angryjew

See Part 1 HERE .

…the Seer’s wizened face contorted in disgust as he beheld the slumped form of the vocalist, who shook in fear as he averted his eyes.

“You think very highly of yourself, I know.” The Seer’s voice dripped venom.  “You think you are very good-looking.  You think the world owes you everything.  You think that you are immortal.”

“No,” muttered the vocalist, his orange, frizzy hair clumped and matted against his skull with rancid sweat.  The smell of primal fear and fecal matter emitting from him made a few of the charedim retch in nausea.

“No, not at all,” mocked the Seer, his liquid lightning eyes unforgiving razors in their disdain.

The Seer’s arms again reached heavenwards.  “My loyal students,”  he began, his voice ringing through the tumultuous winds that subsequently arose, churning the dust and litter.  A filthy, plastic Rami Levi grocery bag blew onto the vocalist’s face like a merciless jellyfish.  It took several attempts fueled by fear of suffocation for him to spit it from his face.

“The holy Sabbath nears,” continued the Seer, seemingly oblivious to the travails of his prisoner.
“G-d has seen it fit to grant us the shortening of the way, so we will arrive home before the candles are lit.  But we still must make haste.  What do you think is the best way to show this evil waste of flesh who the Ruler of the world is?”

“Burn him!”  shouted some of the less creative of the mob.  The cry was quickly taken up, likely because of the mellifluous way the two words rolled over the tongue.

“We can do that,” mused the Seer.  “But first, I have something more interesting in store.”

He turned to the vocalist, whose once-decently handsome face (nothing with which to become the supermodel he was craving to be) was now a mask of sheer terror.  “As you are inside, so will you be outside,” he intoned.

The transformation began almost instantaneously.  The vocalist’s flesh began to melt from his skull and drip like the melting Shabbos candles he so disgraced, down his shoulders, down his body.  As the flesh around his neck parted, dripping and flowing like so much wax, the spine, like a wick that remained sticking from between his shoulders curiously began to resemble the dorsal side of a worm.  The remnants of his hair and patchwork charred skin caused the vocalist to resemble a Raggedy Andy doll caught in a bonfire until all of the flesh melted into one congruent line pulsing just like the light that had bound his companions, into the shape of a snake, or in this case, a pathetic, mewling, blind worm.

The Seer considered his work with objective eyes.  “Not bad,” said he. “An accurate rendering of a man who worships himself and lives for nothing but his own desires.  Now burn them all.”

The End.

BTW: Disclaimer- I’m just a writer, I’m not G-d, G-d is the True Judge, not me.  I’m just using my writing to get the pain out.  I know He doesn’t like what people like this do and are, but I don’t make G-d’s cheshbon.  The idea makes for great horror fiction, though.

Trackback URI | Comments RSS