The Apocalypse and Satan's Glory Hole!

by Jonathan Moon

  Death turns to watch Jesus wavering in place and calling to the sand. The sand responds by spitting out a shape dressed in rags. The body flies into the air and then tumbles over and over to land in a sprawl at the feet of the son of God.

  “Christ that sucked!” The man stands and dusts sand from his robe. He lowers his hood to reveal the face of War. The same old sneer set to one side of his lips, he frowns at Jesus and then drops to his knees. “Uh sorry about that last bit, Jesus master Christ.”

  “Get up, War. Get up and kick some ass!” Jesus commands.

  “Uh. You brought me back? My thanks, Lord. I have always said that the hand of Jesus is like the uh … ever-flowing eternal life of the …”

  “Just shut the hell up and bring some help. There is an army of demons coming toward me, and I don’t feel like dying again.” Jesus gestures with one hand.

  War turns around and gets a look at the army of demons. He reaches over his shoulder for his sword, but it is not there.

  “WHERE THE FUCK IS MY SWORD?” War bellows.

  Death turns his head a second after eliminating another wave of inbound demons. “Check the sand where you were puked out!”

  War stalks to the place and pushes his hand inside the spot. He roots around in the sand, but after a moment of searching, he doesn’t find anything. He shakes his hand off and looks about in disgust.

  “For my sake,” Jesus sighs. “Moses just needed a stick. Here, use this.” He breaks a twig off a dried-out tree and tosses it to War.

  War looks it over and frowns. “I hope you aren’t serious, er, your Lord Jesus Worshipfulness.”

  “Just try it. Me!” Jesus looks exasperated.

  War holds it aloft and whistles so loud the sound echoes off the valley walls. A horse gallops out of some damn plane of existence. It shoots out, lands on its feet, and runs around in a circle. War sheathes his tiny wooden sword and jumps on the back of the monster horse. The animal screams at the sky, hooves slashing the air like razor blades as it rears back. War stands up in the saddle and waves his sword around in circles as he gallops in Satan’s direction.

  “Man, he is motivated! Is he going to take on Satan himself?”

  “Me, I hope not. He is going to call up an army.”

  “This is War we’re talking about. He doesn’t exactly use his head most of the time.”

  But War may be thinking for a change, because he runs the horse at full speed into the press of demons, waving his stick. He strikes around him, and where he flails, the demonic creatures fall. Several cracks open in the crust of the desert opens on the outskirts of the army of red. All around War, creatures rise out of the sand.

  They shamble from the ground like a desiccated army of stick figures. They rise by the tens, then by the hundreds. The call is answered from the other end of the valley as well, as a whole regiment of the Army moves in en force. They roll in in tanks, Humvees, transports and on foot. A pair of helicopters sweeps over the ground and takes up station at the outskirts of the war machine.

  War himself flashes up the length of the chasm and then back down the other side. Where he passes, the dead claw free of the earth in their multitudes. They are in all states and manners of dress. Some wear nothing while others are dressed in suits and carry bazookas.

  “I was supposed to come back and call them back to Heaven. There they are,” Jesus observes, settling in on a nice comfortable rock.

  “What happened?” Death asks out of curiosity.

  “I lost interest. The devil played me once again. He tempted me with booze and gambling, and I missed the Apocalypse.” He squints in the direction of War, who is rallying his troops. “Sorry about that, man.”

  “So this whole thing has been Satan’s doing then?”

  “Yep. Asshole.”

  Death lowers his scythe and cuts down a column of demons and zombies alike. They fall to pieces and splatter the sand with ooze and body parts. Some of the demons have burning blood; it sputters and smokes as it melts the sand into glass.

  “So what now?”

  “We wait, and we hope one of those nukes doesn’t hit us.” Jesus says and tosses back a swig of vodka. He leans a little too far back and nearly falls off his rock.

  “Ooof!” Jesus chokes on the last swallow, then breaks into laughter.

  Another flash of light, this time far to the northwest, brightens the already sunny sky.

  Leon stares up at the composite glory hole demon and the equally massive Satan as they do some kind of clumsy primal dance around each other. Their massive shadows roll over the armies of demons and undead crawling from the craters left by Satan’s hasty exit.

