Post by Venger Satanis on Jul 22, 2012 16:45:04 GMT -6
#1
Venger Satanis ran down the hall, deliberately slowing his pace to give his victim a short lead. He liked the feeling of giving them a little slack, a small dose of false hope only to take it back and dash their vain hope of escaping alive. Tonight was another routine evening of murder, mayhem, human sacrifice, sex, and cannibalism. Such is the life of the High Priest of Cthulhu Cult. Selectively thinning out the herd. Sacrifice and selective breeding are the two blades making up the shears of the Cuthulhu Cult Eugenics Policy. The Death List is kept a closely guarded secret, and all the killings are later arranged to appear as murder-suicides. From the plethora of victims (for Cthulhu Cult is an Equal Opportunity Killer), were sometimes found potential breeders; women who might by lured into copulating with Venger Satanis to serve as broodmares for the Cult.
Tonights menu consists of eight individuals: three crack addicted homeless men from the Occupy Wallstreet movement; three cyberbully hackers from the hate group Anonymous who had made fun of Venger in the past; and the other two: both increasingly irrelevent celebrities who would hardly be missed: Rossane Barr and Alec Baldwin.
The victim running before him, one of the homeless men, made the mistake of looking back. Their eyes met. Prey and predator. A sick, sadistic kind of predator pointing a spray bottle from which a greenish ooze forcefully ejaculated, covering the bums face and searing the sight out of both eyes instantly. There is a brief a spray of acidic fog from both eye-sockets, hissing like two over easy eggs tossed onto a hot pan. The crackhead faceplants onto the tiled floor, and hardly has time to intake breath for a scream before VENGER SATANIS mounts his thrashing body, plunging a guantleted fist through the dirty, unshaven face, mangling this unfortunate person whose only crime was to be unemployed and in the wrong place at the wrong time. Having survived for decades off the kindness of strangers, his habits and his false sense of security left him wide open to the diabolical machinations of Venger, ultimately leading to having his brain mashed like a big juicy skull-encased potatoe in a dark place by an evil man with a metal-encased fist. And he was one of the lucky ones.
"One down. Seven to go." VENGER SATANIS licked the brain matter off his steel encased fist.
#2,#3, and #4
"Please don't force me," Rosanne Barr pleaded, her voice becominging increasingly hoarse. A leash held her fast, the green rope leading from the metal collar to the clenched fist of the mighty Venger Satanis!
"Then I suggest you learn to like it real quicklike, you whore cause you don't have a choice," Venger replied with a vulgar wag of his green tinged tongue. He had been eating green popsicles all day, as he does whenever he's stuck driving around running errands for his fat Christian bitch of a wife. Rosanne Barr quivered, paralyzed with Fear, with a capital "F," such as only Venger can elicit. In her hand she held a green blade wtih a serrated edge. "Do it or die!" The tedium of the moment sucked the patience out of him, like lyposuction sucking the fat out of an overrated porcine celebrity. He pointed the spray bottle at squarely at her forehead. She did as she was told. She turned around and slashed the throats out of both the transients who were suspended by their ankles, inverted faces at her chest level. Their bodies thrashed and the blood rained into a trough, especially designed for this purpose. "Roseanne, I choose you to be my High Priestess. You will serve me or die like the others." The words seemed tired, as though he had repeated them many times already and was giving them one last chance to have the effect he desired. The reluctant murderess tried again to reason with the High Priest of Chaotic Unreason: "Venger, you kidnapped me. You tied me up. You slapped my ass and threatened to kill me. The only reason you didn't is that you were so attracted to me; so turned on were you that you spared me on the off chance that I might serve as your personal sex slave. And now, after forcing me to kill two Occupy Wallstreet protesters as a sacrifice to your pagan alien god, I'm supposed to fall head over heels in love with you?" She sounded incredulous and exasperated, as though she was arguing with an impestuous TV sitcom teenager and not an Evil Overlord. Dropping to his knees, tears forming at the corner of his big, beautiful eyes, Cthulhu-Incarnate continued to beg: "Yes, Rosanne Barr, I want you to be my Queen. I want to wake up every day to your face, to hear your voice as my daily call to prayer. Your soft pale body will be the mecca to which I face before I confront the world every morning. Be my everything! I will drink your toilet water! Don't make me beg," he begged. "Venger, I think you're a twisted and disgusting semi-retarded plagarist. Fuck off." She spat. Taking aim from behind a veil of tears, in defense of a breaking heart, the spray bottle was raised, the trigger pulled in rapid succession. Green acid covered the distance between them, and Venger turned, averting his tear-soaked gaze. There was a display of inarticulate screaming and wild gesticulations. In other words, a typical Rossanne Barr performance, but with the added spectacle of flesh frying while still on the bone. She was a living fountain of blood and puss being seared thoroughly by a substance which melted through her like phosphorus. Afterwards, he mopped the floor and poured her goopy remains into a toilet. Thus, the unfunniest commedienne ever to advocate for the destruction of America was finally put in her place.
