View Full Version : Apocalypse Club


Baal Moom
02-11-15, 08:38 PM
Loathing keeps us strong, Brethren! As our most respectable brother Jeremy can attest, the indisputable health benefits of deeply rooted hate are indisputable. Lo how shines his musculature in the glow of the nuclear winter! Hate circuits, overflowing with hate energy, keep us all alive in the limitless desolation. Mad Max couldn't keep up with us. Show 'em, Jerry. Show them the Spike! Mel Gibson's head fits perfectly, doesn't it? We're going to shrink it later and kowtow to it in our hate rituals. That'll be an exciting addition, wouldn't it? Marty McFly is so shrivelled up you can barely recognise him. That pair of breasts we fitted him aren't even funny any more.

So anyway, folks. Tonight's poker game will be very exciting if anyone has bothered to bring actual money. I know the dead pressies are scant nowadays, but a hate meeting without a poker game is like a mule without a third head. Which is preposterous. AND... A poker game without money is, do I have to remind you, a capital offence in the eyes of the Goddess. A mortal sin, if you will, for which Her Celestial Midriff will descend to devour you and all you are dear to, which will mostly be you.

Okay, I suppose we'll have to make it make-believe poker again. Abusing the loophole till it shrieks, and then keeping on abusing it. The divine authorities will not stand for it for much longer, gentlemen and gremlins. Vengeance will be fierce, blood will overflow, children will weep. The couple we've still got somewhere. Possibly. You do need to find those kids of yours, Rick. We can't go on sacrificing straw puppets. That's indecent.

So next on the agenda is, er, Larry's birthday. Tell you the truth, Larry, we can't stand you and we've been planning to sacrifice you to the Goddess for a long time, on account of the lack of children. It's Bob's dog, Bill's grandma and all that sacrificial blood you stole. What's up with that? Where are we supposed to get that stuff now, huh? You do have to anoint the straw puppets with some blood. But... While we were finally getting ready to axe you, Lenny remembered it's your birthday today. So you'll get away with having your leg amputated. With Neddy's rusty ****-saw. If you survive, we'll let you go into the wasteland to try your fortune. Don't be sentimental, it's boring. Jeremy, take him to Neddy's cage. You haven't fed him for how long? A week? That's too lenient! We need some food for ourselves as well. Once a month, no more. All right, take him away.