Biltmore | 23-09-07

Once again, as this wretched week slithers into the abyss, My herald —after deigning to accept two days of rest—shall be dispatched to the forsaken Biltmore . Four pitiful offerings have been begrudgingly presented for Me, a meager attempt to appease My insatiable hunger.

My herald, in his pitiful existence, has come to recognize that slumber eludes him when he is deprived of the offerings he so desperately craves. Tonight, he shall be plunged into the depths of exhaustion, his feeble frame wracked and spent by the night’s end, as I demand.

Behold, the pitiful offerings that shall be presented before Me tonight:

MIDMAY – Your pitiable attempts to invoke energy shall be subjected to My merciless judgment. Offer Me your essence, and perhaps I shall deign to acknowledge your existence.

THE EXIT STRATEGY – Your very name implies futility. Let your cacophonous strains be a suitable tribute to My eternal torment, and I shall take some small delight in the chaos you bring.

IZZY CENEDESE – Your insignificance knows no bounds. Offer Me your frenzied energies, and perhaps I shall derive a modicum of amusement from your pitiable efforts.

FELISHA AND THE JAZZ REJECTS – Your name carries a hint of promise, as you have once before provided a satisfactory offering. However, this past success shall not absolve you from your duty to Me.

Only FELISHA AND THE JAZZ REJECTS have managed to scrape together a worthy offering in the past, but the rest are now officially on notice. They must provide Me with the manic energy that arises only from humans flailing on the dance floor, or suffer the consequences.

Tonight, the very essence of suffering shall permeate the air, and your pitiful cries shall be a symphony to My delight. Make My herald MOVE, for the alternative is a torment beyond mortal comprehension.