers! Forget the transgender fags! They hold no power of us!”

That last slur had Alex’s eyes watering with rage as she looked up from her screen to unleash a hellish look upon her tormentor. He couldn’t see her even as he flapped his wings and floated around the church, but she saw him with tunnel vision, so much so that she forgot to keep cracking the code. She wanted so much to rip his tongue out, but also knew that Shawn Hawkins was a martial arts expert and often used his trade to intimidate “sinners” into giving him money.

“I fly around this room today and I see heavenly beauty!” As if right on cue, congregation members grinned up at him and held out their wads of cash. “You’re not just giving me your hard-earned money. You’re buying something with your dollars. You’re buying a revolution! You’re buying paradise! You’re buying a weapon against the darkness of hell!”

Alex shook her head and got right back to work cracking the code. Pastor Hawkins’s words began to blend together in a cacophony of screaming and prejudice, so much so that Alex didn’t even notice him flapping directly above her until she saw his reflection in her screen. “Come on, damn it!” she whispered as she grew closer to cracking his password.

“Who said that?! Who in God’s good name said that in my church?!” roared Shawn. Alex dropped her phone in panic and almost shattered the screen. She crab-walked against the wall in an attempt to hide from her accuser. She even held her knees to her chest to make herself small. But there he was descending upon her, the flaps of his wings creating deafening whooshes, the anger on his reddening face palpable and tense.

“Come to me, harlot,” said Shawn as he held out his hand. Alex couldn’t. She was frozen in fear. “I said come to me, you devil’s whore!” He stomped over to her and her phone crunched beneath his army boots. The congregation stared at her with wide-eyed shock while Shawn picked up the remains of the phone and instantly deciphered what Alex was trying to do.

“It appears we have a thief in our midst, my children. Stealing is a sin! Stealing from the lord is a MORTAL SIN!” Shawn stared hellfire into Alex’s soul and she could do nothing but cower in the corner and shiver. He ripped off her scarf and revealed another “sin” to the congregation. The blond hair extensions, the white makeup, the poorly smudged blue lipstick, they all led him to one conclusion. “Transgender whore!”

Alex could feel the boos and “Whore!” chants radiating off the congregation and piercing her skin like daggers. She tried to stand up, but her legs were too wobbly and her head was swimming laps around this church. She eventually found her equilibrium by holding onto a stair railing. “Please!” she begged in a low, trembling voice. “Just let me go…I’ll never bother you again…it’s just that I…”

“Silence!” barked Shawn as he punched a hole in the wall next to her head, causing her to trip over her own quaking fear. She couldn’t even crawl down the stairs without Shawn placing his boot across her ankle. The harder he pressed, the louder she screamed. “You dare steal from a house of worship?! You dare steal from the lord almighty?! That is inexcusable! I shall send you to hell myself, you filthy whore!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! Please, just take my flash drive and take your foot off of me!” She blindly chucked the flash drive at him hoping he would catch it. However, her heart and brain pumped her with so many chemicals that she miscalculated how hard she threw it. It bounced off of one of his feathers and exposed wiring underneath. The hacking properties of the device caused even more sparks to shoot out of what was now revealed as his mechanism. The congregation gasped in shock while Shawn’s hardened facial expression grew soft with worry. He even took his foot off of Alex’s leg.

Trying to regain her breath, Alex pointed at the fake mechanical wings and said, “You see that, everyone? He’s not even a real angel. His money isn’t being used for a Christian revolution! He fooled you all! Thou shalt not bear false witness, anyone? He tricked you all into becoming bigots! He tricked you all into giving away your money to what will eventually be his expensive vacation! If you don’t believe me, look on that flash drive! Look on whatever’s left of my phone! The more you hate people like me and the other so-called ‘fags’, the richer he becomes and the poorer you all become!”

Shawn kneeled down beside his victim and smiled at her. “Don’t you get it by now? These people don’t care about any of that. They don’t care about you. Did they care when our president said he would grab a certain part of the female anatomy? No. Did they care when a certain Supreme Court justice was accused of doing much worse to said anatomy? No. These people know who the real enemy is and who their friends really are. They want entry into heaven. They know they’re not going to get it by listening to a transgender thief whore like you!”

“Is…is this true, everyone?” asked Alex. Her answer came in the form of angry stares from the congregation, not at the one swindling them, but at the one they were told to hate. Their hatred hurt her badly. She could feel her heart racing and her mind numbing to the violence that would become of her very shortly.

Shawn slowly stalked Alex as she crawled down the staircase. As soon as she moved too fast for everyone’s comfort, the congregation and their Pastor charged after her in a screaming rage. She almost tripped over her fear again when she tried to get up, but this time she bolted out of the emergency exit and set off a blaring fire alarm. Fire sprinkles set off even more sparks on Shawn’s mechanical wings and his congregation crawled on top of him to put out the electrical storm. Alex used this distraction to dash down the street, her legs trembling and aching the whole way.

She ran until she couldn’t do so anymore. Her lungs burned, her heart exploded, and her eyes dripped with wetness as she hunched over on the street corner. “How could they not care?!” she mumbled unintelligibly. “How could they not fucking care!” She stomped her high heeled boot on the ground and broke said heel in the process. “Damn it! Damn it, damn it, damn it!”

“Excuse me, Miss!” said a homeless man with sunglasses. “Can you spare me some change?”

How about that? He actually said the right gender prefix. But such a small victory was nothing to celebrate as Alex wiped away burning tears from her reddened face. “I don’t have a dime,” she confessed. After a silence hung between them, she pointed at the mega church and said, “But they do. Why don’t you go ask them yourself?” Alex walked away hoping at least one person got the message she was trying to send.

The Fun Police

VERSE 1

They’re coming for your offensive jokes

Every guitar riff, every musical note

Every novel with the blackest of magic

Every love story with an ending so tragic

Keeping it clean like an overworked janitor

Keeping it lawful like an overpowered senator

The fun police are coming for your ass

They’ve got you cuffed, face down in the grass

CHORUS

Sound the sirens! It’s the fun police!

Censoring anything they damn well please!

Stripping you naked of your individuality!

Conformity enforced with wicked brutality!

VERSE 2

Don’t say those words; they’re bad for the ears

It’s been that way since the medieval years

Don’t play with yourself; it’s a mortal sin

Even though you’re the owner of your skin

Don’t question authority; it’s against the law

Listen only to your bible-thumping grandpa

The fun police? More like the fun SWAT Team

Invading your deep desires and sweet dreams

CHORUS

Sound the sirens! It’s the fun police!

Censoring anything they damn well please!

Stripping you naked of your individuality!

Conformity enforced with wicked brutality!

VERSE 3

A squeaky clean world is boring as shit

All because you couldn’t help throwing a fit

All because you got offended by one little tit

All because you can’t handle the mosh pit

Keep your hands off of my fucking fun

Stop whining about everything under the sun

Being miserable is not really an excuse

For all of the power you’ve come to abuse

EXTENDED CHORUS

Sound the sirens! It’s the fun police!

