The stench in the air is only slightly more appalling than the sounds of screams emanating from every distant horizon. The anguished cries of men, women, children and beasts alike ring out in an abominable harmonic symphony which carries on the wind the promise of sheer terror. The land is black and scorched yet paradoxically damp and soggy with the bodily fluids of the countless fallen victims, not unlike the soppy ashes of a freshly quenched campfire. Despite the moist ground, the air burns with each breath like the virgin drag of a very first cigarette, but one you will never get used to, let alone ever crave. It was here that it began and it is here that it will be decided… besides, the load in the huge sack I'm dragging is getting heavier with each and every step.

Doom City of the Apocalypse
Global warming's got nothing on the destructive force of the Rapeocalypse!

Amidst all the saturated decay and rot are hundreds of plants bearing small purple flowers atop large flat green leaves with purple stems. The time has definitely come; the earth has started to fight back against the scourge and thus the decision must now be made. A voice lacking sanity echoes from the top of a nearby hill shouting a warning, much like a forester would yell before falling a tree.


An amorphous figure starts running chaotically from the top of the butte, seemingly preceded and followed by various incarnations of himself loosely attached to a central core. The shrieked warning comes again as he gets closer.

"Alright, let's do this," I utter, as I reach into the large sack I've been toting through the accursed aftermath of what I have created. "MANDRAGORA!"

He stops in front of me as all the incarnations of himself come to rest in a single occupying form.

"Why don't you have your fingers in your ears?! I mean, I shouted. Didn't you hear me?"

I reply to him with a single sentence that puts such a rapturous smile on his face that the contrast of pure joy with the horrors surrounding us is like day and night. "Mike, it's time to make the decision." The joy is fleeting however and he seems suddenly distracted by something as his expression changes to one of pensive concern.

"Okay, but first Copernicus wants to finish this harvest. He spent all that time digging the hole underneath it and he's already got the rope attached to the bottom and everything! The sacrifice is about to die and do you know how hard it was keeping it alive while hauling it all the way here?! Brent said he's even losing out, because he could have collected at least another week's worth of policy premiums if we had left the sacrifice in the rape shelter we raided to obtain him… Besides, this is my last piece."

With that he spits a wad of what looks like chewed wood into the nearest stagnant pool of bodily fluids.

Knowing all too well what will become of Mike's fractured mind if I deny him his fix, I acquiesce with a simple nod. He then puts his fingers in his ears while another set of arms appears like a badly tracking overlaid image on a time delay, except these arms pick up the rope that I now see was tied around his leg the entire time.

Mandragora Officinarum
Mandragora officinarum – a species of the plant genus mandrake, belonging to the nightshade family (Solanaceae).

"MANDRAGORA!" he shouts again like a baritone banshee, while tugging hard on the rope, removing all available slack. From over the mound where he first started yelling from, an ear-bleeding unearthly wail, louder than any heard in the distance, fills the air and then slowly dissipates. Mike removes his fingers from his ears and his hands then continue to track naturally with the ones that are now fervently pulling in the rest of the rope. A body can be seen tumbling down the esker, dragging one of the large purple flowered plants tethered behind it with a now exposed root. When the corpse comes to a rest at our feet, it's apparent that it just had its brains liquefied which then drained out its ears, no doubt by the alien-sounding shriek we just heard. Mike reaches for the large plant bound to the carcass and severs the coveted man-shaped root. He produces an empty blood-stained whiskey flask from his pocket and fills it from the surface liquid of the same pool of horrors that he spat his cud into earlier. After taking a quick swig he uses the rest of the liquid to wash off the mandrake root before taking a large bite out of it and storing the rest away for later.

As if he is answering some unspoken question he says with his mouth full of root, "It's all the semen in the soil that makes them flourish. They're a bitch to harvest but nothing beats their deliriant hallucinogenic tropane alkaloid properties!"

With an endearing smile I ask, "Are you ready now Mike?"

He nods as he works the wad of root into a bolus which he'll likely hold in his mouth for days.

"Alright, let's do this," I utter, as I reach into the large sack I've been toting through the accursed aftermath of what I have created. From within the sack I produce a pristine seal and lay it on the damp, clammy ground. I look over at Mike who is fidgeting so much I can see all of his personalities twitching individually and slightly out of sync with each other, giving away his obvious anticipation.

