Puppetry

Mordor/The National Church of Bey/Together In Death

"Mordor never had this. Mordor had life insurance!" I heard in the distance, as a squeal rang out from the bubbly prison, the fairy watching him attempt to physically attack its winged form as I looked on in terror, the fairy grinning before metamorphosing into a copy of me. 

"Can I help him? At least a little bit? I mean, look at him! Fighting...me?"  "Why did you drag me to hell, Roy? Why? I was an angel before I met you...you dragged me to hell!" 

"That's not true! She loves me! I just want to be left alone sometimes and so does she!" 

"Mendax mendax es nihil noverunt amplius tantum aut per amica mens torpens movies et molestie! Absque cognitione quid ..."

He hadn't a clue what the demoness was purporting, but she had talked long enough for him to eventually start thinking about how to defeat her: using that stupid golden calf statue some people had worshipped back on Earth to wail on it hard. "Hey...do you like honey?"  

The universe seemed perfectly aligned for that punchline and frankly, I was proud of it and the execution beforehand. I had noticed, however, that the fairy had two nooses tied around its neck, seemingly taunting us about our incessant craving for--was it death? An outlet?

From the way she flung her head around so that both of us could see them clearly, it was death she knew we wanted. A specific type of death that nagging and hypocrisy would bring to light.  

"No, but I know what you two like. What you want is to be together in death. Heaven won't give you that, it'll only cleave you apart and keep you blissfully tormented for all eternity...JUST LIKE IT DID ME!"

As if by magic, as it most certainly happened to be, several demons with the same style of hangman's noose--drenched in water started grinning at me. "You and your perfect girl...why torture yourself with more questing to please...a tackily dressed hobo? You both have absolutely no friends: you're selfish and rude and your girl is falsely humble, not to mention suicidal...what an artist...who would choose her as The Lord's modern messenger except to lynch the message and tie it to a tree? Stay here, and you won't feel that way..."

"Leave me alone. Deixame só. Deixame só. Deixame só..."

As if to punish me even further one of the nooses began to force itself onto my neck, choking and pulling me down toward Hell. "Happy Valentine's Day--also, give the man a nice smooch from me, mkay?"