My Best Work
Today, I pushed one more enemy over the edge of a building. And the building I stood upon was the Toronto Hockey Shrine. It is a nice building. You never could hear them scream. Once over the edge and out of sight (which was fast, given that they were going straight down) it was instantly that peaceful, cold, humid and steady wind that is so Ontario on Lake Ontario. It evoked in me the sublime inner peacefulness that I had experienced during last Beltane's
The next one screamed through the rubber bag over his head. He bit through some of it, and spurted and breathed heavily. He had bit his lips. There was blood, and bright red.
He vomited some lung contents. Then gasped, and begged for mercy. I like that.
He wailed. He offered me all his money, then the sexual favors of his wife, then daughter, but not his dog.
Some, I spare, like this one, but the next one, the next one was a no.
And I thought, between pushing and pleading, why are not more Torontonians spending their time showing respect at the Hockey Shrine? It is a short distance from the Union Station. It can be reached by The Underground City.
Nobody was out outside, today. The Toronto-Canadians were underground, in lighted food courts. None saw the outside. None saw the bodies fall. They were picked up by a Chinese Theatrical Costume Maker.
Today, if you can, make it a point to spend your disposable income at the Hockey Shrine at Front and Bay. Worshipers of Set, The Snake God, will be blessed. I will be watching you, and your devotion to Set, The Snake God, will earn you privilege tokens towards White Guilt enhanced Carbon Credits. Do not stand outside in the tranquil gravel garden with the stones and the raked gravel. That is where they fall. Even a small thing, like a shoe, or a pair of eyeglasses, can hurt you when they fall from those sixteen stories. Let alone some bag of guts.
Its a fun place. You can make offerings at the MacDonalds. Ten cents of every dollar go towards to The Mitchieville Underage Pregnant Womans Motel and Tavern.
I, Fenris Badwulf, wrote this.
It is not so much becoming the Dark Lord, as finding a good one to work for.
The next one screamed through the rubber bag over his head. He bit through some of it, and spurted and breathed heavily. He had bit his lips. There was blood, and bright red.
He vomited some lung contents. Then gasped, and begged for mercy. I like that.
He wailed. He offered me all his money, then the sexual favors of his wife, then daughter, but not his dog.
Some, I spare, like this one, but the next one, the next one was a no.
And I thought, between pushing and pleading, why are not more Torontonians spending their time showing respect at the Hockey Shrine? It is a short distance from the Union Station. It can be reached by The Underground City.
Nobody was out outside, today. The Toronto-Canadians were underground, in lighted food courts. None saw the outside. None saw the bodies fall. They were picked up by a Chinese Theatrical Costume Maker.
Today, if you can, make it a point to spend your disposable income at the Hockey Shrine at Front and Bay. Worshipers of Set, The Snake God, will be blessed. I will be watching you, and your devotion to Set, The Snake God, will earn you privilege tokens towards White Guilt enhanced Carbon Credits. Do not stand outside in the tranquil gravel garden with the stones and the raked gravel. That is where they fall. Even a small thing, like a shoe, or a pair of eyeglasses, can hurt you when they fall from those sixteen stories. Let alone some bag of guts.
Its a fun place. You can make offerings at the MacDonalds. Ten cents of every dollar go towards to The Mitchieville Underage Pregnant Womans Motel and Tavern.
I, Fenris Badwulf, wrote this.
It is not so much becoming the Dark Lord, as finding a good one to work for.
posted by Fenris Badwulf at 3:09 AM
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