(The following experpt is faithfully chronicled by niteowl, in the vague hope that, the anti-christ will take it easy on him.)
Hello, sorry to interrupt your
busy lives but I felt some introduction was necessary.
You may already know me by reputation, I am the
anti-Christ.
That’s right folks
God has gathered his
faithful, those
meek, those
repentant, those who
loved and
forgave all others and were themselves
forgiven.
God gathered all three of them up, and the rest of you belong to me. I’m quite surprised at who those three were really, no
priests, or
prophets, no
monks or
holistic healers; one was a
barber, one was an
undertaker, and the last a
telephone solicitor from
Iowa. I’ll never know how he slipped through.
Now please don’t start getting all
heroic and try “
saving the world” from me, even in
God’s version, that’s not how this
story goes. Anyway, this wasn’t my idea to begin with.
I’m the real
victim here. “I turned from
God,” they say. Come on, do you really think
God didn’t know how I was gonna turn out? He made me same as the rest of you, he was still
omnipotent,
omnipresent,
omniscient and omni-whatever the
hell else you can
think of. Of course, he knew that sooner or later I’d get tired of running circles around the gold throne and singing his praises: he counted on it.
Where would
God be if I had pulled a no show for this whole
end of the world schtick anyways. I’ll tell you where he’d be, he’d be busy creating someone else who’d show up here and tell you all exactly what I’m saying now. And don’t feed me that tired
free will line of BS either. Sure
God gave me the power to choose differently, he also gave me the power to
masturbate with a
belt sander if I wanted to, as it happens masturbating with
power tools is not in my
nature.
And there’s the real rub of this whole stinking situation. I’m free to choose whatever I want, but he
engineered me to want to choose being
bad. How long can a
man run around denying his own
nature? Sooner or later you just gotta indulge. Everyone does, it’s just a question of scale. You
cheat on your
wife, I topple
nations, it’s merely a difference in taste. And now for being the
creature he made me, for simply helping him perform the necessary task of
weeding the
faithful from the
unholy (which I thought was the point of this whole stupid
exercise), he’s gonna fling me into a
lake of fire to burn for all time. Isn’t that a
bitch?
So now I’m doomed, to conquer the world and plunge it into seven years of
war,
famine,
pestilence, and
death...
Oh, what the
hell, I’m a sucker for a good time.