"I WILL DEVOUR YOUR SOUL!"
During this time of year, there are countless cases of holiday hauntings that you don't know about. As a kid, you probably heard stories about dancing sugar plumb pixies or some goofy shit like that. As a teenager, you probably witnessed these things after you took too much acid. And as an adult, we are here to tell you that they are not innocent fantasies of Christmas, but rather evil spirits summoned by Lucifer himself. No one is safe. Not even those wacky sons of bitches that celebrate that ass-backwards, 8-day long holiday with the goofy candle thing.
Hasn't anyone told them that they're celebrating Christmas all wrong?
These demonic forces can have drastic effects on otherwise normal people. Run-of-the-mill assholes are suddenly transformed into kind-hearted and good-natured human beings that treat their fellow man with decency and respect. During the holidays, people go out of their way to do good deeds. Helping senior citizens across the street and all that jazz. It truly makes us violently ill to think about.
It's just...so disgusting.
We personally have never been controlled by these menaces because we are spiritually invincible. One time God tried to send us to Hell and you wanna know what we did? We gave him a noogie, flicked his nose, and blew pot smoke in his face and told him to "legalize it, bitch". That's not to say that you aren't in grave danger. No, don't think that at all. In fact, you should be absolutely god damn terrified because any day now, these ghosties should be raiding homes, searching for host bodies. Still not scared? Think you're a regular Joe Macho, huh? Well maybe this story will change your state of mind.
Joe Macho. Even he doesn't go outside this time of year.
Two weeks ago, Vince Gorgon was like any other man during the holiday season. Disgruntled, frazzled, and downright suicidal. He didn't know what to buy anybody for Christmas, his kids were vomiting around the clock because he had decided to cut costs this year by serving a dead beaver that he found for Thanksgiving dinner, and to cap it all off, he didn't wipe his ass thoroughly enough last time he shat, so now he had to formulate a way of shaking loose the crumbs without getting skid marks on his underwear or doing that weird "asshole-itch walk" that people do to try and be secretive, even though everyone knows exactly what they're doing.
"I've been running for thirty years...and my asshole still itches."
Vince needed to get out of his house and fast before he redecorated his office "Brain and Skull Fragment Themed". He told his wife that his hemorrhoid was acting up more dramatically than that one actor in that one movie and that he needed to go to the emergency room immediately. She offered to drive him, but Vince said, "No way. This is between me and my asshole." and went on his merry way.
Hemorrhoid Vs. Hole...the titans shall quiver in the wake of this epic clash.
After about an hour of driving aimlessly, Vince stopped at a gas station for a pack of cigarettes, some jeef berky (they can't legally call it "beef" because well...it isn't), and a handful of condoms that he would never use, but he wanted to impress the teenager working at the check out counter. As he exited, he saw something. Not just any regular something. But something something. He saw a little girl with a candy cane strolling down the sidewalk. She stopped, fiddled with her mittens, and looked up at Vince. Her eyes were orbs of crystal clear innocence...so he thought. The little girl's head tilted back and her mouth opened inhumanly wide, exposing rows and rows of razor sharp teeth. Without the slightest movement of her mouth or tongue, a bellowing voice soared out of her throat. It carried a message of Christmas cheer, peace on earth, and the adorable replacement of R's with W's. And just like that...he was infected.
STAY AWAY FROM OUR SOULS, YOU BITCH FROM HELL!
"I had no idea I was possessed," said Vince. "She seemed like any ordinary little girl, but it turns out she was Satan. I don't know how I could've been so naive."
Vince returned home, seemingly unchanged, but there was something brewing deep within him. Something sinister. Something...jolly. His family immediately realized something was different with their beloved husband and father. Vince, normally a prolific spewer of dickheadiness, now wore a broad smile stretched across his face. Since his scrooge-esque ways had been putting the stranglehold on his face muscles for so long, the simple act of smiling caused his cheek flesh to rip asunder and gush blood.
America's Funniest Home Videos' Number One Fan
"When he came home that day, he wasn't my husband. He wasn't the man I loved," said Vince's wife about Vince's new nice guy visage. "He actually gave a fuck about our kids and wanted to give them all the presents on their Christmas lists. Basically he turned into a giant pussy."
Unless he's teaching that kid how to bomb foreign nations, we're going to have to give him a crash course in fatherhood.
Vince's possession soon grew out of control when the spirits dwelling within urged him to donate to charities, say "aw" when he saw a puppy, and tear up at touching car insurance commercials. On the outside, it appeared as though Vince had turned into a genuinely nice human being, but the fact of the matter was...the devil was at work.
"It says here that you failed to file your taxes on time. I'm afraid there will be a slight fee..."
Vince was soon pushed to his limits when he was suddenly inspired to hang a wreath on his front door. In a futile effort to purge himself of this holiday horror, he began pummeling himself in the head with a hammer. His skull soon split open like a glass eggshell and the demons were sent fluttering into the sky. Moaning and whaling were heard throughout the community. Also, the evil spirits made some noise too, but it was drowned out by the orgy taking place in the park off of Main Street.
Next time you wonder what Billy got on his new pants when playing at the park...you'll know.
As Vince fell to his knees on his porch, life quickly draining from his body, he knew that he had been saved. The hammer in his trembling hand was the tool of God and he could feel the cold breeze of redemption sweep across his exposed brainstem. His wife ran outside to see what was the matter and Vince looked up at her and uttered one final phrase. "Jesus H. Christ those yoga pants make your ass look huge." And with that, Vince died. His wife breathed a sigh of relief knowing that her husband was his old, douchey self again...but he was still dead.
His grave reads: "Here lies Vince Gorgon, a giant buttplug who was briefly a super cool and nice guy, but it was only because he was possessed, so now he's dead."
Now do you all see? Now do you see the dangers of falling for all of this holiday propaganda? If you even express the tiniest bit of enjoyment or contentment in the next few weeks, do us all a favor and just kill yourself. Right away. Don't even think about it. Just run out the door and attempt to pierce your head on the first remotely sharp object you see. Do the honorable thing and place your head directly underneath a car tire and just wait for it to start moving. Please, please don't misconstrue your happiness as being harmless joviality. It is 100% due to demons. So this holiday season, don't buy gifts. Don't cut down a tree or hang ornaments. Don't tell others how much you love and care about them. And for the love of GOD and all that is holy, do NOT form lifelong memories with your family...it's what the Dark Prince would want.
No comments:
Post a Comment