Timothy Long - The Apocalypse and Satan's Glory Hole

War sits after a moment of catcalls. There are two other ‘Horsemen,’ so she shifts her attention to them. Directly to War’s left is the hefty woman in a dark brown robe. Her hair is curly and wild, and it frames her round face. Her cheeks are so chubby they make her angry brown eyes seem like beads, and they force her small mouth into a frown. She scowls at the host with no effort to hide her disdain.

“His pair are all shriveled up like raisins because he never uses them!” the woman screams.

Kayla smiles at the woman nonetheless and introduces her. “As you just heard, this is the only female of the crew, Fatmine!”

The crowd claps and catcalls.

“It’s FAMINE! Get your facts straight, you scrawny mattress of a girl,” Famine shouts over the roar of the crowd. She scans the still-clapping idiots and breathes deep. It sounds like sucking spit through a straw. The man next to her chuckles out loud. His face is completely hidden in the shadow of his gray hood.

Famine turns to him and growls, “Fuck you, Pestilence!”

He raises one hand, and his sleeve falls away, exposing a rail-thin wrist and a hand with long slender fingers. He gives her the bird and then scratches his unseen face. The hostess smiles at him and says, “Thank you, Fatmine, for introducing our next guest. Pestilence!”

Famine yells, “MY NAME IS FAMINE, YOU TINY LITTLE WHORE!”

Pestilence laughs at Famine again before waving his spindly fingers at the camera. He leans back a little, and his long chin and thin-lipped mouth become visible. He smiles, and the camera pans to the side after catching a close-up of his train wreck teeth.

“We will get back to you both. I have a few more questions for Death if that is okay.”

“Be my guest. And enjoy it while you can. Not many get to meet Death and talk about it.”

“Got that right. His nethers are so shriveled he has to ask the big guy for permission to take a piss,” Famine howls. The crowd gets a good laugh, but Death scowls at her without blinking.

“Tell us more about being Death. Do you have a regular day job? Do you go after every person who is about to die? I mean, people must be dying now, so why aren’t you there to collect their souls?” She smirks at her impeccable logic.

“I get to them. Sometimes I have a backlog, but I get to everyone in the end.” He fingers the circles under his chin and sighs. “But there are special occasions.”

“I see. And this occasion is what exactly?” Outwardly she is calm. In control. Inside, her mind is going crazy. One of the producers slipped something in her drink. Something that is going to perk her right up. Her mind feels like it is under assault from bumblebees. They buzz around her noggin and make her want to shout crazy stuff. It’s the speed and the absinth. But this is how she puts up with the crazies and does the best interviews. High as a frigging kite.

“It is everywhere. The signs. The end is here.”

“The only sign I have seen is a billboard. Is that what you mean? Or is this something deeper? Something you need to prove to your brothers and sister? Some deep-seated need to show them that you are in charge? No disrespect, of course.” She adds the words that make any question she asks safe. It’s her get out of jail free card. She uncrosses her legs and leans forward to put the microphone right under his chin like a bulbous cock.

“I don’t need to show them I am in charge. They already know. These three have been with me since the beginning. But they are not as clever as I. Not by far.”

“Here we go with the darkness bullshit,” War mumbles.

“The only two things you are in charge of are Jack and shit,” Famine screams then jumps up and spins around while slapping her wide ass. The crowd goes wild. “And Jack just left town!”

“You will learn of the dark soon enough, you ancient twat.”

“So will you, you cock-swilling foul-breathed demon. You will learn of it when I punch you in the fucking teeth,” War says with a wicked grin.

“I come for everyone, and soon enough I will come for you. And when I do, I will skullfuck your soul straight to the abyss myself.”

War roars to his feet. Death is there at the same instant, and the two tussle for a moment, but neither seems very good at it. Famine screams like a banshee, which gets the audience out of their seats for the first time. They shout and scream for blood, but these gladiators are anything but warriors. Pestilence remains seated and continues waving at the crowd with those long fingers. He still has the smile plastered to his face like he is as high as a kite.

“Punch him in the balls!” Famine screams at no one in particular.

The security staff take to the stage to separate the loons, and the Horsemen sit down in a huff, arms crossed. More dark looks ensue.

“Punch him in the cock!” Famine screams again even though the two have settled down.

“I won’t lower myself to fighting by hand. I have armies to do my bidding. Minions to do my killing,” War spits.

“These are not as clever as I.” Death turns to fix Kayla with a stare that sends shivers up and down her spine. “All I have to do is swoop down and lower the scythe, then all their precious armies of shit monkeys fall like toy soldiers. Well, toy soldiers with gaping wounds.”

Pestilence leans forward in his chair and scoffs, “We aren’t as clever as you?”

His long fingers disappear in the shadow of his hood and scratch his unseen face. He turns to Kayla and tells her, “He is clever because he doesn’t have to do shit!

We do all the hard work.” He nods first to Famine and then to War. “We are the ones who commit genocide. We are the ones who ravage the worlds with plagues and starvation. We kill you puke-fuck humans by the millions. Death just collects the souls.”

“Collecting souls is exhausting!” Death says.

“Blah blah blah. I’m the dark one blah blah BLAH!” Famine yells the last word. Death gives her the finger.

“So, Death doesn’t pull his share of the load, is that what you are saying?” Kayla asks.

“You really are dumber than a shit stain!” Famine yells. A glob of spit flies out of her mouth and smacks across Kayla’s lap. Kayla stares at it in shock for a moment before shifting her gaze to the large woman.

“Pardon me, Fatmine. I do not appreciate your hostility.”

“I don’t give two rat rips what you appreciate. This whole place is going to be in the abyss in a few days.” Famine is on her feet again. She gestures for the crowd, but they boo her. Some get to their feet and shake their fists at her.

Kayla smiles and gestures for the crowd to settle down. Famine finally takes her seat, but she has a huge smirk on her face.

“If I could ask you a personal question, Fatmine.”

“FAMINE, You fucking twig. I’m about to come over there and smother your face in my ass!”

“Famine, I apologize. I do have one serious question… If I may?”

Famine crosses her arms over her chest and stares.

“Are you under the care of a doctor for the delusions? Any of you, for that matter.”

Famine leaps to her feet, a truly frightening sight. The woman jiggles here and there, and Kayla is sure the studio shakes. Her chair shoots back, and Pestilence holds on for dear life. She waddles toward the host, but security intervenes. They are only a few feet from the stage when they step between the large woman and the tiny host. Kayla gets to her feet with her hands out to placate the crowd, but they are roaring with laughter.

“Get your hands off me, you fucking apes. I’ll shart you into next week, see if I don’t!” She gasps and squirms, but they hold on. After a moment of screaming profanities, she stills and stares at the two.