Enter the Minister...
The abomination rose from the murky polluted waters of the Moray Firth and made it's way towards the depraved city of Inverness. The once morally upstanding town had descended into the depths of sordidness once it had attained city status in March 2001. Within a few months lap dancing bars started to appear on the outskirts of the town centre and brothels blossomed like disgusting alien Flora. The streets were ruled by gangs of gun toting Skins, Goths and Metalheads who dealt in hard drugs and prostitution, while the police grew fat on deep fried Scotch pies and bribes.
The amphibious horror shambled onwards, it's huge black eyes showed no sign of human emotion but glinted instead with evil intent... it would mate with a human again tonight and impregnate her with it's deviant offspring!
Three skins stood in the flickering lamplight at their post outside the old Library. They were selling jellies and bags of whizz to wee neds and old grannies alike. Business was slow as the rain pissed down. Another half an hour and it would be off to their local "The Queen Mums Teat" for a few gallons of strong ale and a poke with one of the willing Skinnettes who hung out there.
The Skins spoke in a bastardised mishmash of English and commando book German. "Achtung! Achtung! Ein untermensch! A fucking sea mutant, jesus it smells like rotting fish, kill it, schnell schnell!", Roared a seven foot tall skinhead as he pulled out his Luger and began to fire on the reptilian horror. The Sea-Daemon took three slugs in it's chest and staggered backwards, momentarily stunned, quickly recovering it drew it's own weapon and fired! The death-ray burned the three skins to the bone and they fell to the ground writhing in agony, they would die slowly. The abomination paused to enjoy the stench of burning flesh then continued to move towards it's destination, an all night cafe called "Dark Brews", a little known goth hangout.
The Minister's hand shook as he reached for the bottle of Malt that a parishioner had given him in way of thanks for a particularly fine sermon last Sunday. He had resisted the temptation for days but his resolve was weakening. Just one nip, what harm could it do on this freezing November night, it would ward of the cold and lift his spirits, everything in moderation had always been his motto. Just one wee nip...
The Minister spun the empty whiskey bottle and watched as it slowed down and stopped, it's neck pointing towards him. He felt the mind shattering rage fill his head and new it was time for him to take to the streets once again and do god's work. The ungodly hordes would be taught a lesson this night. He unlocked the old oak chest and withdrew his black rubber body suit (with white collar) and his claw hammers of righteousness. "The filth must be cleansed, the streets made clean for the good folk of Inverness. I must not give up the fight while my heart still beats!"
To be Continued...
The amphibious horror shambled onwards, it's huge black eyes showed no sign of human emotion but glinted instead with evil intent... it would mate with a human again tonight and impregnate her with it's deviant offspring!
Three skins stood in the flickering lamplight at their post outside the old Library. They were selling jellies and bags of whizz to wee neds and old grannies alike. Business was slow as the rain pissed down. Another half an hour and it would be off to their local "The Queen Mums Teat" for a few gallons of strong ale and a poke with one of the willing Skinnettes who hung out there.
The Skins spoke in a bastardised mishmash of English and commando book German. "Achtung! Achtung! Ein untermensch! A fucking sea mutant, jesus it smells like rotting fish, kill it, schnell schnell!", Roared a seven foot tall skinhead as he pulled out his Luger and began to fire on the reptilian horror. The Sea-Daemon took three slugs in it's chest and staggered backwards, momentarily stunned, quickly recovering it drew it's own weapon and fired! The death-ray burned the three skins to the bone and they fell to the ground writhing in agony, they would die slowly. The abomination paused to enjoy the stench of burning flesh then continued to move towards it's destination, an all night cafe called "Dark Brews", a little known goth hangout.
The Minister's hand shook as he reached for the bottle of Malt that a parishioner had given him in way of thanks for a particularly fine sermon last Sunday. He had resisted the temptation for days but his resolve was weakening. Just one nip, what harm could it do on this freezing November night, it would ward of the cold and lift his spirits, everything in moderation had always been his motto. Just one wee nip...
The Minister spun the empty whiskey bottle and watched as it slowed down and stopped, it's neck pointing towards him. He felt the mind shattering rage fill his head and new it was time for him to take to the streets once again and do god's work. The ungodly hordes would be taught a lesson this night. He unlocked the old oak chest and withdrew his black rubber body suit (with white collar) and his claw hammers of righteousness. "The filth must be cleansed, the streets made clean for the good folk of Inverness. I must not give up the fight while my heart still beats!"
To be Continued...
posted by Clawhammer at 9:45 AM
4 Comments:
He kicks arse for the Lord!
Whoa I wouldn't mind an evening with the Minister and his rubber garments of God!
The Inquisitor is waiting!
We must pray for the salvation of the wayward and death and everlasting torment for the wicked. Gods will be done.
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