Wednesday, March 21, 2007
Complex God
Not too long ago I was propositioned by one of the World's leading film stars (I can't say who) into joining his mysterious and controversial religion. He told me of the influence his group had, the effects it could have on my life and the amount of easy poontang that was available at their High Church over in Hollywood. I was on a plane immediately.
The church was a large and smart office building stuffed full of bright young men and women with relaxed smiles, healthy physiques and belief in spaceships; I knew this was the place for me. I was inducted into the religion with a series of tests that checked just how liable to scream I was when burnt. By their measurements I was 84% too likely to scream and as such I was put on the bronze pony-track system which would move me toward the ultimate goal of total silencity.
Over the next eight years I spent nearly £600,000 ($12,000,000) on the programme and slowly but sure moved from my weak and pathetic screaming to almost total stoicism in the face of fire. Finally I managed a full chip pan of oil over my chest with barely a whimper and it was time for me to be given the secret.
I was led to a dowdy, temporary classroom in the rear yard area of the High Church, and was given a small child-size plastic seat. I sat and waited for what seemed like an age until Mr Doyle, the number two at the Church, entered with a manilla folder under his arm. He placed the folder on the small table in front of me and told me to "Look now for you shall never see this again." He left and I opened the folder to be confronted with what could only be described as a picture of Hell itself. Any law you can think of was being broken, each virtue we believe to be true was being cast aside. Innocence was being wrenched from children, the elderly were sullied and mocked by wild animals, the dress-code was defecation! And there at the centre of it all was the man that had led me into all of this; the Hollywood star.
Who was it? I cannot say, but I would urge anyone who does find out to keep it to themselves. These people are not to be trifled with and one wrong move could mean certain death.
The church was a large and smart office building stuffed full of bright young men and women with relaxed smiles, healthy physiques and belief in spaceships; I knew this was the place for me. I was inducted into the religion with a series of tests that checked just how liable to scream I was when burnt. By their measurements I was 84% too likely to scream and as such I was put on the bronze pony-track system which would move me toward the ultimate goal of total silencity.
Over the next eight years I spent nearly £600,000 ($12,000,000) on the programme and slowly but sure moved from my weak and pathetic screaming to almost total stoicism in the face of fire. Finally I managed a full chip pan of oil over my chest with barely a whimper and it was time for me to be given the secret.
I was led to a dowdy, temporary classroom in the rear yard area of the High Church, and was given a small child-size plastic seat. I sat and waited for what seemed like an age until Mr Doyle, the number two at the Church, entered with a manilla folder under his arm. He placed the folder on the small table in front of me and told me to "Look now for you shall never see this again." He left and I opened the folder to be confronted with what could only be described as a picture of Hell itself. Any law you can think of was being broken, each virtue we believe to be true was being cast aside. Innocence was being wrenched from children, the elderly were sullied and mocked by wild animals, the dress-code was defecation! And there at the centre of it all was the man that had led me into all of this; the Hollywood star.
Who was it? I cannot say, but I would urge anyone who does find out to keep it to themselves. These people are not to be trifled with and one wrong move could mean certain death.
Labels: lizard, pervert, Tom Cruise