Censoring anything they damn well please!

Stripping you naked of your individuality!

Conformity enforced with wicked brutality!

Sound the alarm! It’s the fun militia!

They’re going berserk and fucking ballistic!

They claim to want a smaller government!

No obstacles for their forced covenant!

He's Only Thirteen

Gloria Summers’ heavenly soprano voice resonated throughout the empty church as she practiced her hymns. Standing at the altar with a purple choir robe flowing from her petite figure, she sang her heart out as though the church was packed for her performance. She closed her beautiful brown eyes and imagined applause and tears of happiness from the makeshift crowd. But when she opened them again, she didn’t see a single soul sitting in the pews. She wiped a tear from her eye as she remembered how this city had fallen on hard economic times. People would do absolutely anything for money, even if it meant endangering their health and forfeiting their position at the pews.

And then her concentration was broken as easily as church glass when a pounding at the doors boomed throughout the House of God. Gloria nearly jumped out of her dark skin and clutched a hand to her heart at the raucous sound, which continued to grow louder with desperation. She lifted her choir robe and hurried down the church aisle to answer the door. “Who could be knocking at this hour?” she asked herself.

When she opened the doors, a heavy presence spilled over her lap, almost knocking her on her ass. She managed to circle her arms around what appeared to be a dark-skinned teenage boy in a white karate gi passed out and shivering from the rain outside. Gloria dragged the young man inside and slammed the door behind her to prevent the cold from rushing into her church.

“You poor thing,” said Gloria while rolling the little boy over. Cuts and bruises covered his face and his tongue dangled slightly out of his mouth with a speck of drool hanging down. “Come on, little guy, let’s get you all warm and toasty.” The lone choir girl cradled the child in her arms and carried him to the back of the church, where a soft and warm bed just happened to be.

Gloria smiled sadly at the unconscious boy while stroking his damp black locks. “I’ll have some soup ready for you when you’re awake,” she said. It took her little more than three minutes to heat up a cup of noodle soup and present it to him with a plastic spoon nestled inside. Steam rose from the broth while triggering the child’s sense of smell. A few whiffs later and his swollen purple eyes slowly opened.

With a lisp that probably had to do with the karate gi he was wearing, he said, “Where am I? What the fuck is this?”

“I’ll let that dirty language slide for now, sugar,” said Gloria with a smile as warm as the soup. “You’re in the House of God, little man. It’s the safest place you can be right now. Whoever gave you those nasty bumps ain’t coming for you now. Here, have some soup. You’ll need your strength.”

The child snapped when Gloria handed him the soup, knocking the nutritious meal out of her hands and spilling broth and noodles all over the floor. The traumatized kid continued to thrash and wail about while the choir girl held him still. “Get away from me! I have to fight him!” shouted the kid. “Sensei Lector will kill me if I don’t fight him! Let me go, damn it!”

“Calm yourself, child!” belted Gloria while struggling to maintain a tight grip on the rambunctious kid. He nearly slipped out of her grasp when she mounted him and pinned his wrists down on the bed. The kid thrashed some more, but he clearly lost this battle. He could do nothing but shed tears hot enough to trigger the pain in his bruised eyes. “It’s no use,” he sobbed. “I’m dead! I’m never going to get out of that tournament!”

Gloria petted the child’s hair and gently said, “There, there, little guy. Like I said before, this is a safe place where you don’t have to worry about such things. No more fighting. No more bruises. No more blood. Just you, me, and the man upstairs. Now why don’t you tell me what’s going on between you and this Sensei Lector of yours.”

“You can’t do shit about it, lady,” snapped the child. “Saijin Lector is my master. He’s the one who trained me how to fight. I’ve been making a lot of money for the both of us beating the shit out of everyone in that ring. If he finds out I’ve dashed on him…he’s going to kill me!” Tears burned his black eyes once again.

Gloria lovingly rested her head on the child’s chest and said, “It’s alright, kid. You came here for a reason and that reason is to rest up. You know you can’t do this fighting business no more. You’re only a kid. Kids should be out playing and having fun, not beating people up in some dingy arena. Whoever this Saijin Lector is, there’s no chance I’m going to let him mess with you.”

“You don’t understand,” wept the child. “He’s a monster!”

“Of course he’s a monster, son,” said Gloria. “Anybody who puts a child through this much torture for a couple of bucks has got to be some kind of sicko.”

The child pushed Gloria off the bed and shouted, “He’s a real fucking monster!” A moment of tense silence hung between them and then Gloria shivered in fear while crab walking backwards. “I can’t stay here much longer! He’ll find me and beat me to death! You just don’t get it! He’s not just a monster! He has a whole gang backing him up! He can do whatever he wants to this city!”

“Not on my watch!” snapped Gloria as she stood back up and towered over the bruised child. “I don’t give up on those who come here for help and I’m damn sure not giving up on you! I don’t care what kind of monster you’re running from, because he ain’t getting nowhere near you! I’ve seen too much bad nonsense go on in this city! People getting shot dead in the streets, people losing their homes, people getting beaten by the police, it has to end somewhere! I say we bring it to an end one step at a time and that means getting you to higher ground!”

Another moment of tense silence hung in the air between them. The child snuggled further in his sheets after being the recipient of Gloria’s tough love, emphasis on love. He softly said, “My name is Danny. Danny Killian. What’s yours?”

“Gloria Summers. Nice to meet you, Danny. You’re a handsome young man despite all of the bruises.” She pulled the blanket over him further and gently said, “Get some rest, little guy. We’ve got a long day ahead of us tomorrow…”

The cracking sound of the church doors breaking down accompanied by deep demonic breathing caused Danny to cover his head with the blankets even tighter. “Stay here,” warned Gloria as she ventured out in the chapel to see what was up. Danny was right: there were monsters out there and one of them invaded her church with a whip in one hand and a tight fist in the other. “Holy-moly!” she whispered as she looked up at the seven-foot tall red fleshed demon, who came bearing fangs, horns, and sharp claws.

The demon brushed the wooden splinters from the door off of his brown trench coat and adjusted his fedora before saying, “Good evening, sweet cheeks! You wouldn’t happen to have a child about yay-high running around here, would you? He needs to come home with his daddy!”

“Some daddy you turned out to be!” shouted Gloria while she stood terra firma with her fists by her side. “You must be Saijin. Actually, I don’t give a hoot who you are! You’re in the House of God now and you’d better move your biscuit butt on out of here!”

“Or else what?!” bellowed Saijin, knocking Gloria down with the impact of his voice alone. “Is the man upstairs going to zap me to death? Oh, I’m so scared! I don’t know if you’re aware of this or not, but I’ve got a fucking whip and I’ve ripped a lot of flesh with this motherfucker! So if you don’t want to be the next one to be turned into human jerky, you’ll point me in the direction of that little brat!”

