Chapter 5: THE EXECUTIVE ORDER
The Executive Order:
The musical genius of the king of darkness flows from thy radios and flash from thy plasma screens (and for some, from their floor model TV’s from the 80s and their double knob televisions from 1983), and from rap music, created by artists that nine times out of ten never stepped a foot (or an inch) in a ghetto or project, but sing and rap and dance around on stage with thy buttocks applauding thy efforts via baggy jeans and panty hose, even among the night of the living dead.
Wham! And then the other cheek was slapped, brutally, and ye walk away abused, bruised, bitter in the end, and unapologetically malicious when the smoke clears.
Ђe needeth for the root of all evil to grow and become the most powerful currency in the world was a necessity in these crazy times of recession and economic blah blah. In God we Trust, ’ey? Yea, Okay, keep telling yourselves that.
What god art they talking about?
Don’t worry, I’ll wait, folks. Daily, till they art out of breath, America and abhorrent politicians themselves perform public acts of discrimination towards a group of people, or groups of people of a certain skin color, with outlandish and outspoken Christian views through the media, “We believe in One Man, One Woman Unions,” and is a requirement amongst Pastors all over the country, yet on the news itself was the answer to those outlandish remarks every time a politician is caught cruising for those of his gender, male to male, and Pastors falling off the alcoholic bandwagon long enough to crawl and eat the dust of the earth, choking as he comes to realize that he used to be the very drug dealer sucking the life out of his neighborhood, and neighborhoods abroad in places he’s traveled.
But repentance goes a long way, if ye believe in it all, and in the scope of it all, and in the gospel.
§ome Pastors art genuine, and others art phonies. I laugh sometimes watching them in action, in a human guise I attend a Pastor’s sermon and study the way he moves, and how loud he amplifies his voice, and how low it drops with perfect harmony, and the flashy style of dress.
§ometimes I am even moved to pick up the Bible myself...But it was short-lived. To get a compare and contrast analysis report, I unleash my inner demons with power and precision and they sprint faster than the speed of light, so fast light didn’t toucheth them, all about the church, and inhabit human bodies, ah!, they looked splendid in their respective human guises!
§ome of those demons invade other chapels, synagogues and churches and cathedrals worldwide. Ђey art my…surveillance systems, if ye will. Ђey art my cameras and microphones capturing everything in Real Time.
Ђose wicked sources of light and darkness, meshed together into a plethora of misconstrued decadence, were my eyes and ears, and I can see through their eyes and listen, effectively, with their ears, and I get a panoramic view of various Pastors and arch dioceses and Σlders and female Pastors and evangelists speaking in tongues. Some were genuine and, well, some were not. It was all done for show, to try to out due one another. The aim of spectacle was money. I was still seated in the church I attended, with my legs crossed, a high heel, of expensive value, twenty four karat gold, with platinum and titanium spikes, catching all the sisters’ attention, dangling from my big toe.
Yawning, I watched the Pastor make a complete fool of himself.
I’m closely studying him; my eyes narrows fixedly on his theatrics, and the members of his congregation art watching me, in amazement, and complete awe.
I sparkled like glittering sapphires, flakes of gold illuminating my entire body. And I sat there as if I hadn’t a care in the world.
Wows and Ohs and Oh my God’s flowed fluidly, pouring into my ears like fine red wine in a German flute glass, shaped like the daffodil of Life.
I was a bit annoyed. If they were there to praise “God,” “Jehovah,” why were they chanting, “Oh my God!” when I began to sparkle like gold? And I’m not supposed to question “In God we Trust” on American currency, the green kind that folds?
I was a visitor in their church, a passers-by too exhausted from hunting, trying to understand the scriptures the Pastor recited like a well-rehearsed school play, a visitor that wanted some sort of Biblical healing, some sort of Inclination that He really Does Σxist, God…
And I couldn’t focus because the epitome of my divine Immortality shone through the human guise, conflicting it in a sense, and the roar of sound from the church members, of all ages, overpowered the Pastor’s boring lesson as taken from the Book of Leviticus, a Null and Void account shackled under the Old Covenant, an Old Covenant that was put out of order by the introduction, and the implementing, and the Σxecutive Order of the New Covenant, as told by Christ, from what I hear, during Ђe Last §upper. Ђe eating of bread amongst his disciples, Christ’s flesh, and the drinking of wine, his blood, was called “Communion.”
