Where Do Bad Folks Go When They Die?
Dec 11, 2020 13:48:31 GMT -6
Deana Barrows, Jack Puffer, and 3 more like this
Post by outcast on Dec 11, 2020 13:48:31 GMT -6
Righteous, morally right, or justifiable. What a concept. The question though, is who deems it morally right or justifiable? I have justified so many things to myself in the past, and Lord knows my morals are different than most peoples. This word, righteous, leaves me pondering the question, how is it morally right or justifiable to make thirty men and women fight each other for an opportunity to face a man for a championship that man never won?
James Raven didn’t win the GCWA championship, it was handed to him. He didn’t earn it, and this, in turn, makes James Raven being champion, unjustifiable in the eyes of not only the GCWA fans but everyone in the locker room outside of his little clique. And if we’re being honest, I wouldn’t be surprised if some of them weren’t a little salty about it too.
Honestly, as much as I believe seeing that GCWA championship around the waist of James Raven is bullshit, I hope he beats Mack. Because I want to be the one who personally takes that unjustifiable and morally corrupt championship from James Raven. To do that though, I have to prove myself as righteous. If it means outlasting twenty-nine other men and women to do that then that is what I will do.
Will it be easy? Not by any stretch of the imagination, but I have never led an easy life. This rumble to prove yourself as the righteous one is filled with legends and Hall of Famers like Big Biffard, Ed Houston, and both members of Sins of the Father. It’s got the stars of the future like Kylie Moore, and Raging Dead. It’s got new faces coming out of the woodwork, and it even has the other members of Legacy trying to protect the crown of the unjustifiable and morally corrupt champion.
But I don’t fit into any of those groups. Not a legend or a Hall of Famer, certainly not an up and comer, not new, and certainly not a Barrows bootlicker. I suppose that leaves me as what I have always been, and always will be… the Outcast.
Where do bad folks go when they die?
They don't go to heaven where the angels fly
They go down to the lake of fire and fry
They don't go to heaven where the angels fly
They go down to the lake of fire and fry
Lust
Christian.
Christian, you know you want this.
My eyes slowly blink open and in front of me, I see Lissie Hope. She is dressed in her wrestling gear, but her top is pulled up higher than normal, and her bottoms pushed down a little low.
You’re a little young for me girl.
You want this.
Lissie reaches her hand into the front of her pants and her hand moves around a bit and then slowly comes out of her pants. In her hand is a prescription bottle. Lissie performs the Hillbilly mating call and jingles the pills in the bottle.
This is what you want.
Without a word, I begin running for her, but I move in slow motion. I extend my hand reaching for the pills and just as they are at my fingertips Lissie and the bottle fade away into the void. I lunge for her, well more specifically I lunge for the bottle, but I begin to fall as both her and the bottle fade away. I continue falling, into the darkness, falling into nothingness. For a moment it is relaxing, is this death, is hell just nothingness?
Suddenly, the falling stops as I feel myself being caught in the arms of several people. I look and see that I am being cradled in the arms of several women, Alice Knight, Atara Themis, Betsy Grainger, Kylie Moore, Cartier, and Sara Cross. They are all dressed the same in white robes, and they all cradle my body with Alice stroking my hair. They hold me as a mother would lovingly hold her child. For an instant, I feel fear, but it quickly subsides to comfort and relief. I feel like a small child who has fallen on the playground and is now in the comforting arms of his mother. Alice smiles at me as she strokes my hair and speaks to me
Christian, you cannot stay here.
Anxiety overwhelms me.
Why, I…I feel so safe and warm here.
This is not your life. Your life is a hard and cold one.
Alice smiles, and her face changes to that of my mother. I no longer feel safe and warm, I had never felt safe or warm in my mothers’ care. I look at the other women’s faces and one by one they all morph into my mother. I push away and move to my feet, and step backward away from the harem. I watch as they pursue me, crawling on all fours and their faces distort from my mother to a demon-like creature.
CHRISTIAN HELP ME!
I look to the dark distance where the scream came from. There I see my ex-wife Nicole with a metal collar around her neck. Connected to the collar is a chain, and holding it is a Devil looking James Raven. He sits upon a throne made of bones, his skin is redder than my eyes after a five-day bender, with horns like a ram twisting out of the top of his head.
HELP ME!
She screams again, and I feel an uncontrollable urge to save her. To get to her I must make it through the demon harem. I take a deep breath and steady myself. I charge through the harem of women, they reach for me, but not to hold me but to try and persuade me with lustful wiles.
“Christian, stay here with us,” they all say and unison and this stops me for a moment, and when I hear the rattle of a pill bottle, I find myself turning slowly. The women’s face has turned back to their normal ones, but their robs are gone leaving them fully exposed. With them is an array of bottles, both alcoholic and prescription. They begin to pour liquor upon their flesh, tempting me with their eyes and bodies.
I feel myself moving towards them, ready to give in to my fleshly desires. This wouldn’t be the first time I had left Nicole to fend for herself while I give in to drugs and whores.
CHRISTIAN PLEASE!