# 5, #6, and #7
"March!" Venger Satanis commanded the human centepede before him. Alec Baldwin took the lead, crawling across the floor, dragging behind his corpulent nude body a chain of three individuals in Guy Fawkes masks. Each had a harness connecting his face to a jockstrap on the buttocks in front of him, save for Alec Baldwin, at the front of the human chain. This was the second hour of marching them in circles, in squares, in pentagrams, and in geometric patterns too terrible to mention. Having them march the perimeter of the room was great fun for Venger and Alec Baldwin most certainly enjoyed himself. The three bringing up the rears however, suffered tremendously. "Alec Baldwin, do you know why you were selected?" Venger slowly unscrewed the cap of a bottle containing Louisiana Hot Sauce. "Aside from your heinous flatulence?" Alec Baldwin stared uncomprehendingly and squinted. He was unable to string together a coherent sentence and was cognizant only of an intense hunger. In other words, he was quite himself, albeit slightly winded. He grunted and shook his head. "You were chosen because you're the only man I've ever truly admired." He shook the bottle in the direction of the three naked masked men making up the segments of the celebrity led human-centepede. The orange, spicy liquid was slathered all over those three chubby white bodies. They glistened like buttered ham. The Demi-God Venger Satanis continued: "When I was a kid I watched that movie where you kind of stared, birdlike, with your nicely gelled hair, and that mischievious Balwdin grin. You muttered something vauge, yet witty. You sounded so smart, erudite even, yet portrayed an aloofness which made you appear Godlike, almost like you were above the rest of us. You, like that dead bitch Rosanne Bigmouth, really made me feel inadequate." Alec Baldwin glanced around for a queue card, a teleprompter, or a director to tell him what to say. Venger Satanis waved a gauntleted hand until he had Alec Baldwins attention again: "Here, have some bathsalts." He held out a guantleted fist, and shook a baggie of powder into an outstretched palm, allowing Alec Baldwin a snort. As the award winning actor leaned over taking in the drug, that cute, perpetually gelled flap of hair fell over his taut, cosmetically tightened forehead. Alec Baldwin spoke "Wow! Didja get this in Miami? WOW!" VENGER nodded and pointed at the three naked exhausted bodies, evidentally incapable of bearing anymore of the cardiovascularly intensive perverse torture, or of Baldwin's cthonic emissions. "Alec, they want to take your picture. Doesn't that make you just mad? Doesn't it make you seeth with RAAAAAAGE?" The bathsalts worked their magic upon Alec's already delusional mind. The taste of Lousiana Hot Sauce beckoned him, teased his hunger. His mouth watered and his jaws snapped uncontrollably.
************ #8
Alec Baldwin swallowed his own tongue while engaging in what appeared to investigators an act of cannibalistic gay leather bondage with half eaten corpses. It was a voluptuous nightmare of skulls, maggots, and blood stains, with curious greenish trails of slime dripping through the middle of it all. This was the evidence of a crime which could not be understood on any rational terms, facilitated by a man who cannot be fucked with by anyone, not even Chuck Norris. So fuck off all you Mall Ninjas, Anonymous Keyboard Commandos, and Occupy Wallstreet bums. VENGER SATANIS will sacrifice your ass, so don't even front. (This also means you, Peter Gilmore, you wannabe Satanic freak. He's a lot bigger than you.)
Venger Satanis is a Messiah.