His blood and his flesh was Life itself in a whole, how it looked before a deflowered-by-the-serpent Σve populated the earth with her children, and an incestuous pool of sex, lies and murder that hath it billions strong today, the result of her weakened flesh failing her in the Garden of Σden around an angry serpent, the Devil, that was cast from Heaven before Adam drew his first breath.
Ђe Pastor glared at me, and pointed. “Σvil! I rebuke ye, Devil! Do ye people see ye art being tricked and deceived?”
“Um, I beg thy pardon? I was trying to enjoy the show, the elegant show of mysticism, yet thy weak performance as Pastor behooves me. You’re fired! I want someone else giving the Word, then maybe I will start to believe it!”
Highly unlikely, of course. His words fell on death ears. His members were too bedazzled by my appearance and how perfect and perfectly flawless I was. Bewildered, they started rising from their pews and chairs and approached me, slowly. Flowing into my ears were more sounds of praise, towards me!
“Wow,” and “Oh!” and “Oh my God! §he is the most beautiful woman in the world, look at her hair…it shines like gold!”
His hands trembling with fear, the Pastor wiped sweat from his face as I stared at him, and I never took my eyes off him, not even for an instant. I disabled my ability to blink.
“And her eyes twinkle like sapphires!” someone else says!
Why, thank ye. But keep away from me peasants! Tell them, Pastor! Give a direct order! You’ve been swindling them anyway through the hidden false idol deep inside of you, keeping thy mind on their money.
I am a Queen. I merely wanted to be entertained.
Ђere goes my rest and tranquility. Now I couldn’t continue rejuvenating myself from hunting all night, prior to attending this mockery of a church. Oh, No! No! Ђey art getting closer! Walking and pacing as if in a zombie state and then losing all restraint and bum rushing me, and I couldn’t take that many mortals coming at me, charging at me at one time, in unison. But I could certainly kill them all at once, if it comes down to it.
Get away from me ye dirty animals!
My skin crawled, and it was hard like marble, so imagine how it looked.
Gosh! No! I mean it! I mean it! Get away ye eunuchs!
I felt like Queen Σlizabeth retiring to her Quarters for the evening with an American report on banking activity in the great ole U.§ of A, and finding a battered crack head in her bed coated with baby oil, and smelling of resin and lavender, tainting her fine silk.
But I’m not Queen Σlizabeth and I definitely have more wealth and clout that she’ll ever have, and I didn’t have to own §ocial §ecurity and Disability to achieve the feat, if she indeed does own it. It wasn’t like she drank blood or a demon lived inside of her, like I.
I’m merely speculating.
Or am I? Ye do the research, Mortal…
Jumping over the possessed turned crazed bunch of religious folk; I can smell the fried chicken in the air, and, sniff, sniff, gumbo.
Oh! As much as I hate to say it, I love gumbo! Cut up some human heart, dice human lungs like chopped vegetables, sauté their brains, with a side of blood sauce, and then we’re good to go.
I’m just saying…
Curling my body in a ball, I landed in front of the Pastor, slapped him with his bible, and slit his throat. Ђe Holy Bible hit the floor.
I can recall the stunned look on his face, and that gave way to startled realities, and then, and only then, a flash of light and darkness danced across his handsome face as his hands rose to the parameter breech in his neck, and no amount of pressure stopped the bleeding, so give it up, Dead Man Choking.
Ђe shift from admiring my porcelain body, and my angelic face, and my irresistible power shining through a human guise, to a look of horror was one for the books, literally.
Frightened, devastated and scared members yelled and screamed and were petrified.
§ome were in shock; several women fainted, and were out cold…
And a few good men ran off like deflowered whores, and I clapped sonic booms throughout the Main Assembly, locking all the windows and doors, and placed an electrical current about the inner parameters of the doors and windows, so whomever approaches it, and comes within five feet of it, will be electrocuted to death— Oh, there goes the first victim.
He was fried to a crisp as he dove for the door handle…
There goes another human, fried.
§moke snaked from his body, the smell of cooking flesh filling every nostril, and his soul tried to crawl out of his body, looking around wildly at all the devastation and chaos, one Pastor’s sin, collecting money from his members to invest in a Chinese religious cult, that required the slaying of elephants and lions, and I, the protector of animals and all the fowls of the air, couldn’t stand by and watch it any longer.
I spared the children.
Why, I didn’t know.
Maybe they were as pure as a cougar’s birth, as pleasant as a newborn.
I may hate mortals, but I had a soft spot for children.
§o I clapped my hands in front of me.