Hillary staggers to the crying girl, stabs the dagger into her stomach under her sternum, slits her open to the top of her hairless mons. The smell of blood and shit fills the air as the girl gurgles and dies. Hillary casually tosses the knife aside and plunges both hands into the girl’s steaming abdomen.
“Cthugha! The Eternal Flame! The Devastator of K!lung! Father of The Great Aphoom-Zhah! Grant us this boon!” Hillary intones. She pulls her hands out and flings blood at the horrific stone face. “Cthugha! Cthugha! Cthugha!”
Hillary goes back into the body and you see her pulling and twisting until a wet red something comes loose and then she throws it at the mouth screaming “Cthugha!” And then another and another. A pink-grey loop of intestines reels out onto the floor. The insides of the great stone mouth begin to glow and then swirl.
“Yes!” Hillary screams.”YES!” She scoops the contents of the body out now, blood splashing into the mouth while she cackles
“THE PORTAL FORMS!” she cries.
As you watch, the swirling light grows brighter and brighter until a beam of actinic light pours out. When it goes out, a thunderclap shakes the entire cave, throwing you around, and there are screams from the cultists. Your ears are ringing in the sudden quiet and you can taste blood in the back of your throat.
“WHO CALLS ME?” a voice like a concrete saw asks. You clap your hands over your ears to blot out the voice and they come away wet with blood.
“It is I, Hillary Clinton, avatar of your Fathers!”
“I AM CHUTGNA.” the voice says. It comes from everywhere. It comes from the outside and from the within.
“I come in supplication!” Hillary yells.
You turn back over onto your stomach and crawl to the edge of the pit. Hillary is on her knees, gross body knobbly and fat, covered in the girl’s blood. All the cultists are down, sprawled, some blackened, some in disarticulated piles.
“I AM FLAME! I CONSUME!” Cthugna roars. The bodies of the cultists and the sacrifice flare brightly and are consumed in seconds. The pit fills with the sweet scent of roasting pork.
“Mighty Cthugna!” Hillary says. She reaches to the altar and takes a handful of the blonde girl’s ashes and smears them over her pendulous breasts and down to her gunt-hung crotch.
“There is no God but God,” you mutter.
“SPEAK!” Cthugna commands.
“Oh, Mighty Cthugna, grant me this. Immolation of the Republican ballots. The death of Donald Trump. The death of all who oppose me.” Hillary says this in a sing-song, swaying in a slight circle.
“I MUST BE BORN INTO YOUR WORLD!” Cthugna says.
“Yes, yes, O Mighty!” Hillary says.
“I AM FLAME! I CONSUME!”
“Yes, yes, O Mighty!”
“MY FIRE IS ETERNAL!”
“Yes, yes, O MIghty!”
“I CAN NEVER BE EXTINGUISHED!”
“Yes, yes, O Mighty!”
“YOU MUST OPEN THE WAY!”
“Yes, yes, O Mighty! I demand my revenge!”
Hillary takes up the sacrificial knife and jams it forcefully in her vagina and saws upward through the pelvic bone, through the layers of black fat that spill from her stomach, through the worm-riddled bone of her sternum. When she reaches her throat, light begins to shine through the cut, spilling out, bright white annihilation. Cthugna comes.
The fire spreads from the Democratic National Conference building in a perfect circle, all-consuming fire, eating buildings of brick and stone, of steel and glass. It expands quickly, fed by the wind between the stars. Where it touches the ocean, the water burns. The East Coast is gone in a day. The rest of the world in a week. All is blowing ash and darkness until Cthugna becomes the new Sun, low in the sky, laughing, full, waiting for the next being foolish enough to call.
THE END OF EVERYTHING
