Sweet dreams are made of these... cute demonic red-furred and horned cat-imps, dancing and laughing, guffawing, chuckling and chortling. A great celebration was taking place. The cat-imps, or catturds, were overwhelmed with joy. The cause for their celebration? donald trump had been elected to a second term.
Spawned by the fevered dreams of conspiracy theorist Phillip Buchanan, the catturds materialized from the demented delusions of his defective brain. Far beneath the surface of the earth, or perhaps in an alternate plane of existence, an audible pop signaled the birth of a new demonic catturd imp.
During this specific Buchanan nighttime paranoia-fueled phantasmagoric unconscious fantasy (an ecstatic nightmare of conspiratorial vindication) hundreds of new catturd imps were hallucinated into existence. They splashed and played gleefully in the flowing magma. The red-hot liquid rock casting ethereal shadows that illuminated the underworld environment.
Meanwhile, on earth's surface, the family of Bob Smith mourned his passing 30 days previously. His family, which was bigly MAGA, would have preferred to be celebrating instead of attending the funeral of their beloved MAGA kin.
Bob's wife wailed in existential misery. Then she realized that things might not be so bad. donald trump, the anointed warrior of Christian civilization, was president again.
She smiled briefly, thinking of the misery that would be inflicted on her enemies at the hands of the triumphant champion of God-fearing moral Whites around the United States. It was time to take our country back from the Godless liberal queers that threatened society. She stepped to the podium and spoke.
"Bob would want us to go on", she announced as she adjusted the microphone and continued her eulogy. "Bob, as you all know, was mega MAGA. With the election of donald trump, our country is on the verge of a revitalization. donald trump's righteous hand will cleanse this nation of all who seek to defile it. The vile liberal queers that have perverted Christian civilization will be crushed by God's chosen leader. There will be so much winning, but we will not ever get sick of it".
She went on from there. When she finished the crowd sprung to their feet and cheered. Today would not be a day of mourning, but a day to celebrate the life of Bob Smith. A righteous and God-fearing man who was now with the Lord and in his loving embrace. The living could take solace in that fact. As well as the fact that donald trump was re-elected and the cackling hyena, Kamala Harris, was defeated.
Mary Smith's grief became jubilation. Or something close to it. She would grieve her husband, but she could see herself moving forward -- and with great anticipation of the good works donald trump would soon embark on. All which would restore America's greatness.
Two hours later the uplifted bereaved departed, leaving the widow alone with her husband's closed casket. Closed due to the nature of his injuries. She shuttered, remembering the day she identified the body. It was the same day Mary Smith and her husband Bob attended TurdStock: October 6, 2024.
The blissfully unaware couple were enjoying themselves. Playing pin the tail on the demonic donkey, throwing tennis balls to sink the dementia-addled Joe Biden (stand-in), plunging him into the dunk tank. Also eating various foodstuffs the overpriced vendors were selling. Among other state fair themed activities.
Then it happened. The event that changed her life forever.
"I'm in the mood for some tangerine cotton candy. I think they call it the Trump Swirl", Mary said, her eyes lighting up when she saw the booth. The vendor spun a cone of orange and pink delight. He handed it to her and Bob paid. As they walked, laughing and enjoying the day, suddenly Bob stepped into an unseen pothole and tripped. Stumbling forward, Bob collided with a wall of cotton candy sugar-mix canisters. The towering monolith of sugar-mix trembled, then collapsed, burying Bob.
Mary was about to laugh at Bob's misfortune when she realized something was terribly wrong. A bright crimson liquid flowed from beneath the pile of heavy canisters. Other TurdStock attendees quickly pitched in to remove the barrels, but it was too late. A particularly heavy barrel clearly crushed her husband's body. When they were moved a mangled and unmoving corpse was revealed.
Mary started sobbing. Bob, seeing his grief stricken wife, attempted to console her. Though, to his utter bewilderment, she did not seem to hear him. Then he noticed a swirling black void that tore into existence beside his broken corpse.
"My body?" Bob whispered, his voice filled with dread. A cold recognition settled in -- he wasn't just injured, his life had been snuffed out in an instant. All his dreams for the future, suddenly dashed. Plans such as following up with that sexy waitress he ogled the last time Mary and he had dined at the All-American Bar and Grill.
Bob had considered returning solo at a later date. He imagined he might romance her by grabbing her by her privates. If she let him, then he would know she would be down for a roll in the hay. If not? He'd have written it off as a failed pass. Now he would never know.
He turned back to the dark gateway. It seemed to call to him, drawing him toward it. "That must be the portal to paradise", Bob surmised. Feeling his confusion and fear melt away, Bob advanced toward the doorway to the afterlife. He would miss his wife, but eternity waited. And he was eager to meet his maker, who would probably thank him.