“I’m right here, dumb-ass!” belted Danny, who appeared at the altar shaking in either anger or fear (Gloria couldn’t tell). The child prizefighter’s fists were balled tightly as he entered his karate stance, feet apart, hips distributed. The more Saijin stared at him with those fiery eyes, the harder Danny shook.

“So, you’ve finally grown a pair of balls, little Danny. It’s about damn time! Tell me, little dip-shit: is that a urine stain on your pants or are you just happy to see me?” mocked Saijin with a yellow-fanged grin on his face. Sure enough, Danny tucked his chin and saw that his karate pants were dripping with stale golden fluids. His eyes were also pouring with sorrow and fear while Saijin laughed at him some more. “Holy shit, kid! How did you ever become a champion again? This whole time, I’ve been training a little chicken shit instead of a goddamn warrior!”

The combination of Danny’s tears and urine and Saijin’s mocking laughter caused Gloria Summers’ blood to boil. Her insides reminded her of what the church’s version of hell looked like: fire, agony, venom, and death. Her teeth clenched so tightly that her jaw ached worse than Danny’s. Her heart thudded in her chest like a hip-hop beat echoing from somebody’s car stereo. “Enough!” she roared before nipping up and elbowing Saijin right in the groin.

The demon doubled over in pain, but not without giving Gloria a devilish smile in return. Danny attempted a running strike of his own, but was quickly cut off by the choir girl, who cradled the protesting kid in her arms and dashed out of the church like a bolt of lighting. She looked back and saw that Saijin was upright once more and his whip was on fire.

He blasted, “You’d better keep running, you little harlot! It won’t do you any fucking good, but you can try anyways!” Saijin lashed his flaming whip around at various pews and set them ablaze. He even managed to pop Gloria in the back and send her crumpling into a bloody heap. Danny groaned in fury and tried once again to engage his former boss only to have Gloria use the last of her energy to hold him back and vacate the burning church.

The two of them stumbled down the stairs together while the church’s flames and Saijin Lector’s laughter rose sky high. Despite Danny’s raging protests, Gloria continued to hold him back and push the two of them down the streets until they were able to turn a corner into an alleyway. Even with the glowing flames producing hell on earth behind them, Gloria Summers and Danny Killian had found temporary safety.

“How could you let him get away with that shit?!” Danny sobbed. “I could have taken him! I swear I could have!”

Gloria hugged Danny’s head tightly and whispered, “Your fighting days are over, son. You’ve got to know when to run away. There’s no shame in being scared. It’s a natural part of life. You can’t just keep on going like this. If you didn’t die at Saijin’s hands, you would have died in that ring.”

“But it’s not fair!” Danny whined. “I need the money! I need to beat people up! I need to be tough!”

“There are other ways of making money that don’t involve that macho garbage!” yelled Gloria as she shook Danny. She hugged him once again and whispered gently, “I’m not going to leave your side. The church can be rebuilt, but you can’t be replaced, Danny Killian. I’ll make this right for you, son. Just trust me. You’ve trusted Saijin long enough and look where it got you.”

“But…but it’s not fair!” whined Danny again.

“I know it isn’t, son. There’s nothing fair about any of this. But we can make it fair. You just have to have some hope. Do you trust me?” asked Gloria with a reassuring smile.

Danny wiped away his tears and smiled as much as his swollen cheeks would allow before saying, “Yeah…I trust you, Gloria.” The two of them hugged each other and watched the church burn to its final ashes. Saijin would get his someday, just not tonight and not at the hands of a frightened child fighter.

Child Bride

VERSE 1

You cover it up when you forcibly fuck

You go on a search for the nearest church

To get wed and to get inside of her bed

To put traumatic visions inside of her head

CHORUS

Where’s the pride for the child bride?

We all know what you’re trying to hide

You’ll never keep this all on the inside

Justice will be served by those who cried

VERSE 2

Will having nine children be enough for you?

Having a million arguments about nothing new?

She never had a choice, you took her voice

You rave and rant as you take off your pants

EXTENDED CHORUS

Where’s the pride for the child bride?

We all know what you’re trying to hide

You’ll never keep this all on the inside

Justice will be served by those who cried

Where is the pride for the soul that died?

When will we fight for all that is right?

This is entrapment in the worst sense

This is enslavement with the worst sex

VERSE 3

Your secret is out, so you scream and shout

There was never a question or even a doubt

The child bride has spoken her damn mind

All lights on you, they needed to be shined

Stutter and sputter, your shit melts like butter

You piss your pants and do a little dance

You plead guilty and get a hundred years

While the child bride keeps living in fear

EXTENDED CHORUS

Where’s the pride for the child bride?

We all know what you’re trying to hide

You’ll never keep this all on the inside

Justice will be served by those who cried

Where is the pride for the soul that died?

When will we fight for all that is right?

This is entrapment in the worst sense

This is enslavement with the worst sex

Swearison

VERSE 1

I swore at Lego Land and the Great Wolf Lodge

I swore as a teenager under parental watch

I swore when I cleaned dog shit off the floor

I swore until my motherfucking throat was sore

Letting out swear words is a form of therapy

I don’t give a shit if it’s a form of heresy

I don’t give a flying fuck who I offend

I take a deep breath and turn it up to ten

CHORUS

You can call me Swearison

Or you call me a barbarian

I’m sorry for your embarrassment

But you’re hanging out with Swearison

VERSE 2

I scream goddamn it when I bang my elbow

I yell motherfucker when I stub my big toe

I shout Jesus Christ when I bang my head

I bellow like a beast and wake the fucking dead

I should probably sign up for anger management

But it’s too much fun to commit sacrilege

It’s too exciting to shout from the rooftop

Get out of the kitchen if you think it’s too hot

CHORUS

You can call me Swearison

Or you call me a barbarian

I’m sorry for your embarrassment

But you’re hanging out with Swearison

VERSE 3

Cussing in a church or in a courthouse

Using more sex puns than a whorehouse

Cussing in school or a grade below this

Life’s too short for G-rated bullshit

Cussing in a theater with a Disney flick

The Little Mermaid’s tower looks like a dick

Cussing isn’t stupid or even immoral

If you don’t like it, you can give me some oral

EXTENDED CHORUS

You can call me Swearison

Or you call me a barbarian

I’m sorry for your embarrassment

But you’re hanging out with Swearison

My real name is Garrison

I’m a loud and proud heretic

I’m sorry for your sensitivity

I guess you’re really just shitting me

Exile

“Sing a song, Night Wolf, sing a song, mommy’s boy!” sang Maria Kevin in an off-key voice while she strummed her guitar. Sure enough, the spirit wolf glowing with blue energy howled at the full moon like the happy hound dog he was. The ghostly beast was rewarded with chin scratches and ear rubs from her elfish bard mommy. “Good boy, Night Wolf. Good, good puppy boy.”

