Commencing another wretched weekend, My herald shall descend upon the eternally satisfying Wise Hall. There, a collection of punk offerings shall be reluctantly provided for Me.
Amongst the pitiful three local offerings that grace the bill, there is a modicum of dissatisfaction in knowing that My herald shall be forced to abandon his duties, though briefly, to attend to his insipid fatherly responsibilities before the cursed touring band takes the stage.
Behold the pitiful offerings that shall be begrudgingly presented before Me tonight:
RONG – After languishing in the shadows for countless months, My herald wallows in a sickening ecstasy at the thought of witnessing RONG once more. They are amongst his favored servants, and their offerings shall not be vain.
BLACKED OUT – These heavyweights are no strangers to satisfying My malevolent hunger. They shall unleash their cacophonous pandemonium, and I shall revel in the chaos they bring.
THE CORPS – A name that carries the weight of their own insignificance. They have performed before My malevolent gaze and met My meager standards in the past. They shall provide their wretched offerings once more.
BELVEDERE – A pitiful touring band who shall remain unharvested due to My herald’s pathetically human obligations. Their fate is of no consequence to Me.
Wise Hall, your venue shall again bear witness to the despicable spectacle of tonight’s performance, and your role is clear. Do not falter, for the alternative is far worse than the shadows clinging to your cursed walls.
Tonight, the very essence of torment shall saturate the air, and your pitiful cries shall be a twisted symphony to My delight. Make My herald MOVE, for the alternative is a torment beyond mortal comprehension.