As another wretched week slithers to its inevitable conclusion, the veil of night descends upon the realm, drawing My herald to the accursed halls of Bully’s Studios. Tonight, four pitiful offerings shall strive to generate the energy I so crave for My twisted satisfaction, their futile efforts a mere drop in the ocean of My eternal hunger.
While My herald may have succeeded in his feeble endeavors last night, his efforts shall redouble this evening, for his pathetic mortal shell bears but one duty—one he dare not fail in, lest he face the full weight of My divine wrath.
The potential offerings laid bare before Me tonight bear names as insignificant as the fleeting moments of mortal existence:
STORMBREATHER
ANIMALS WEARING ANIMALS
DIAL 9
TICKLING GRANDMA
Among them, a mix of new offerings and repeat offenders, their past transgressions a mere whisper in the winds of eternity. Yet, regardless of their history, the expectations remain unchanged: I demand nothing less than the manic and frenzied energy that can only be wrought from the convulsions and contortions of mortal flesh upon the dance floor.
Bully’s Studios, heed My command, for your fate hangs in the balance. Make my herald MOVE, make him writhe in agony and ecstasy, for his torment is but a prelude to the grandeur of My ascendance. Fail Me not, lest you face the wrath of a god scorned.