"You want to do it, don't you Mike?" I ask.

Like a kid in a candy store, he lights up with palpable hope and I can't help but laugh at the fact that only Mike Lamb could show both joy and hope in the least likely of places to find such things.

"Can I really?!" he says, in an excited voice that unmistakably belongs to Copernicus.

With another endearing smile and a nod, I give my consent.

Leaping into action with all the speed and agility of a gazelle, he grabs the nearest femur bone lying on the ground and utters with giddy glee, "I've ALWAYS wanted to do this!" He brings the head of the femur down upon the seal repeatedly like it was a fallen piñata full of ‘shrooms for his birthday and someone forgot to blindfold him. The seal erupts, like a paper bag full of fruit punch jello hitting the ground after it had been dropped from the top of a skyscraper. Blood, tissue, fur and bone fragments scatter in all directions forming a fresh bright red bullseye of gore on the ground.

White baby seal
Wait, THAT'S what they meant by opening the seal?!

As the spirit of this once adorable, but now almost unrecognizable animal leaves our plane of existence for another, an uncharacteristic thunderous voice for such a small being is heard, "Come and see!" Just then an angelic white horse rides up with a resplendent woman riding it holding a bow.

"Congratulations, Shark Bait, you've won," I say with a smile, handing Edyn Fountainhead a well-deserved crown which she graciously accepts, almost with a familiarity like she's done this before.

Immediately Mike glances at me with a boastful sarcastic shrug that seems to silently convey, "Who gives a shit about winning this contest, I just got to fucking obliterate a baby seal! Who's the fucking winner now, bitches?!"

Revelation 6:1-2

1 And I saw when the Lamb opened one of the seals, and I heard, as it were the noise of thunder, one of the four beasts saying, "Come and see."

2 And I saw, and behold a white horse: and he that sat on him had a bow; and a crown was given unto him: and he went forth conquering, and to conquer. (-Authorized King James Version)

As if to respond to Mike's silent triumphant proclamation, I reach into the sack and produce another baby seal and lay it at Mike's feet. He looks at me with an expression of self-pride as it suddenly dawns on him that not only does he get to do it again, but he will get to do it two more times as well. Frantically searching his mind(s) for a different way to bring about the same result, he quickly reaches down with what looks like possibly three different sets of arms out of phase with each other and picks up an enormous stone.

Without even thinking twice he brings the rock down on the defenseless seal with the force of several men inside one body. A sickening crunch is heard and although the blood spray is rather substantial I can't help but detect a touch of disappointment in Mike's expression as he realizes he just buried the seal under the boulder and thus can't completely survey the damage to his twisted satisfaction. Just then another voice is heard as the seal's spirit leaves our earthly presence: "Come and see!" A blood red horse without a rider gallops up to us and after producing a great sword out of the giant sack, I turn to Mike with a smile. "You and I both know that you wouldn't have been satisfied with the bow and a white horse." Handing him the great sword he smiles a perverse grin, not because of his placement in the contest, but rather because I just provided the answer to the recently formed question that is burning in his mind.

Revelation 6:3-4

3 And when he had opened the second seal, I heard the second beast say, "Come and see."

4 And there went out another horse [that was] red: and [power] was given to him that sat thereon to take peace from the earth, and that they should kill one another: and there was given unto him a great sword. (-Authorized King James Version) 

Chaos of the Apocalypse
If there is one person who could dream up something even less peaceful than a Rapeocalypse, it would be Mike Lamb.

Knowing he could stand it no longer, I reach into the sack and quickly produce the third seal and lay it at Mike's feet. Checking his grip on the hilt of the great sword, finger by finger, much like a golf or tennis pro might check the grip on their club or racquet, he prepares to punctuate the answer to his burning question with his very own exclamation point. The strikes come so quickly that he is again out of phase with all of his personalities. But one thing is constant in them all: the sinister smile. Like a demented butcher he hacks away at the baby seal, spraying blood and sending pieces flying off the great sword in all directions with each up stroke. After landing his penultimate blow he stops with a wild, crazed look in his eyes and says to Edyn, "Bows are for girls!" He then cries out while taking one last overhead arcing swing, bringing the sword down upon the remains of the seal and nonchalantly adding, "Yeah, okay, I'm done…so who got third place?" As the seal's spirit leaves its body, a voice echoes through the land. "Come and see!"