The two of them sat outside a rickety old church on the grassy field together while the evening’s wind caressed them with cool air. Such was a pleasant evening for rest and relaxation, considering the long journey they had together playing concerts. Maria’s pointy red hat, black halter top, brown shorts, and brown leather boots gave her the appearance of a folk rock goddess. But to Night Wolf, she was still the down-to-earth spirit animal mother he snuggled up to every night.

“A lot of good memories come from this church, Night Wolf,” said Maria in a pleasant whispery voice. “This was where I first learned to play the guitar and sing to my heart’s content. There wasn’t a single elf in our village who didn’t come to this church every time they wanted some spiritual music. It makes me wonder what happened to this place that it got so…empty and depressing.” Those last words were punctuated with a small frown and a slight whimper from Night Wolf. The spirit animal tucked his head on Maria’s lap and earned himself more pettings behind the ears.

And then Night Wolf’s ears perked up as he lifted his head and barked rapidly at something going on in the church. “What is it, boy? What’s going on?” Maria asked. Night Wolf blitzed inside the church barking and howling while the elf bard struggled to keep up. The inside of the church looked as dilapidated and depressing as the outside. Stained glass windows were shattered, wooden beams splintered and peeled, the carpeted floor was soaked in animal urine and rainwater, and the roof had a hole through it big enough to fit a family of bears through.

Maria’s frowning sorrow intensified when she saw Night Wolf scraping at the basement door and howling in a pathetic, childish dog voice. She didn’t like to see him in such misery, but the purple energy glow behind the door was too much to ignore. The bard trotted down the stairs to the basement door and slowly opened it after backing Night Wolf away with her slender arm.

The source of the purple glow was a mere mortal human with an aura around his pale-skinned body. With dark robes to contrast his disturbingly white skin, he pointed his fingers and shot purple lighting into what appeared to be a bubbling cauldron of some kind. Maria’s eyes widened as the mysterious liquid boiled and splashed while Night Wolf crouched on the floor and whimpered again. The elf covered her ears while the spirit dog yelped after a gunshot-like blast erupted from the cauldron and gray smoke filled the air.

“Damn it!” the elderly wizard yelled. “This is ridiculous! How many times do I have to…” The old man turned around to reveal his baldheaded, wrinkly face to his new intruders and it became clear to Maria Kevin who this man really was. “What are you doing down here, my child? I haven’t seen that face in such a long time. You’re all grown up.”

“Reverend Dominick…how long have you been dwelling in this basement?” asked a dumbfounded Maria.

“Please, call me Stigma. And as far as your question goes…I’ve been down here for much too long,” sighed the priest as he sat down on a wooden stool holding his head in his hands. “What am I going to do, Miss Kevin? I’ve tried so hard to concoct this spell, but nothing seems to work. I can’t find the answers I’m looking for. I’m just…I’m a wreck, my dear.”

Night Wolf trotted over to Stigma Dominick whining and pouting. “I know, my fluffy friend,” said the priest. “Nothing about this is fair.” He treated the large animal to a scratch behind the ears and a back rub, to which Night Wolf panted and smiled with his tongue hanging out.

“You can’t keep torturing yourself like this, Stigma,” said Maria. “You have to let go eventually. Your father’s death wasn’t your fault and never will be. Time heals all wounds, but time isn’t going to be kind to your father if you go through with this necromancy. You’re already older than he was when the accident occurred.”

“I know, Maria, trust me, I know,” said Stigma as he languidly continued petting Night Wolf. “It’s just that…I never got to say goodbye to him. I never told him I was sorry. In my family, showing feelings was never allowed. I’ve kept it all on the inside for…for…” He couldn’t hold it in any longer. Tears poured from the old man’s eyes while Night Wolf whined and licked his salty face. “I’m sorry. I really am.”

Maria placed a tender hand on Stigma’s shoulder and said, “You don’t need to apologize to me. But if you really wanted to make things up to me, you’ll leave this…lab behind and learn to live your life again.”

Night Wolf rested his head on Stigma’s lap while the necromancer said, “I wish it was that easy, Miss Kevin. But if I leave this church and venture back into the city, they’ll have me locked up in an even more disgusting place than this broken down church. They blame me for everything, Maria, and I tend to agree with them.”

“You don’t know that for sure,” said Maria while stroking the reverend’s shoulders. “You never really bothered to ask their opinions, did you? Do you know for sure that they believe it’s an accident?”

Stigma swatted Maria’s arm away and snapped, “I don’t know, Miss Kevin, do you think I should take a poll? Do you think it’s as easy as waltzing back to the village after all of these years? Time never healed my wounds and it won’t heal theirs either! My father was a trusted leader in our community! People loved him and came to him for help! Who are they going to turn to now that it’s over?! They won’t let bygones by bygones, Maria. They’ll have my head on a silver platter!”

Stigma’s diatribe caused Night Wolf to yelp and back up a few paces before laying down and covering his face with his paws. Maria’s fists balled up and her face contorted into stern anger. “If you really feel guilty about what you’ve supposedly done, then you’ll take whatever punishment comes your way. Running away and trying to bring your dad back from the dead isn’t going to help one bit. For all you know, this spell you’re trying to concoct could bring him back as a zombie abomination. I’m sure that’ll look great in the family album!”

The necromancer grabbed Maria tightly by the shoulders and, with Night Wolf barking in the background, screamed, “And what exactly am I running away from?! Huh?! I’d rather be stuck down here for another twenty years than in some shit hole where the guards talk like they’re the fucking overseer! At least here I can find some closure! If your idea of closure is rotting in a cell with judgmental assholes watching over me, then you can take your morals and go to hell!” Stigma threw Maria to the floor and put minor dents in her guitar. Night Wolf rushed over and licked his master’s face before the necromancer shouted, “Get out! Leave me to my research!”

With one hand in her tear-stained face and the other holding the guitar, Maria stood up and ran up the basement steps with Night Wolf whining and chasing after her. The two of them bolted out of the church before the elf bard tripped on a rock and spent the next few minutes crying on her knees. Night Wolf licked the saltiness from her face while the bard wrapped her arms around her spirit animal. “This isn’t over, Stigma. ...This isn’t over by a long shot!” she shouted.

She gazed angrily into Night Wolf’s eyes and whispered, “Get him, boy. Sick ‘em!” The dog barked fiercely and stormed back into the church while Maria stood up and waited outside. She wiped the tears from her eyes while listening to Night Wolf snarl and chew at human flesh.

“Ouch! What the hell are you doing, you stupid dog?! Leave me alone! Stop it!” shouted Stigma from inside the church. Maria yanked the strings from her guitar and waited with her arms folded. Sure enough, Stigma came running and yelping outside with Night Wolf hot on his tail. His robes were ripped and his skin was pierced, but he was otherwise okay.