  “Devil dick hefty hooker, Bud,” Leon says.

  Bud frowns at Leon and asks, “Why didn’t you hack that mother fucker in his face?”

  He doesn’t give Leon, whose jaw drops and eyebrows curl at the question, time to answer. He lowers his gun and pulls the trigger, spraying the rising zombies and demons with hot death.

  The legions of Hell are all around Bud and Leon. Leon stares, mouth agape, while Bud fires recklessly into the oncoming masses.

  “Why, Leon?” Bud screams as he reloads yet again.

  “YOU … COCK BOX … FUCK,” Leon screams in frustration.

  Satan embraces the giant box the way a dog would try to fuck a bear. The box recoils slightly, and Satan waddles after it. Humans fall out of his ass as he totters forward.

  Leon searches for the words, but they don’t appear in his acid-addled brain. The giant red demon with the three massive swinging cocks is the fucking Devil, and Leon is just a peep show mop up boy. He doesn’t even have his mop bucket. If he ever goes back for it, he’ll kill that shithead Jerome for frying his brain.

  “Leon,” Bud screams between quick bursts of automatic rifle fire. “Get your fucking head in the game!”

  Leon snaps to and swings his battleaxe at the closest demon. He chases another one a few feet and cleanly cleaves one of its heads from its shoulders. The other head turns as if to complain, so Leon hacks that head off as well. Demon gore splatters his face, and the demon-killing fury he felt when he chopped Father Maniwhore to pieces returns tenfold.

  His eyes dilate and he screams, “Fuck rag demon douche gang bang!”

  “Thataboy!” Bud cries out. He slams another magazine home and pops off a few more rounds.

  A hooded rider on horseback and several zombies in desert camouflage run straight for Leon and his companion. He opens his mouth to ask Leon if he knows the hooded rider behind them. The man under the cowl reaches into the folds of his robe and pulls out a small crossbow.

  Bud manages to squeak, “Leon,” as a hypodermic needle flies from the crossbow and sticks into Leon’s back.

  The ice cream truck falls toward the giant glory hole box at an alarming rate. A we are gonna smash right the fuck into that thing rate. Chuzz pulls the microphone back and stops the truck a few inches from the top of the dancing abomination. Chuzz peers over the front of the truck and gets a look at Satan with his giant erect cocks. Then his eyes are pulled down to the glory hole box, and he feels very dizzy.

  “I am getting out of this piece of shit!” Edwina yells from the back. The door bangs open, and sunlight pours in from the rear.

  Phil grins up at Chuzz and shows him the heroin kit he wants so badly. His mouth hangs open, tongue lolling out. His eyes are filled with need.

  “Not now, Phil!”

  The monkey flips him off, then shits in the corner of the truck.

  “Oh real mature.”

  “’Ee’s an animal. What do you expect?” Goatboy asks.

  “Not that!”

  The truck swings around slowly, or maybe it is the box under the truck. Chuzz wants to get away, but the vehicle tilts back and smashes into the top of the enormous glory hole demon with a mighty clang that will surely draw the big demon’s eyes straight to them. Chuzz doesn’t want that thing to get a look at him or his ride. He picks up the microphone and prepares
to make a jump for it. He may be at the Apocalypse, but this was not what he had in mind for stopping it.

  Before he can hit the button, the girl dives out of the open doors. She lands on top of the giant glory hole, rolls out of an awesome somersault, and comes to her feet. She looks around and then the door slams shut.

  “Should we go ‘elp ‘er?” Goatboy takes a couple of steps toward the door.

  “Help her do WHAT? Look at that thing!”

  “Those things, you mean. Look at the size of those bangers. Bloody huge! ‘Ee’d make a sperm whale scared to bend over.”

  “Maybe she has a plan …”

  Edwina has no plan. She hits the giant box hard and comes out of her forward roll with guns drawn. The massive red demon looms on one side, and when she peeks over the other, all she sees is all manner of shapes and figures running about in the sand. A crazy guy on a horse is waving a twig around portentously.