A midnight black horse rides up with Gavin Pitt on his back carrying a pair of scales in his hand. All of a sudden there seems to be a lot of superfluous random and obscure chatter going on which is extremely hard to follow.

Revelation 6:5-6

5 And when he had opened the third seal, I heard the third beast say, "Come and see." And I beheld, and lo a black horse; and he that sat on him had a pair of balances in his hand.

6 And I heard a voice in the midst of the four beasts say, "A measure of wheat for a penny, and three measures of barley for a penny; and [see] thou hurt not the oil and the wine." (-Authorized King James Version)

Just then Mike's eyes light up as an idea enters his tangled and fractured mind causing him to blurt out, "Yeah, yeah, yeah, just shut the fuck up Gavin and let's get on with it." I reach inside the bag for a final time and lay the seal at Mike's feet. Even I am unprepared for what follows. Mike leaps atop his blood red steed and grabs a handful of its mane. Yanking backwards on the great animal's hair, the horse rears up dramatically. The front hooves of the enormous beast come crashing down on the seal crushing it violently.

As if that wasn't enough, the equine then proceeds to stamp repeatedly on the carcass so fast that the mangled remains inexplicably bursts into flames. Mike releases the handful of his horse's mane which he then begins stroking with great pride. As the spirit of the fourth seal leaves its body, a voice rings out, "Come and see!" A pale almost albino horse comes riding up carrying a pale almost albino rider, Julian Asange. Julian blurts out, "A FUCKING CHICK GOT FIRST PLACE IN THE MOTHERFUCKIN' RAPEOCALYPSE?! FUCK YOU, DICKFUCK! I'M GOING TO UNLEASH HELL ON THIS GAY ASS DECISION! I'VE BEEN RAPED IN THE ASS OVER THIS! SPEAKING OF GAY, DOES THAT MAKE ME GAY?! GAVIN?! DOES IT?! FUCK IRONY! RAAAAPPPPPPEEEEOOCCCAAAALLLLYYYPPPPSSSEEEE!"

Revelation 6:7-8

7 And when he had opened the fourth seal, I heard the voice of the fourth beast say, "Come and see."

8 And I looked, and behold a pale horse: and his name that sat on him was Death, and Hell followed with him. And power was given unto them over the fourth part of the earth, to kill with sword, and with hunger, and with death, and with the beasts of the earth. (-Authorized King James Version)

Mike turns to Julian and says, "Chill dude, she won fair and square, besides it isn't like they'll leave her in the story, they'll probably end up making her a man when they tell it…fucking religion."


Just then Gavin chimes in, "Wait, aren't the four horsemen supposed to be precursors to the whole thing?"

"Yeah, so what now?" replied Edyn.


As The Four Horsemen* of the Rapeocalypse ride off to continue to wreak havoc and terror on the world, the last thing I hear is Mike saying to the others, "I kind of wish there were three more seals, don't you?"

I smile knowingly as I pick up the bag at my feet, sling its remaining heavy weight over my shoulder, and continue on my way…

Four Horsemen of the Rapeocalypse
The Four Horsemen of the Rapeocalypse: Edyn Fountainhead, Mike Lamb, Gavin Pitt and Julian Asange.

*Edyn, you just won a contest about the Rapeocalypse with what could be described as a feminist article, now's not the time to piss and moan about pronouns…besides, "The Four Horsepeople of the Rapeocalypse" just sounds fucking stupid.

I want to personally thank each and every one of you who submitted articles for this contest. Please know that while I am rarely serious, I did take this decision quite seriously and it was NOT an easy one for me to make. Let it be known that first place will receive the primary prize package consisting of: a PIC T-shirt; the ultimate rape whistle w/LED light, compass and thermometer (in case you're ever sexually assaulted and you need to find your way back home in the dark…and you are curious about your vaginal basal temperature? WTF?!); a solar rechargeable key chain light; your very own sperm; and a pox upon your house. The other three horsemen will also receive the prize of a pox upon their house.

Congratulations to all the winners! To everyone else, please remember, crying about your plight in the Rapeocalypse is simply pointless.

Join upcoming November classes in Satire Writing, Sketch Writing, and Stand-Up Joke Writing.