The continuing story of those who believe themselves born to rule over everyone except themselves
Terry Alsgelt removed his glasses, leaned back in his standard issue Torch chair, and cleaned the lenses with an air of disinterest. Hillarity Clitoris drummed her fingers and looked around the table.
Hill: So then, people….thoughts?
The Pentagon’s Colin Poledancer spoke first. He was that rare thing, a Pentagon dove.
CP: OK looky here folks, whole reason I joined this outfit was on account of mah conversion as a grunt to our Lord Be-El-ze-burb after two tours in ‘Nam. Since then there has not been a day when I had the slightest doubt that he is the one true Lord and this Jesus fella was a phoney with weird ideas ’bout how to spend Easter. There jess ain’t no God and never was. Tryin’ ter kill sumthen that don’ exist is for the birds. I done sold mah soul to Satan, and that’s why I’m still heeyuh and immortal at de age of a hunnerd an’ three.
Hill: Could you reach out and share with us what happened in Vietnam to give you this metaversal outlook?
CP: Surely can, madame Chair. I went through them doors of perception, an’ no mistake…
CIA head Mal Sextant snorted.
MS: You mean you dropped acid?
CP: Do not denigrate the Lord’s brew with such a term, sir. LSD stands for Lord Satan’s Dreamway…
Hillarity Clitoris scribbled a note that said ‘Smear Poledancer’.
Hill: So tell us Mal – what’s your take?
MS: Madame Chair, as Head of the CIA, my job definition is simply to keep everyone confused, and thus turning in denialist desperation to the channels I control as a haven of clarity. I tell everyone I am doing God’s work. I just don’t tell them my God is He of the Cloven Hoof.
WHO comms director Federica di Populate had until that moment seemed bored by the proceedings. Now she nodded with something as close as she could get to enthusiasm.
FP: Signor Sextant is the perfect servant of our Hornèd God. He has many times before preached ‘In order to lead, we must mislead’. In this regard, he reminds me of Il Duce of blessed memory: he sums up the very quintessence of fascist falsehood with consummate ease. For myself, I think the best way to kill God is to position him or her as a psycho who imposes nothing but locusts, starvation and plague terror upon our species – that is, to blame everything we do on the very same mysterious ways they worship about their opiate goody two-shoes God.
Clitoris scribbled ‘Federica bright spark, get FBI to establish if she and Mal are fucking’. Then she dropped a tactical nuclear field weapon into the proceedings.
HC: Surely fellow Torch members, we cannot kill the false God until we tempt him or her into physical manifestation?
CP: But their false God is a myth….
Hillary scribbled, ‘Early fatal traffic accident now vital to eliminate CP’ and almost had her train of thought scrambled by an intervention from WEF Reset Supremo Otto Bisbald….
OB: Nein, nein, nein… ve haff ze physical rendition of Goody God-made man mit der born-in-a-stable shit already. But get real here, Joseph got Mary up ze duff und then hat er become a nice Jewish boy who stayed at home with Mama, unti ze age of 32 so vot does ziss tell us about him?
HC: Do tell us Oh-Be-Wan-Kanobe….
OB: Vell, zat he voss how are ve sayink auf Deutsch some years ago, “Warm”.
HC: Meaning….
HC: Fine, I think that’s as much information as we need…
OB: It voss for ziss reason that unser geliebte Führer Adolf Hitler is ze Sturm Abteilung disbanding….
HC: Yes yes yes Otto, but let us bear in mind that in order to be seen as the greatly admired philanthropists we so obviously aren’t, the last thing Our Lord Satan needs is a sudden overload of Truth….
Hillarity scribbles another note, ‘We need to talk about Otto’.
HC: Can we get some other views please?
Banker’s Banker Lucy Ferolnik comes forth….
LF: The love of money for the power it brings is the root of all evil. Surely we – a gathering of unashamed evil – should not shrink from showing just what wankers ancient Jewish carpenters were for wandering around in the desert while suffering from acute dehydration and then poncing about on donkeys in the hope of taking on the entire purity of cruelty so wonderfully represented by the perfectly ghastly brutality of the Unholy Roman Empire?
HC: So you’re for a nose-to-nose confrontation then?
LF: You bet your ass I am. These retail customers we have are a bloody nuisance abusing the Earth’s oxygen supply and altogether getting in the way of Beelzebub’s perfect plan for Heaven on Earth before proceeding to Heaven in Hell as laid out in the form of a perfect golf course.
HC: I now throw this open to the floor….are we taking Satan’s sworn enemy seriously enough?
At this point, an acrid smell overwhelms the all-purpose sub-Sierra air conditioning system of the Torch conference room. There are rumblings suggestive of an earthquake as the table begins at first to shiver and then shake. Smoke spirals up from somewhere beneath any known below. An apparition begins to take shape above the pretentious table.
There are horns, there are red eyes, but above all there is anger…..
TO BE CONTINUED…..
You can catch up with this story by reading Episode 1 here
The Slog 