IA IA! CTHULHU MY FLAGGE
Venger Satanis ran down the hall, deliberately slowing his pace to give his victim a short lead. He liked the feeling of giving them a little slack, a small dose of false hope only to take it back and dash their vain hope of escaping alive. Tonight was another routine evening of murder, mayhem, human sacrifice, sex, and cannibalism. Such is the life of the High Priest of Cthulhu Cult. Selectively thinning out the herd. Sacrifice and selective breeding are the two blades making up the shears of the Cuthulhu Cult Eugenics Policy. The Death List is kept a closely guarded secret, and all the killings are later arranged to appear as murder-suicides. From the plethora of victims (for Cthulhu Cult is an Equal Opportunity Killer), were sometimes found potential breeders; women who might by lured into copulating with Venger Satanis to serve as broodmares for the Cult.
Tonights menu consists of eight individuals: three crack addicted homeless men from the Occupy Wallstreet movement; three cyberbully hackers from the hate group Anonymous who had made fun of Venger in the past; and the other two: both increasingly irrelevent celebrities who would hardly be missed: Rossane Barr and Alec Baldwin.
The victim running before him, one of the homeless men, made the mistake of looking back. Their eyes met. Prey and predator. A sick, sadistic kind of predator pointing a spray bottle from which a greenish ooze forcefully ejaculated, covering the bums face and searing the sight out of both eyes instantly. There is a brief a spray of acidic fog from both eye-sockets, hissing like two over easy eggs tossed onto a hot pan. The crackhead faceplants onto the tiled floor, and hardly has time to intake breath for a scream before VENGER SATANIS mounts his thrashing body, plunging a guantleted fist through the dirty, unshaven face, mangling this unfortunate person whose only crime was to be unemployed and in the wrong place at the wrong time. Having survived for decades off the kindness of strangers, his habits and his false sense of security left him wide open to the diabolical machinations of Venger, ultimately leading to having his brain mashed like a big juicy skull-encased potatoe in a dark place by an evil man with a metal-encased fist. And he was one of the lucky ones.
"One down. Seven to go." VENGER SATANIS licked the brain matter off his steel encased fist.
#2,#3, and #4
"Please don't force me," Rosanne Barr pleaded, her voice becominging increasingly hoarse. A leash held her fast, the green rope leading from the metal collar to the clenched fist of the mighty Venger Satanis!
"Then I suggest you learn to like it real quicklike, you whore cause you don't have a choice," Venger replied with a vulgar wag of his green tinged tongue. He had been eating green popsicles all day, as he does whenever he's stuck driving around running errands for his fat Christian bitch of a wife. Rosanne Barr quivered, paralyzed with Fear, with a capital "F," such as only Venger can elicit. In her hand she held a green blade wtih a serrated edge. "Do it or die!" The tedium of the moment sucked the patience out of him, like lyposuction sucking the fat out of an overrated porcine celebrity. He pointed the spray bottle at squarely at her forehead. She did as she was told. She turned around and slashed the throats out of both the transients who were suspended by their ankles, inverted faces at her chest level. Their bodies thrashed and the blood rained into a trough, especially designed for this purpose. "Roseanne, I choose you to be my High Priestess. You will serve me or die like the others." The words seemed tired, as though he had repeated them many times already and was giving them one last chance to have the effect he desired. The reluctant murderess tried again to reason with the High Priest of Chaotic Unreason: "Venger, you kidnapped me. You tied me up. You slapped my ass and threatened to kill me. The only reason you didn't is that you were so attracted to me; so turned on were you that you spared me on the off chance that I might serve as your personal sex slave. And now, after forcing me to kill two Occupy Wallstreet protesters as a sacrifice to your pagan alien god, I'm supposed to fall head over heels in love with you?" She sounded incredulous and exasperated, as though she was arguing with an impestuous TV sitcom teenager and not an Evil Overlord. Dropping to his knees, tears forming at the corner of his big, beautiful eyes, Cthulhu-Incarnate continued to beg: "Yes, Rosanne Barr, I want you to be my Queen. I want to wake up every day to your face, to hear your voice as my daily call to prayer. Your soft pale body will be the mecca to which I face before I confront the world every morning. Be my everything! I will drink your toilet water! Don't make me beg," he begged. "Venger, I think you're a twisted and disgusting semi-retarded plagarist. Fuck off." She spat. Taking aim from behind a veil of tears, in defense of a breaking heart, the spray bottle was raised, the trigger pulled in rapid succession. Green acid covered the distance between them, and Venger turned, averting his tear-soaked gaze. There was a display of inarticulate screaming and wild gesticulations. In other words, a typical Rossanne Barr performance, but with the added spectacle of flesh frying while still on the bone. She was a living fountain of blood and puss being seared thoroughly by a substance which melted through her like phosphorus. Afterwards, he mopped the floor and poured her goopy remains into a toilet. Thus, the unfunniest commedienne ever to advocate for the destruction of America was finally put in her place.
