Satan's Sucker Punch

And there is Satan still going about, ruining belief, inspiring inquiries which make Christ worship look foolish; a belief skeptical plotters dare undermine; with questions which are like old water thrown onto new water, insinuating shallowness; their cause light-less and a mind-slick, who choose chaos over the implicit understanding that worshipful honey is good.

Disbelievers say they come from reasoning, who stand up and question church patrons, dishing off the discomfort. For belief is a fool’s sickness, they mock, dressed in black; Christ’s remedies for life’s wrongs being like little tablets of vomit in the guts. And believers are upset like directionless children, hurt and bewildered by this Satanic slander.

Christ worshippers live loose and free, and celebrate scripture’s great work, every nerve in their bodies laughing, singing. Salvation, there is nothing like it, for it brings the guarded to their feet and it protects the unprotected from senseless skeptics. Such is the merit of believers gathering for worship; when the people turn out in force, and sing and dance and shout Hallelujahs.

And it is good to praise the feast that is laid before believers, when music is made in Christ’s name, and love of the feast is proclaimed in the morning, and its faithfulness extending into night, to the music of heavy metal and rap, for all make glad of Christ’s deeds. All sing for joy at what parabolic delicacies will do.

How great are the Christ’s works, how profound his machinations, yet senseless people do not know, fools do not understand. And though skeptics spring up like grass from rain and flourish, they should be ignored forthwith.

Christ’s eyes see only the defeat of his adversary Satan. His worshippers will hear of Satan’s rout, and his glory will flourish like banana trees, which grow in plantations far and wide, bearing fruit in old age, proclaiming Christ upright, as the Rock, as there is no pretension in him, and only fools will say in their hearts there can be no winners.

And whenever there is a hint of a Satanic pouf the Christians come chanting, and panting with prayers, they, who are like starving sheep chewing on flimsy wafers, for they are keen to destroy the reputation of Satan, his reputation for holding lanterns up to sorrow. And out of sheer cussedness will they try to catch out the voyeur-nonbelievers, for no other reason than to make their disappointments, when they occur, a simpleton’s complexity.

Only they are his fans now, exalting Christ who preached like a wild ox snorting; fiery words having been said by him, and of him. Satan’s role is that of tempting Christ’s only fans, that they discredit him, and proclaim his cause to be against natural law, for Christ was merely an ordinary man with a large personality. Only these triumphant believers, Satan’s enemies, feel they have the right to hold mocking parties at Satan’s expense, these who hate him for no other reason than hate, all awhile winking and rolling their eyes.

The Christ fans hope that only good is going to come to them, the reward for spending their spare time creating gossip against Satan, who should just mind his own business. Only Christ’s fans will say to themselves, “Ha-ha, we always get what we want.” We won’t let Satan’s kisser chew us up and spit us out.” They, who are hilarious at Satan’s expense try to make unbelievers look ridiculous. Who wear donkey’s ears; and pinned on their backsides is Satan’s insignia, the anus.

And only Christ’s fans are capable of tending to his cause. Believers who work for Christ the man-god, that his reputation be always above the line. They do what is right for Christ, and they will not let this Satan win and pay with temptation for their good times.

And will there ever be peace between them? For it is annually that only the fans of Christ and only the fans of Satan gather in a Nevada desert and tarry not when harassing each other, heckling, calling each other bullies, whose nostrils flare like volcanoes, running naked decorated with spray painted logos; making insinuations which grow out of hand; foul vowels, foul looks, and those insults! Their camp bonfires burning into the dawn, with holy hosts and hotdogs feeding the multitudes.