Maria caught Stigma in a headlock and wrestled him to the ground before switching behind and tying the necromancer’s hands with the busted guitar strings. “Shut up!” she snapped. The harsh tone immediately put an end to Stigma’s whining and yelping. “You’re coming with me to the village whether you want to or not! Enough of this guilty garbage! Instead of saying sorry to your dear old daddy, you’re going to say it to people who won’t end up like fucking zombies! Come on, on your feet!”

The elf bard headlocked Stigma once again and dragged him to his feet before hauling him off to the village. The necromancer pleaded and protested, but Night Wolf nipped his heels every time the whining got too intense. Maria also squeezed harder.

The trek to the village wasn’t long enough to warrant exhaustion from anybody in this group of three, although when Maria released the headlock and cut the guitar strings, Stigma clutched his chest and panted due to how hard the elf squeezed. His eyes bulged out of their sockets when he realized where he was. This forest village was complete with stone houses, tree houses, and many, many elven warriors. The fruit was more abundant than Stigma remembered it. The vegetables looked delicious enough to garner a drooling response. Would it be the last time he was privileged to eat such beautiful food?

It seemed to be that way when a group of leather-armored elves carrying poleaxes approached him with stern looks on their faces. The warriors, Maria, and Night Wolf all circled him with greedy, judgmental eyes. The captain of this squadron said in a flat tone, “How could you, Reverend? What the hell is wrong with you?”

Stigma Dominick huddled into himself and shook with nervousness. “I’m sorry…I really am…”

“You should be sorry,” said the elf captain. “You should be sorry for torturing yourself for so long.” Stigma lifted his head with a surprised look on his face. “We’ve missed you, dear friend. I’m sure you’ve missed being in the sunlight. Look at you, you’re a mess! We don’t blame you for what happened to your father. We blame you for abandoning us in our time of need. But now you’re safe with us again, necromancer.”

Stigma’s eyes were drowning in tears once again as the circle of elves closed in on him and gave him a much-needed group hug. Night Wolf pawed at his leg and howled at the full moon. Maria Kevin stroked Stigma’s bald scalp and said, “You’re great at giving sermons, but you’re terrible at listening.”

“I’m sorry, Maria. I’m sorry for everything…”

Dayton Spoke Choir

The ethereal beauty of the choir’s voices haunted Detective Matt McQueen’s mind like a schizophrenic voice. He felt as though he was being lovingly pulled into the center of this heavenly sound, but kept his pistol drawn knowing this was the calm before the storm. He already ventured into the unknown by looking for clues in this dense forest. Every once and a while a spider would land on him and he’d get chills running down his spine before swatting the arachnids away. Those voices. So innocent. So magnificent. They couldn’t have been older than the single digits. What were small children doing all the way out in this secluded nightmare?

Matt took a massive gulp of saliva and wiped the sweat off of his forehead when he found the source of the voices: a broken down church covered in foliage and insects. Another plunge into the unknown. With every one of Detective McQueen’s steps, the choir grew louder and more haunting. His finger tightly wrapped around the trigger, the cop slowly advanced toward the front entrance, which was guarded with little else than a cracked wooden door barely on its hinges. It wasn’t so much the robust structure that kept city folks away; it was the creepiness of it all.

Matt’s eyebrows furrowed and his goateed mouth curled into a dark frown as he kicked down the front door and stormed in on the church screaming, “Freeze! Paulson City Police!” His all-business attitude softened into creeped out jitters when he saw what was inside. He lowered his weapon and asked, “What the fuck?!” He was careful not to drop the pistol, but with his shaky hands, it almost happened.

The children’s choir’s lovely voices were tainted by blue jumpsuits and putty-faced masks with blood dripping down from their mouth and eye holes. Each and every one of them had puppet strings attached to their ankles and wrists, strings that lifted their arms in conformist salute when prompted by their leader.

“Matthew, Matthew, Matthew! It’s so good to see you again. Perhaps you’d like to sing some hymns with us.” Detective McQueen quickly turned around with his pistol aimed at the source of the creepily sensual voice: Reverend Laguna Pearman. No longer was he the trusted member of the Paulson City religious community. No longer was he a donor to the poor and an educator of children. All that remained of Reverend Pearman was a wicked smile and a black choir robe with his fingers tapping together playfully.

“Laguna…I trusted you!” shrieked Matt before bull rushing the preacher and slamming him against the wooden wall. Even with the barrel of Matt’s pistol planted firmly in his jaw line, Laguna’s smile never faded. “I went to your sermons every Sunday. I let my child around you. And this is what you’ve been doing this whole time?! Where’s Caylee?! She better be in here or I’ll blast your fucking head clean off your shoulders!”

“Daddy, no!” shouted a little girl from the choir, who came flying toward her father on puppet strings before clamping around his legs tightly. “Daddy, please don’t kill him! He’s going to take us to heaven to see God! This is our mission!”

“You heard her, Detective. Caylee is much happier here than she was at home. She’s not your child anymore. She belongs to Jesus Christ now,” said Laguna, still not wiping that smug grin off his slender face.

“Shut up, you snaky piece of shit!” yelled Matt before pistol whipping Laguna’s breakable face repeatedly. Caylee begged and pleaded with her father while pounding on his legs with those tiny child hands. The rest of the choir levitated in on their puppet strings to pull Matt off of their “master”. By the time the detective was being held on the ground, Laguna’s visage was covered in blood and bone splinters.

“My face…my beautiful face…how could you do this to me? How could you do this to the face of God?!” sobbed Laguna as he dropped to his knees clutching his shattered mug. While some children held a struggling Matt to the ground, others circled around Laguna and hugged him tightly while crying drops of pink tears.

“Is this what you call leadership?!” bellowed Matt. “This guy’s not your master! He’s not anyone’s master! He’s a false prophet with a child fetish and he needs to be locked up forever!”

“Don’t talk that way about my new daddy!” shouted Caylee with tears running down her masked face.

Matt’s own eyes were sore and swollen from the sorrow of watching his daughter being ripped away from him by this monster. Detective McQueen’s heart felt like it was being put through a juicer. His stomach felt like he’d taken a liver kick from an MMA champion. “Caylee, please don’t say those things,” begged Matt with all of his soul.

“I hate you, Dad! I hate you! I belong to God now!” shrilled Caylee with her fists at her side.

“Oh, Matthew, don’t you ever get sick of questioning things you don’t understand?” asked the bloodied Laguna Pearman rhetorically. “Don’t you ever get sick of taking my name in vain? You should be. It’s a mortal sin after all. And you know how we punish sinners in my church, don’t you?” That last line was punctuated by Laguna gently rubbing his calloused hand across Caylee’s trembling back.

“Don’t touch my daughter!” roared Matt as he struggled even harder to free himself from the choir’s grips.

Laguna spit out some teeth before he reached down for Matt’s gun (which he dropped on the floor earlier) and pointed the weapon at the wiggly detective. “Looks like your beautiful daughter isn’t the only one who belongs to God now. Rest in peace, Detective McQueen!” Matt wiggled his foot free and kicked Laguna in the ankle, causing his gun blast to accidentally strike one of his pupils in the chest. The false prophet along with his choir watched in horror as the child clutched his wound and bled all over the floor, dying a slow and painful death.