No, not this time. I would not give in to my lust for flesh and mind alteration. I stop short of the harem and as Betsy reaches for my shirt, I take a step back and shake my head “no”. I watch as they fade away into the darkness and then turn back to the best woman I’ve ever known, the one I let slip through my fingers, the one who needed my help but I always let down. This time, I will not fail her.
I move closer to Raven and Nicole, but as I get within reach of the throne, a wall of flames erupts. The heat from the flames burns my flesh even from a distance several feet away. I am helpless. Helpless to a demon, just as I had been helpless to so many demons before.
Outcast, you so desire to face me in a realm of battle, but you are not worthy. The only master you have ever served is yourself. You must be broken, I will happily do that breaking, but only if you prove yourself worthy of a battle with someone of my stature.
Worthy? You’re the one hiding, you a big red bitch.
BLASPHEMER!
The fire turns from a wall and seemingly comes alive. The fire begins to chase after me. I try to run but it is useless as the fire overtakes me. I feel the flesh burning from my bone, I close my eyes and accept death, wondering what is on the other side.
Then there is nothing.
I open my eyes to pure nothingness, a feeling of floating in silent darkness, nothing to stimulate any of my senses, truly this is hell, floating in dark nothingness. A voice, deep and booming rings through the nothingness, the voice of the Devil Raven.
You will prove yourself before I break you and force your knee to bow to me. It is already written in The Codex Gigas, you are destined to be mine, and maybe just for fun, I will make sure that Nicole meets you here. And wouldn’t it be a shame if the family wasn’t whole?
Victor…you son of a bitch.
YES! Your son will be called down to be reunited with his mommy and daddy. So that they may both watch you break and bow, over and over again, and so that you can see the look on their faces before I tear their bodies to shreds in front of your eyes day after day.
Suddenly I fall from the nothingness to a cheaply carpeted floor. The smell of cheap and processed food, along with flatulence fills the air. I slowly rise to see a giant table, set up as if it were a buffet, but at that table sits only one man.
Gluttony
I move slowly towards the table, and as I do I reach to my inside vest pocket for a Newport, only to find the pack is empty. F**k, this is hell. As I get closer to the table, I recognize the girthy individual behind the table, Big Biffard. The rotund one notices me, and through a bite of a Turkey leg, and a drink of a goblet that pours liquid on him then in him he speaks.
You look familiar. Do I know you?
This fat bastard, he knows damn right who I am. He is just a few notches below TLS on my revenge list. I honestly never thought he’d live long enough for me to exact revenge on him. I assumed he’d have died of a heart attack or diabetes by now, but here he is in front of me in all his massive glory.
You know damn well who I am.
The Fat Bastard stops chewing his spaghetti long enough to study me. He looks so disgusting with sauce all in his beard and noodles hanging from his mouth. With a slurp, the noodles are sucked into his mouth.
OUTHOUSE!
That son of a bitch, still using the same dumb insult twenty years later. The mind of a child, and the body of a sumo wrestler that ate another sumo wrestler. His childish bullying used to bother me; I’d lose what little bit of self-control I had at his childish insults. That was my fault, that left him as the mental winner. How sad am I to lose a mental battle to a real-life Lennie Small?
Still to this day though just watching this obese slob stuff his face makes me want to go all “Law Abiding Citizen” on him with a T-Bone. As I watch him shovel a pint of ice cream down his gullet the thought of shoving a bone into his carotid artery intensifies.
With a mouth full of slop he continues.
You want to face Raven? AH HAHAHAHA!
Watching this mass of flesh and hair laughing at me makes me feel the urges of my twenties. Not the urge for a drink, but the urge for violence. I charge forward, jumping on the table and going for Biffards throat, but he is so big he doesn’t have a neck, just a massive head on shoulders. His massive belly bumps me off the table to my back. He stands from his table and looks larger than ever, and seems to expand by the second.
He grabs me by the throat and with one hand lifts me from the stained carpet floor and slams me onto the table. He strangles me with one hand while shoving chocolate cake into his mouth with the other hand. I try to peel his massive hand off of my neck but cannot budge is jumbo frank like fingers, but then I feel it. A steak knife, I pull it into my hand, and with his attention on the cake, I plunge the knife into his swollen stomach.
Huh?
Biffard looks down at my hand holding the knife in his gut. I place both hands on the handle and pull down with all my might, ripping the already thin stretched flesh. The contents of his guts spill out onto me, the smell makes me gag. Biffard drops the cage and begins grabbing his intestines trying to shove them back into his body. He staggers back a few steps and says, “Kenny, come help” before toppling over.
The building shakes as his body falls to the ground. The shaking does not stop and the building begins to crumble. I roll off of the table and under it, the smell of the guts on me still gagging me as I duck for cover. I watch as the building crumbles around me leaving me once again in darkness.
I raise my head and the table is gone, the carpet is gone, Biffard is gone. Everything is gone, but my reflection appears. I stand and look at myself in one of the mirrors that now surround me. I am covered in bile and guts, and I wish I had a cigarette.
I hear an annoying voice behind me say, “Mirror, mirror in the wall, who is the worthiest of them all?”.
To be Continued.