The Apocalypse and Satan's Glory Hole! (1) (52 page)

“Jesus!” Death jerks upright at the bar. He thought he heard a little kid screaming.

“What?” Jesus lifts his head, and beer drips from his hair.

The ground shakes, and the building shifts. Dust and debris fall from the ceiling and make a mess of the already crap-littered floor. A couple of bottles fall over and smash to the ground.

The band plays on. The singer must think the crowd isn’t rowdy enough, because he leaps off the stage and jumps around while howling into his microphone.

“I like these guys.” Jesus grins and drops his head back onto his arm, which is the only thing that stops him from smashing his nose into the bar top.

The building shifts again, and a hole opens up in the center of the room. Red light pours through, and the smell of sulfur fills the space. Death doesn’t like this one little bit. He puts his arm around Jesus and helps him to his feet. Together, the two men stagger out into the parking lot.

A couple of cars are here, but nothing flashy. He picks a minivan and pushes Jesus into the front seat. There are no keys in the ignition, but he finds a set in a purse that is tossed across the back seat.

The van starts with a soft roar. He backs out of the driveway as part of the roof collapses on the bar. Another hole opens up behind them, and more gaseous fumes leak out.

“Looks like Hell is coming to Earth after all,” Death mutters and then laughs out loud. Hell on Earth. Just what he and the other Horsemen have always wanted.

The minivan doesn’t quite leap forward like the Road Runner did, but it does have a peppy little engine. He gets on the empty freeway and heads away from Vegas.

Death looks in the rearview mirror just in time to see another hole open up behind them. Furious red jets of flame shoot into the air.

“J-man. You gotta see this …” he trails off as his eyes return to the road in front of the minivan. He tries to slam on the brakes, but it is too late.

Rising out of the middle of the street is an enormous evil red face a little smaller than Satan’s. It opens its mouth wide and accepts the minivan like an offering.

“Jesus! We could use a blessing right about now!” Death yells as the car is swallowed by darkness.

The son of God rolls over and farts in his sleep.

This is Not
The
End
…

The adventure will continue in the second volume:

The Apocalypse Strikes Back

Prepare to be ass-fucked into eternity!

Mr. Long and Mr. Moon would like to thank

Strobe lights in strip clubs, arm sized sex toys, D.A.R.E. programs, peppermint, candles that smell like peppermint, trees, trees that smell like peppermint sex, candles that smell like trees, guinea pigs, Samurais, Porta-Potties, Simon, but not Garfunkel, people that cover Moon's shifts at work...suckas, thumb wrestling, high riding thongs in-conjunction with low riding jeans, cell phone nudie pics, werewolves, but not vampires, tentacles, strip clubs that serve hard liquor, foreign accents, facebook trolls, anything on fire, sour diesel, whiskey sours, junkies and revolutionaries, all professional wrestlers from the 1980's, sex swings, revolutionary junkies, broad sides of barns, polar bears, ninjas, clowns, but not mimes – fuck those guys. Our family and friends, any rant by Mel Gibson, Dr. Douchingham, asparagus pee, tax returns, Fuckin’ Phil, commas and periods, rapture survivors everywhere, radish breath,
The zomBcon Crew, Everyone at Permuted Press for being cool as fuck,
Mr. Hand’s video, Richard Pryor, whoever fists Harold Camping to death, the makers of Viagra, everything that comes out of Sarah Palin’s mouth including my di .., Fringe, tequila and all the bad decisions it leads to, the lizards that run the government, Junk Monkey Marshall, chicks in short skirts, nose hair trimmers, Doc, alien death rays, Edward Lee, America – FUCK YEAH! Mark, George, Stewie, Stevie, Amy Pond, Lee, Carey, Carrie, Crystal, Ellie, Joe, Moe, Shmoe, Arnie, Maberry, Brown, Brown, Brown, Brown, and Brown, Derek, Patrick, Jacob, Michael, Stephanie, Louise, Zee Zak, Matt, Clyde, Chip, Chuck, Chloe, Netflix, blackjacks, camel toe, moose knuckles, zip ties, napkins, recorders, Amish kittens, strobe lights, Sony’s shitty security, Rob’s bigass head, Laura’s killer pimpage, EZ Glide, Michael Baysplosions, Charlie Sheen, the numbers 6, 6 and 6, smug douche-waffles dressed in red robes at conventions, Jack Bauer, Karl Malden and Yul Brenner’s love child, Joe Pesci, chicken lips, G-strings, El Fuckaroonie Airlines, King Leonidas and the other 299 idiots, anyone we may have missed.

…and FUCK THE ACADEMY!

Meet the Authors

(Hide your pets!)

After completing
The Apocalypse and Satan’s Glory Hole
, the authors, Timothy W. Long and Jonathan Moon, fled the country. They were last seen in Brazil, sipping Singapore Slings with Mescal on the side at the Cross-Eyed Donkey bar.

The men are wanted in connection with a string of bowling ball thefts, zombie resurrections,
and miniature bulldog J
ell-o wrestling. If seen, the men are considered wacked and hyper. Caution is advised unless you have a fresh supply of nitrous oxide to share.

Clergy leaders have sworn that the two men will be brought to justice for crimes against the Church and literature in general.