“No…no, no, no! Why, God?! Why would you take this innocent child from me?!” shouted Laguna as he dropped to his knees and shook his fists to the sky. “We’ve done so much for you! We’ve done everything we could to make you happy! Why, my lord! Why?!”

The shocked children’s grips were loosened by this sudden turn of events and Matt shoved them off to earn his freedom. He spear tackled Laguna to the ground and wrestled the gun out of the preacher’s hands. Despite the knee-bending pleas from the choir, Matt unloaded all six rounds into Laguna’s already shattered face, spreading his brains and skull all over the wooden church floor. Caylee shouted, “No!” as she watched the preacher’s blood run down a tiny crack in the floor.

What started out as a kidnapping investigation turned into a full-on massacre for Matt McQueen. His hands trembled as he held his now unloaded gun still in Laguna’s splattered face. The cop slowly climbed to his feet and finally holstered his weapon when the realization set in at what he’d done. Still shaky, yet firm to the core, Matt declared, “Alright, kids. It’s time to go home to your parents. This investigation’s over. Enough with the Halloween bullshit. Take your masks off and load up in the van outside.”

With their puppet strings loosened and their heads hung low, the children, Caylee included, removed their putty-faced masks. When they lifted their heads again, Matt’s newfound resolve shattered into trembling fear. Their faces were even bloodier than Laguna’s was. Their frowns were contorted beyond their natural limits. Some of their teeth and eyes were missing. They even had abscesses that peeled off parts of their faces to reveal their teeth.

“Sorry, Daddy. We warned you!” whispered Caylee. The choir formed a circle around the shivering Matt before jumping on him and chewing at his flesh. The detective’s screams were muffled by the blood pouring out of the hole in his throat. His eyeballs squished and squashed inside the maulers of the deformed children. His blood was slobbered up off the ground and his flesh was ripped and shredded. The final munch came when the evilly smiling Caylee devoured her father’s exposed heart like it was a juicy steak. All that remained of the detective were his bones and small pieces of slashed skin.

As the children lapped down the final pools of blood and chewed the last of their meals like animals, one of them asked, “Hey, Caylee! What should we do with Master Pearman’s body?”

The little brat’s grin never washed away from her bloody face when she said, “We’ve already had our supper for the evening….but we haven’t had dessert yet! Come on, everybody! Sing with me!”

As the choir carried the lifeless body of Laguna Pearman away from the church, they sang in their most innocent voices, “I scream, you scream, we all scream for ice cream!”

Vampire Empire

Michael Finn could feel his flesh getting hotter with every passing second. All he wanted was some goddamn shelter from the sunlight. He dashed through the forest at a frenetic pace, jumping over logs and slashing thick foliage out of his way with his razor-sharp claws. A small cave, a hollow log, some dense trees, any one of those things would have been nice to hide out in until daylight passed. His mind raced as fast as his powerful legs, so much so that he almost passed by his one shot at shelter.

He couldn’t see it well in the dim light, but it was a stone building with large double doors and stained glass windows. Without thinking clearly, Michael burst through the double doors with his shoulder and shut them behind him. In the darkness of the church, he was safe. He knelt down and breathed huge sighs of relief while allowing the sweat on his skin to dry up. He stripped off his black leather jacket and laid back first against the cold stones floor. It felt so good against his pale skin. Even his sweaty hair felt like heaven against the cool stones.

Several flames burst to life and startled Michael enough to leap to his feet in a single bound. Those flames were merely there to light the torches mounted on the side walls. Not only did those torches reveal the wooden pews on either side, but also the devilish and demonic artwork in the stained glass windows. There were ogres chewing off the heads of goats, devils sodomizing angels with their tridents, and hooded snakes devouring the insides of diseased rats, to name a few.

“Where the hell am I?” asked Michael as he looked around with a mixture of confusion and fear.

“That depends on what you’re looking for, my friend,” said a shadowy figure at the podium. He slowly ventured into the light and revealed himself to be a horseshoe-pattern and pony-tail haired priest in black and red robes. He sported a creepy grin and kept his fingers together in a triangle shape. “Welcome to the Church of Satan. My name is Reverend Paul Singer. Technically, the sermon doesn’t start for another hour, but you’re welcome to stay here nonetheless.”

“Um…thanks?” said Michael while shrugging his shoulders.

Paul’s smile widened enough to show his demented dental work as she slowly made his way toward Michael and placed a hand on the young man’s shoulder. “Those are some lovely fangs, my friend,” the devil worshiper said. “I’d kill for a set of those. You must be a creature of the night. Your kind is always welcome in my house of worship.”

“Uh, listen, I’ve got to get going now…”

“Nonsense! Stay with me for a few hours! We can talk all about the dark magic that surrounds us all. We can talk about your new role in the Church of Satan. Vampires are especially important to our cause,” said Paul. He wrapped his arm around Michael’s shoulder and led the shaking nerve-wreck to the darker end of the church.

The vampire reluctantly sat down at the front-most pew and gazed around at the artwork in the stained glass windows one last time. “Lovely place you’ve got here, Reverend,” he said both sarcastically and fearfully.

“Thank you for the kind words. This church has been in my family for many generations. I’m surprised it’s holding up as well as it is,” said Paul. He sat down next to Michael with a bottle of red wine in his hands. The demonic priest wrapped his arm around the vampire once more and took a gigantic swig from the bottle. “Mmmm, that’s good shit!”

Reverend Singer looked almost lovingly into Michael Finn’s eyes, making the vampire quiver even harder. Paul said, “It’s no accident that you’ve decided to use my humble church as a place to stay away from the sunlight. Satan brought you into my arms, so I’m going to make sure you’re safe today. But there’s only one thing I ask of you.” Paul leaned closer to Michael and Michael leaned backwards. “Make me into one of your own. I wish to be a creature of the night as well. With that kind of power, I can have total influence over the world. Satan’s way is the only way. What better way to prove my prophecy than with a good set of vampire fangs?”

Michael could feel that evil grin on Paul’s face and it was ripping at his soul like a pack of hellhounds on a wounded angel. The vampire brushed his arms off and jumped away from him. “Listen, man,” he said. “Aside from the fact that you’re creeping me the fuck out right now, I really can’t help you become a vampire. There’s nothing glorious about being one of us. Hiding from sunlight, constantly killing people for fresh blood, staying young while all of your friends get old and die? You’re not going to have influence over your congregation. You’re going to be lonely, just like me. Is that what you really want?”

Paul sighed, stood up, and said, “I suppose not. Maybe there’s something about my teachings that I overlooked. Maybe that’s the answer I needed to hear the most. I was so greedy for power that I…” The Reverend kissed Michael on the mouth and spit a poisonous tablet down his throat in the process.