# 5, #6, and #7
"March!" Venger Satanis commanded the human centepede before him. Alec Baldwin took the lead, crawling across the floor, dragging behind his corpulent nude body a chain of three individuals in Guy Fawkes masks. Each had a harness connecting his face to a jockstrap on the buttocks in front of him, save for Alec Baldwin, at the front of the human chain. This was the second hour of marching them in circles, in squares, in pentagrams, and in geometric patterns too terrible to mention. Having them march the perimeter of the room was great fun for Venger and Alec Baldwin most certainly enjoyed himself. The three bringing up the rears however, suffered tremendously. "Alec Baldwin, do you know why you were selected?" Venger slowly unscrewed the cap of a bottle containing Louisiana Hot Sauce. "Aside from your heinous flatulence?" Alec Baldwin stared uncomprehendingly and squinted. He was unable to string together a coherent sentence and was cognizant only of an intense hunger. In other words, he was quite himself, albeit slightly winded. He grunted and shook his head. "You were chosen because you're the only man I've ever truly admired." He shook the bottle in the direction of the three naked masked men making up the segments of the celebrity led human-centepede. The orange, spicy liquid was slathered all over those three chubby white bodies. They glistened like buttered ham. The Demi-God Venger Satanis continued: "When I was a kid I watched that movie where you kind of stared, birdlike, with your nicely gelled hair, and that mischievious Balwdin grin. You muttered something vauge, yet witty. You sounded so smart, erudite even, yet portrayed an aloofness which made you appear Godlike, almost like you were above the rest of us. You, like that dead bitch Rosanne Bigmouth, really made me feel inadequate." Alec Baldwin glanced around for a queue card, a teleprompter, or a director to tell him what to say. Venger Satanis waved a gauntleted hand until he had Alec Baldwins attention again: "Here, have some bathsalts." He held out a guantleted fist, and shook a baggie of powder into an outstretched palm, allowing Alec Baldwin a snort. As the award winning actor leaned over taking in the drug, that cute, perpetually gelled flap of hair fell over his taut, cosmetically tightened forehead. Alec Baldwin spoke "Wow! Didja get this in Miami? WOW!" VENGER nodded and pointed at the three naked exhausted bodies, evidentally incapable of bearing anymore of the cardiovascularly intensive perverse torture, or of Baldwin's cthonic emissions. "Alec, they want to take your picture. Doesn't that make you just mad? Doesn't it make you seeth with RAAAAAAGE?" The bathsalts worked their magic upon Alec's already delusional mind. The taste of Lousiana Hot Sauce beckoned him, teased his hunger. His mouth watered and his jaws snapped uncontrollably.
************ #8
Alec Baldwin swallowed his own tongue while engaging in what appeared to investigators an act of cannibalistic gay leather bondage with half eaten corpses. It was a voluptuous nightmare of skulls, maggots, and blood stains, with curious greenish trails of slime dripping through the middle of it all. This was the evidence of a crime which could not be understood on any rational terms, facilitated by a man who cannot be fucked with by anyone, not even Chuck Norris. So fuck off all you Mall Ninjas, Anonymous Keyboard Commandos, and Occupy Wallstreet bums. VENGER SATANIS will sacrifice your ass, so don't even front. (This also means you, Peter Gilmore, you wannabe Satanic freak. He's a lot bigger than you.)
Venger Satanis is a Messiah.
IA IA! CTHULHU MY FLAGGE