  There is an army of demons pouring out of the earth. Hundreds of the things pull free of big holes and run in every direction. They don’t seem to have any leadership, which Edwina knows is a bad way to run any military outfit. Troops need direction; they need a leader. Those stilettos were, until recently, filled by Marcel. What she wouldn’t do to have the tall woman here right now to help guide her.

  But she is all alone, and there is a giant red man with three giant red dicks. He towers over the desert, playing with his cocks, shaking them loose or getting them ready for something.

  The box pulses beneath her, and suddenly she understands what is about to happen.

  “Not today, you giant red box fucker!” she yells.

  The guns come up, and she fires at the Devil, but the shots don’t even faze him. She empties two clips, and he doesn’t flinch. Now how in the hell is she going to take him down?

  This guy has to be the leader. He has to be! He is somehow responsible for killing Darla, and she wants to eradicate him from the Earth. She wants to stand over his body and piss on it. She wants to remove his head and mount it on one of his cocks. That may be problematic, however, since he is so fucking big.

  She pulls the stupid toy off her back. She knows just how ridiculous it looks, but she strapped it there as she prepared for battle anyway. The guy in the ice cream truck managed to kill a demon, and he swore it was the toy. She looks over the plastic thing with its strange images. Something rattles and bounces around inside it when she shakes it.

  The giant red Devil guy takes a step toward the box and sees her for the first time.

  “Well howdy fucking do. Do you know who I am and what I am about to do to that thing you are standing on?”

  “Nope. Don’t care.”

  “I am Beelzebub. The Devil. Satan himself. Nicetameetcha. So what is a pretty lady like you doing on my fuck box and not stuffed in my ass where you belong?”

  “Just passing through, thought I’d stop by and kill you first,” Edwina says, breathing deep to slow her pounding heart. It is thumping away like a logger on speed working over a tree.

  “Hah!” Satan roars and reaches for her.

  She flips the handle down while pointing the face at him. The dial rolls around and stops on a pig shape. With a squeak, a little two assed piglet appears, runs around in circles and falls off the edge of the box. There is a massive explosion from below.

  “Shit!”

  "Nice toy. Is that thing supposed to scare me, you stupid little twat?" Satan asks in his rumbling voice that sounds like a volcano throwing up.

  She hits the lever again, and the dial spins. This time it lands on a picture of a demon pissing into another demon's mouth. A foul spray of liquid shoots out of the center and is snatched away by the burning desert heat.

  "What do you call that? It smells like a whore. If I wanted that stuff on me, I'd rub your cunt all over my face. Now get in my ass!" Satan howls as he reaches for Edwina.

  “Get back in!” Goatboy has opened the door and is leaning out of it, gesturing with one hoof.

  She dives under Satan’s sweeping hand as it clips the top of the ice cream truck. Goatboy peers out from the doorway, now down on all fours, front feet outstretched to stop him from flying out of the door. Phil bounces up and down until the truck stops shaking.

  Chuzz even pokes his head out. His eyes go wide as he meets Edwina’s. He looks like he is about to jump out of his skin. He holds the microphone up, but his hands tremble so much that he drops it. The mike clatters across the floor of the truck and rolls out onto the top of the glory hole demon. The truck, upon losing contact with the toy, bounces a few inches into the air and then smashes into the metal box.

  "Ah fuck!" Chuzz yells as he dives for the microphone.

  "Ah fuck!" Edwina echoes as she dives out of the way of Satan's big sweeping hand.

  "Come here, my lovelies!" Satan roars.

  "Hit the one with the fucking demons!" Chuzz calls to her.

  "They are all fucking demons!" she yells back. She wants to run over and kick him right in the balls. Asshole.

  “No! The demons that are fucking each other!” he yells and crawls along the edge of the giant moving box, presumably to get whatever he dropped.

  “Like I can pick which one is which!” she screams back at the imbecile just as the box shifts again. Chuzz rolls to his right and stops himself just short of falling off the side. For a split second, she considers going over and giving him a little nudge to help him find the ground below.

