It seemed like a great idea at first: lots of single women, free booze, a chance to feel like I’m a part of something, only a little light sacrifice, but now I’m thinking that the Immortal Sons and Daughters of the Malevolent Uhthuru might not be the place for me.

Apocalyptic death cult

Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate the opportunity to be a member of the cult that is going to bring Uhthuru back from the Sorrow Dimension to rule over Earth for 1,000 years and cause every river to flow with the blood of the unbelievers, but on the whole, I’m just not sure it’s worth the time commitment.

Last week I wanted to use the pool but it had been filled with bull’s blood for the cleansing of the virgins ritual. I was adrift when the Immortal Sons and Daughters of the Malevolent Uhthuru came into my life. It was like time slowed down as Katrina the Deceiver approached the register at Auntie Anne’s, bringing with her a hunger for cinnamon sugar pretzels, a thirst for strawberry lemonade, and what seemed at the time to be the offer of a lifetime. Especially after she explained to me that the alternative once Uhthuru returned was an eternity impaled on a stake in Uhthuru’s pit of despair. When she put it that way it seemed like a no-brainer.

Besides, A WOMAN was showing an interest in me. And she was HOT. And evil, but HOT. I turned in my resignation letter to Charles, the shift manager, on the spot and wished him well in the coming apocalypse.

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There’s no one thing that’s bugging me about the death cult; it just seems like every few days another annoyance breaches the surface, and they’re starting to add up.

Like last week when I wanted to use the pool but it had been filled with bull’s blood for the cleansing of the virgins ritual. I’m on a very strict exercise regiment, and High Priest Shinga knows that every Tuesday I swim 100 laps. How am I going to drop those extra 15 pounds by the day of reckoning and atonement if I don’t get my laps in? Maybe if I’d just kept my Planet Fitness membership I’d feel the same sense of camaraderie I get here.

It’s definitely not a judgment free zone at the cult when Sven the Unbroken’s around. I was getting some cardio in on the treadmill yesterday when Sven walked in and compared my constitution to that of a plague ridden Orc. If that happened at Planet Fitness I’d ignore him and concentrate on finishing up so I could get my free pizza, but here there’s no pizza to be had. Just a lot of dead bulls.

Orlock the Mighty calls dibs every time a new virgin joins the cult. I was just making small talk with Cindy the other day, and he threw an axe at me! It hit Sven the Unbroken right in the shoulder. Cut his arm clean off. Orlock’s just another in a long line of bullies in my life. Take away the medieval weaponry and pet falcon and it’s Sam Anderson from high school all over again. I wouldn’t be surprised if Orlock used to drive a Camaro too.

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And they never divide the chores evenly around here! Whenever there’s a pile of entrails that need to be shoveled, surprise surprise, guess whose name is highlighted on the chore wheel? It’s never Orlock, that’s for sure.

Given all that, I’m still not sure I want to leave. Everyone genuinely seems to like me here (the jury is still out on Orlock. Maybe the axe throwing thing was just a heat of the moment reaction?). They’ve been adamant about their desire for me to stick around. Just the other day, I finally received my own ferocious nickname: Bob the Burnt Offering. High Priest Shinga says that I’m going to have an important role to play once the hour of Malevolent Uhthuru comes to pass.

Maybe things are looking up for old Bob. 

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