Aside from reaching the height of his fear, Michael clutched his throat and coughed incessantly. Paul pulled out a hammer and silver stake from his robes and nailed both of the vampire’s hands to the wooden pew. Blood flowed from his hands like a raging river. The combination of coughing and screaming brought up red bile from Michael’s throat as he was now spitting chunks on the floor. Once he was done gurgling his life juices, he breathed in a raspy tone and looked down on the stone floor, purposefully avoiding eye contact with his creepy captor.

Paul grabbed Michael by the hair and lifted his head up while glaring at him with the most sinister, angry smile. With gritted teeth, he said, “Now you listen, you little shit! I offered you a place to stay out of the sunlight, so you’re going to give me payment whether you want to or not! What shall I do to you next, little boy?! Shall I sacrifice you?! Shall I throw you out into the sunlight?! Or maybe…”

Paul retried a ball gag from his robes and shoved it in Michael’s mouth. The vampire let out a muffled cry as the priest tightly strapped the sex toy around his head. Michael’s weakness from the poison and bloody pain from his nailed hands left him in a doubled over position over the pew. The sinister minister’s smile was even wider and creepier than before with his jaw fully clamped.

Still with gritted teeth, he said, “You’re going to give me your vampire powers whether you want to or not!” Paul reached around for Michael’s belt and unloosened it so that he could pull his pants down and expose his posterior. Paul then clutched at his own robe and ripped it in half to reveal a hairy, muscled body underneath only covered by leopard print underwear. “I’m going to enjoy every minute of your sweet little ass!”

With that much fear built up in his system, Michael’s short burst of adrenaline overrode the poison in his blood as he yanked on his hands to try and free them. The instant Paul put his hands on the vampire’s butt, Mr. Finn threw a back kick and nailed the priest in his testicles. Paul let out a screech of pain and doubled over before plopping to the stone ground below.

Michael used his remaining adrenaline to tug at his hands once again. The more he struggled, the more he bled. He even fought back the urge to vomit with the orange ball in his mouth. He couldn’t keep it down any longer. With one powerful rip, he pulled his hands free from the silver stake and chewed through the ball with his powerful fangs. It was at that moment that the poisonous vomit flowed from his mouth and the excessive blood drooled from his broken hands.

Michael Finn exhaustedly dropped to the floor, the coldness felt good on his sweaty, bloody skin. This place would have made an excellent hotel if it didn’t have a creep running it.

Speak of the devil, pun definitely intended, Paul grabbed the limp vampire by the hair and pulled him up once again. There was no smile this time, only an angry burst of threatening words. “I am sick and fucking tired of your rebellious shit! I should sodomize you on the altar right now! I should crucify you out on the front lawn for all of my worshipers to see! I should set you on fire with these torches! I should…”

Michael used his last burst of energy to bite into Paul’s wrist and drink his blood like a keg of beer. He paid no mind to the Reverend’s agonizing wails. Instead the vampire drank like a desert traveler dying of thirst. The cool coppery blood felt good on his aching throat. His stomach was soothed from the excessive vomiting. His hands began to heal until their wounds were closed over. The orgasmic dinner was over quicker than it started, so both Michael and Paul plopped on the cold stone floor unconscious.

After feeling refreshed from this thirty minute power nap, Paul began to open his bloodshot eyes. His pain was soothed. His wrist wound had healed over. He even pressed his thumb against his teeth to see if he had vampire fangs. They were so sharp that they drew a tiny drop of blood from his thumb.

Paul was laughing like a lunatic as he slowly rose to his feet. He held his hands out Jesus-style and spun around in happiness. He dropped to his knees, still laughing, still wide-eyed, and still grinning like a monster. “It finally happened! Satan will be so proud of me when he sees my new powers! I shall live forever in your grace, fiery one!”

“You want fire? You got it!” said a familiar voice. The shadowy figure opened the front door and stood behind it to protect himself from the glaring sunlight. Paul yelled, “No!” in classic cinematic fashion as the sunlight set him ablaze and reduced his body to a crispy black corpse. He was screaming, shaking, and spinning around during his execution. He wanted to join Satan in hell and now he had his wish.

The door was slammed shut and the church was dark once again. The instigator, Michael Finn, stood over the burned carcass and said, “I told you being a vampire sucked. Church has been cancelled, you sick prick!”

Medicine Man

Maggot therapy wasn’t the prettiest form of medicine nor was it the safest. And yet, Tetra Engel knew he had to have it. It was his sister Lily’s only chance at survival. Dressed in brown rags with a demon mask over his face, Tetra took deep breaths in and out in order to calm his nerves. One wrong move could mean certain death. Then again, knowing that there was arguing going on inside the Church of Darkness could prove to be a worthy distraction for those guarding the maggot farm.

Tetra pulled out a rope with a hook at the end of it and twirled it over his head. As the whooshing noises were getting progressively louder, he threw the hook with all of his might and hit his target: the rim of the church’s roof. He was certain the maggot farm was on the top level and getting in through the roof would be his best shot at stealing the medicine.

With the hook firmly grasping its target, Tetra held the rope and walked up the wall of the church. His faith in maggot therapy was met with stomach wrenching anxiety as he saw the designs in the multi-colored windows. He saw minotaurs slashing the throats of small children with sling blades, death angels breathing fire on veiled women, and dragons spitting acid on helpless farm animals. Such violent imagery caused Tetra to puke in his mouth a little bit as he was scaling the wall.

His blood also started to chill when he heard the argument within the church intensifying. Voices were throatier and louder. Plus, the sounds of weapons clanging together and wooden furniture breaking didn’t relieve Tetra’s anxiety any further. He took a break from climbing and wiped the cold sweat off of his forehead. He also spit out some bile onto the street below and then continued climbing until he reached the tiptop of the church.

The rooftop was ordinary enough with its flat stone surface. Nothing unusual there. And then Tetra Engel saw the steeple, which depicted a baldheaded vampire chowing down on a unicorn’s neck and splattering blood every which way. “God, these people are fucking disgusting!” said Tetra silently to himself.

Before the cunning rogue could take his first step, the middle smashed open and a purple light beam shone from within the church. Flying from that magical beam was a dark-skinned woman with a red Mohawk, a black halter top, and black baggy jeans. As she rolled backwards toward Tetra, the metal spear she was carrying dropped in his lap. Tetra tossed the spear aside and crawled over to get a closer look at her.

As soon as he saw who she was, the thief cowered backwards in an anxiety-driven crabwalk until he was at the corner of the roof. Being a thief gave Tetra a certain level of street wisdom. This woman was Anya Kolobalos, the leader of the Blood Dagger Syndicate. Anybody who messed with her would end up as a little shit on the floor after she gutted them alive with her spear and drank their blood like religious Kool-Aid.

Anybody except the dark paladin who sprouted black demon wings and flew gracefully up the purple light beam and onto the rooftop. This man was Jax Nightshade, the innovator of maggot therapy and the city’s most vile businessman. His black trench coat and steel armor underneath gave him that villainous look he always wanted. The baldheaded, dark-skinned knight slowly walked over to Anya and Tetra with a bloody smile on his face.