"Thank you for your unwavering support of my chosen leader", God would tell him. "You are one of my most loyal servants and will be richly rewarded". Bob imagined God shaking his hand and congratulating him. "You did not fall prey to the liberal lies. You were tested and passed with flying colors, my child". Then God would usher Bob into the promised land.
Bob cast one final wistful glance at his wife. Then he strode confidently toward the portal. "Be a man, Bob!" he told himself. Despite his confidence that soon he would be embraced by eternal bliss, he was slightly afraid. Given that he was about to step into the unknown.
Yes, he knew that God would be very pleased with how Bob had conducted his life; he hated the right people, which were the enemies of the Almighty. And he placed his resolute and unwavering faith in donald trump. But still...
Everlasting life, a perfected communion with God, and a renewed body. All this and more. Bob had no doubt. Having reassured himself and pushing his fears aside, Bob departed the mortal realm. He stepped into darkness and was instantly whisked away.
After traveling along a dark tunnel, flying at an exceedingly high speed through the windless air for an indeterminate amount of time, Bob was ejected into a black void. He fell and fell, but ended up, to his surprise, touching down lightly.
"This isn't what I expected Heaven to look like", Bob remarked. Stumbling in the dark, he walked toward a light he saw in the distance that burned fiery red. It was quite hot, Bob discovered, starting to sweat.
Finally he reached a heavy iron gate. A man short of stature stepped from the shadows and opened it, then ushered him in. Smiling broadly the mustachioed man declared, "a very, very warm welcome to you, Edward Endo. You may call me Maga Mike".
"Hello Mike", Bob replied, feeling almost welcome. "The name is Bob, btw. You were expecting someone else?"
Reconsidering his answer, Bob clarified, "Bob Johannes Smith. And it's just Bob not Robert. That is as per my birth certificate".
Bob waited, wondering how the man who wore a sharp burgundy suit would respond to his very precise answer. Mike was an unusual looking fellow. His skin was scaled and crimson red. He had horns which sprouted from his head. And, from his rear, a long tail grew that was tipped with a spade.
Then he noticed that Mike wore a red MAGA baseball cap, almost identical to his own. A brother in arms, Bob could clearly see Mike was. Despite his odd appearance.
Mike produced a clipboard and checked it. "You aren't Edward Tsutomu Endo AKA Mystere?"
Bob shook his head no and Mike double-checked. "Ah, yes. Bob Johannes Smith and not Edward Tsutomu Endo. You are correct. Edward isn't scheduled to arrive until later".
A short distance away, magma flowed. Playing in the molten lava, Bob saw horned red cats, so cute and so fury they demanded to be cuddled. That's what he concluded when one approached him, purring.
Suddenly it leapt on him with extended claws, latching onto his chest and swiping at his face as sharp claws pierced the fabric of his jacket. Bob screamed in pain when his eye was ripped out and ended up dangling from its socket.
Bob grabbed the cat, pulling it off him. Then he dropped it and punted the critter with his boot. The feline let out a horrific howl and went flying, disappearing into the darkness.
Worried about his eye, Bob gingerly touched his face.
"Push it back in", Mike proposed.
When Bob failed to act Mike approached him and, with a black-nailed red hand, quickly pushed Bob's eye back into his cranium.
Surprisingly Bob felt no pain. He concluded he must be in shock. Yet, only a few moments later, he found his vision in that eye had returned.
"Amazing!" Bob exclaimed. "By the glory of God I am healed!"
"When do I get to meet God?" He hoped the wait would not be too long.
"1000 years from now. Possibly sooner", Mike replied. Noting the look of extreme disappointment on Bob's face he added, "don't worry. Remember, time flies when you're having fun".
The reassurance lifted Bob's spirits. Cosmically speaking, 1000 years wasn't that long. Not compared to eternity.
He took out his iPhone and started filming. "I'm going to post this to TikTok", Bob announced as he panned his camera, taking in the vastness of the endlessly immense cavern.
Bob tried to upload his video, but quickly realized there was no Wi-Fi. Thinking about it, this made sense, though Bob couldn't help but be disappointed.
"Your catturd has returned", Maga Mike said, clearing his throat to get Bob's attention.
Bob lowered his phone, then noticed the cute red cat that had just attacked him was back. "What do you mean?" Bob asked. "I want nothing more to do with that thing. It is quite cute, but extremely violent".
"This is your forever buddy", Mike declared. "Well, for as long as you are here, at least. Like I said earlier, somewhere in the neighborhood of 500 hundred to a thousand years. Then you get to meet the ruler of this domain and be judged. In the meantime you can consider this an extended spa vacation".
Bob eyed the cat with suspicion. But, when it started purring, Bob's heart melted. "I must have startled the little guy. I'm willing to give this forever buddy thing another shot".
Then the catturd snarled viciously, spitting as it launched itself into the air, sinking its razor sharp teeth into Bob's throat, tearing out his adam's apple.
swtd-444. polfi-28. Analysis. Previous. Next.