  She hits the lever again, and a blinding ray of light shoots out of the toy. She holds it aloft, pointed over the shoulder of a very unhappy-looking giant red demon. He reaches for her again, but she slips back, dropping to one knee as she almost falls. In the process, the beam intersects with a meaty part of his hand and cuts right on through.

  The devil roars, his head rolling back as he screams in pain. She doesn’t know how much longer the blade will last, if it will even cut through his giant neck. She needs a smaller target. She looks over the edge of the glory hole demon, and a wicked smile curves her lips up.

  Leon staggers with the hypodermic needle sticking out of his back. He reaches for it with one hand because he refuses to drop his battleaxe. He tries to get it out, but instead the needle compresses and injects festering purple poison into his bloodstream. Leon howls as fire enters his veins.

  Pestilence, atop his steed and fast approaching, cackles at his shot. He waits for Leon to fall, but the axe-wielding maniac is spinning in large drunken circles, cleaving into the ranks of the demons around him as he tries to reach the needle in his back.

  The poison spreads throughout Leon’s body, but it doesn’t seem to affect him in a negative way. He knows he should be dying, because it felt like Hell was rushing into him. Maybe it is the bathtub acid that protects him.

  “What the fucking fuck is in my back?” Leon screams.

  “What the hell? Die monkey! I command it.” Pestilence almost comes to a halt.

  “Leon,” Bud shouts as he tucks his M-16 and rolls across the sandy battlefield toward him. “You’re talking normal again! It’s a miracle!”

  “It’s no fucking miracle,” Leon complains. “It hurt worse than bending a boner!”

  Pestilence shakes off his disbelief and shoots a second syringe that hits Leon in the shoulder. The poison drains into Leon, and the burn dances through him again.

  “Ass cunt cock torture,” Leon screams at the approaching Horseman.

  Bud takes aim at Pestilence but has to turn to blast back the demons that have snuck up behind him. He turns just in time to see a third projectile fly toward Leon. It hits him square in his chest.

  Leon drops his axe and falls backwards into the sand. Bud screams and opens fire at Pestilence and his zombies as he runs to his fallen friend.

  Pestilence laughs out loud and kicks his steed in the ribs as hard as he can. Within seconds, he is barreling down on Bud and Leon. The steed moves far too swiftly for Pestilence’s zombie horde to keep up. The dead soldiers crash head-on into th
e panicked demons. Both sides respond with teeth and claws. Powerful demons rip rotted heads from shoulders as zombie soldiers sink black teeth into wings and scaly throats.

  Bud fires randomly into the chaos and reaches Leon with another roll, very well executed considering Bud’s trollish body. Pestilence’s hood flies back as he dives after the two, arms outstretched. His long greasy hair flails wildly. His yellow eyes bulge in their sockets while his graveyard grin betrays his devious intent. Bud turns to face him, and his long greasy hair flails wildly. Thin glasses slide to the tip of his nose, and he grits his teeth.

  Leon pulls the empty syringe from his chest and crawls backwards like a crab. His long greasy hair flails wildly. His eyes are turning orange and green from all the chemicals in his system, and his mouth forms a silent scream. For an instant before the three crash together, they look like they all share the same white trash genes. The three grunt and roll into the dense crowd of demons and decay.

  Cock Chop Symphony of Destruction

  War is leading a fresh assault. The last one didn’t go so well. Bunch of zombies charged in slow motion. It took forever before they even got assembled. Then when they were closing in on the army of demons and flying vulture-like creatures, the other guys decided to charge first.

  Now the desert is covered in piles of bodies and limbs. A head rolls near Death, and he leans over and swings the scythe, scooping up the head and flinging it back into the melee.

  “GOAAAAALLLLL!” Jesus howls. He stretches out a hand and blesses a bunch of demons. The resulting explosion and mess echo across the chasm walls for a long time.

  War gestures, and a flight of helicopters swoops down and forward. Ripples of fire as rockets scream into the advancing army. Some of the demons are ripped apart, but more often than not they shrug off the fire and keep coming.

  A group of tanks rumbles into view and starts picking off some of the bigger creatures. Shells and bullets scream across the sky as a bunch of guys in green make the scene. They form up firing lines and advance as they shoot everything that moves.