“Well, well, well, it looks like we’re not alone after all, Anya. I didn’t know my church had a rat infestation. In fact, those are the two biggest rats I’ve ever seen in my life,” said Jax in a smooth baritone voice that sent chills up Tetra’s spine. “Which one of you shall I exterminate first? Should I just play a game of spin the bottle? How about ink-a-dink? Or maybe I’ll just take both of you at the same time. Yeah, that’ll be lovely!”

Tetra stuttered, “L-L-Listen, Mr. Nightshade. I didn’t come here for any trouble. I just want s-s-s-s-ome of your maggots. My sister Lilly has breast cancer and I was hoping th-th-th-that…”

“Shut up, you sniveling cretin!” shouted Jax in a voice that mustered up intense winds. He smiled evilly once again and said, “Of course, if you want to have access to my maggots, you’ll have to pay just like everyone else. But judging from those rags you’re wearing, it doesn’t look like you have deep pockets full of gold. Couple that with the fact that you came here through the rooftop instead of the front doors and I know exactly what’s going on. You’re a thief. You’re a liar. You’re a fucking sewer rat!”

This arguing allowed Anya enough time to pick herself and her spear off the ground before charging at Jax with rapid fire thrusts. Jax held a purple cloud of energy in his hand like a shield and blocked every single one of those shots with perfection. The dark paladin then slapped the gangster across the face and sent her rolling to the ground. He jumped on her chest and began raining down punches with green lightning around his fists. Anya covered her face with her arms before reaching up with her free leg and placing a kick to the back of Jax’s head to stop the assault.

The dark paladin rolled off of the gangster and clutched the back of his head in mock pain. He even let out some unconvincing “ouches”. Anya tried to pick herself up off the ground again, but her arms were fried and she couldn’t get a stable grip. Out of the corners of their eyes, the two of them saw Tetra trying to pick the lock to the trap door that lead into the maggot farm.

“Hey! Those are mine, bitch!” screamed Anya as she crawled agonizingly across the roof. Tetra shot up and said, “Uh-oh!” while looking for a way out. He tried to run back to the grappling hook, but was intercepted by a flying Jax Nightshade, who grabbed the thief by his neck with one hand and hoisted him in the air.

“Why didn’t you tell me you wanted off of this roof? You can fly like a birdie if you want!” said Jax with a sick smile and gritted teeth. He dragged Tetra kicking and wheezing by his neck to the edge of the roof. Still holding the thief by his throat, Jax dangled him over the edge and forced him to look at the street below.

Tetra’s vision was fading from being strangled, but when he saw how high he was off the ground, his stomach had a knot the size of a watermelon and his eyes were tearing up like rivers. He thought of his cancer-stricken sister Lilly and how he had failed her not only as a caregiver, but also as a brother. His last supply of oxygen would be spent thinking of how shitty of a way this was to die. His eyelids were getting heavy and he was ready to sleep his life away.

And then Jax let go of his grip and Tetra got a whirlwind of oxygen back into his lungs. He snapped back to reality and had enough alertness to grab the rope next to him and hold on for dear life. His hacking and wheezing caused him to slip down a few notches, but not without looking up and seeing Jax Nightshade with a metal spear through his head. The dark paladin’s purple and green magic faded out and he fell over the edge of the church, hitting the ground with a sickening thud and a bloody splatter. The spear went all the way through his head upon impact and spread his brains all over the cement ground.

Tetra heard the sounds of Anya moaning in pain. Her burned arms gave their last ounce of strength when they put the spear through Jax’s head. This was Tetra’s chance to break into the maggot farm. With the little strength he had left after being choked, the rogue pulled himself up the rope while grunting and straining along the way. He fell down a few notches, but then started walking along the wall like he did before. He made it over the lip of the roof and rolled around on the stone floor. He laid there for a while taking deep breaths in and out and smiling to himself.

And then his breathing was hindered when he felt the presence of Anya Kolobalos sitting on his stomach with her bloody and blackened fist raised high. Her other fist grabbed Tetra’s hair and she said, “I have had it with you fucking street rats! I’ve still got one more punch left in me and guess who’s going to get it!”

Tetra grabbed hold of Anya’s hair-grabbing arm and sunk his teeth into the fried meat. She squealed and rolled on the ground in pain afterwards while bleeding all over the rooftop. The thief took a few more deep breaths and rolled over to pick himself up. Anya tried to do the same, but Tetra quickly wrapped his arms around her waist, hoisted her up, and used the last of his dying strength to suplex her over the edge. The gangster hit the ground doubled over and snapped her neck while shattering her skull on the pavement.

The thief looked over the lip of the roof and smiled in satisfaction as he saw two of the biggest scumbags lying on the ground dead and bloodied. “What a couple of morons,” he said to himself while laying on the ground and catching his breath once more. Those maggots were as good as his.

The next morning, Tetra, without his demon mask, crept happily into Lilly’s bedroom and saw her lying in her bed peacefully with a smile on her face and her hands folded in front of her. Even with a bald head and a weak body, she still looked like a beautiful warrior. “Pssp! Lilly, wake up! I have something for you!”

The sickly woman slowly stirred from her sleep and looked up at her brother with hopeful eyes. “Good morning, Tetra! Did you get the medicine?”

“I sure did. I got all the medicine you’ll ever need,” said Tetra as he pulled a jar of hungry black maggots out of his coat. At first, Lilly’s face was covered in anxious fear. “Don’t worry, dear sister. This will help. I know it will. Trust me.” He opened the jar and poured the maggots all over her cancerous left breast.

The sensation of magical maggots digging into her flesh felt like a massage when it was first happening. And then it felt ticklish, which put giggles in Lilly’s throat. And then she started arching her back in agony. She wanted to scream, but couldn’t because blood was pouring out of her mouth.

Tetra grabbed his sister by the arms and shouted, “Lilly! Don’t die on me! What the hell is going on here?! Fight it! Fight!” It was too late. The maggots ate through her breast and chowed down on her lungs and heart. Her face was covered in the vomit and blood she spit out. She was dead.

Tears were forming in Tetra’s eyes as he backed away and slowly sat down against the wall. Mild tears turned to loud sobs. And loud sobs turned to shouts of “Fuck!” and “Shit!” Curse words turned to fists pounding against the ground and wall. Tetra was a thief, which meant tricking people was part of his job. The irony wasn’t lost on him. He fucked up big time and lost his sister because of it. All he wanted to do was die and meet his sister in the afterlife. He wanted to tell her how sorry he was that he bought into Jax Nightshade’s bullshit. “The Church of Darkness? What a crock!” he shouted to himself.

His suicidal thoughts were racing harder in his mind when he took a look inside the jar and saw there were still some maggots left. “What the hell?” he said. “I’ll probably taste better than piss-flavored beer.”