"Enter now the lions den
It's long past due that we begin
I have longed for you afar
Love sacriface in my backyard
I have seen beyond my gaze
I have gazed beyond today
And their lust shall build a world
Is what the prophets have to say

In this world where I am king
The atoms roar and strange love sings
All the jewels that one can bring
Mutant rags and big T.V.
Service now, the mushroom boy
Come to me now, by my side
And if you don't want to play
Then I'm afraid you'll have to cry

'Cause I can fry you with my eyes
I can blow you to kingdom come
I can take all the friends away
I've got mushroom clouds in my hands
And a place in my head for you
Better come to the throne today"

Monster Magnet: "All Friends and Kingdom Come"

*Some may say my approach is intimidating, some actually cower in terror at the mere sight of me, whilst others maintain an uneasy air of playfulness...no...more restrained, as though if they dare utter an ofensive statement, I'll crawl out from under the woodwork and pluck their eyes out of the sockets, and then proceed to eat them. Simply put, they are cowards...too afraid that I may change their way of thought, stear them away from the pathetic path of Jehovah they have known, whether or not they choose to follow it, all their life. they are a by-product of a disease man has spread around for centuries. Man is too used to their infirmaty to even begin to understand the cure, and the benefits of being whole again...*

-The Dark Messiah is hunched over at a bar, hand clenched around a glass, ice tinkling like wind chimes in the Devil's inferno. There is a relaxed manner about the myusterious man, a manner in which we haven't seen him assume in a long time...then again...just the simple fact that we are seeing this man is amazing as well...considering his lengthy absence. He conveys this manner as he looks dolefully up at the bartender who's hovering over him.-

The Dark Messiah: *takes a swill out of his beverage*You know why I don't like booze?

Bartender: Aah, if ya don't like it, why in the Hell are ya here?

The Dark Messiah: You jumped ahead of me. If you don't mind, I'll pretend as though you made an intelligent reply to my question...such as "why?"

Bartender: If ya say so, pal.

The Dark Messiah: That's more like it. I was going to say, I hate booze because it slows you down, temporarily drops one's potential. Which brings me to your question...Why the Hell AM I here? Well, I just told you the answer. I'm here to temporarily have my potential dropped. Let's just say...I'm trying to even out a certain gap.

Bartender: huh?

The Dark Messiah: I'm a professional wrestler, you see...my opponent this week, he has no idea what he's standing against. I'm not some piece of sh(eep) in some random indy federation, and he's about to be proven wrong. However, I feel sorry for having to mug the poor kid. I want to give him at least a chance. Hell, even he deserves that...and that alone is more than I ever received. I was always the guy who made it to the top "against all odds," fans and locker room alike all against me. Unfortunately for them, they underestimated me...and I flew through them like a hot knife through butter. That's my advantage, though many think otherwise...they refuse to see me coming. Just like Vulture...you know something, Bartender?

Bartender I DO have a name...an' if ya' could read, it's right 'ere on m' shirt! See! P-A-U-L.

The Dark Messiah: Sure thing, Bartender. Now, where was I before you so rudely interrupted me...? Aah, yes. This man who calls himself Vulture, to prepare himself to face me, he actually showed up at some half-assed houseshow...oops, let's give it SOME dignity..."Indy Federation," and proceeded to bludgeon some poor untrained boob too untalented to make it into the big leagues! Is that supposed to prove something? No, don't answer...rhetorical question. Fact is, the man is, as many before him have, underestimating me. Dammit! Life isn't some two-bit action movie, where my opponents are the seemingly invincible good-guy, and I'm the bad guy who has terrible aim/combat skills, just standing there, waiting to be picked off. Fact is, if that were true, and my opponents WERE the almighty good-guy, that action movie would really be a bomb! Thinnk about it! Of all my opponents who have ever shown that belief, I've taken the wind out of their sails. I AM a force to be reckoned with, and if this nobody who calls himself Vulture thinks otherwise, he's liable to end up in the hospital...and I don't care. it would be his own fault...it's a fate he unknowingly begged for.

*The Dark Messiah kicks back his drink, and "Like a Rock" begins to play on the jukebox. He opens his mouth for the sole purpose of asking for a refill, and we fade out to a screen swirling through space. Suddenly, a voice-over of one of the Dark Messiah's famed sermons fills the sound waves.-

*"So, Mr. Messiah, if YOU'RE God, then how did the world get created, huh?" Christians...how they disgust me with such ignorant questions. I'M not your God, your deity, yet you worship me as such. Why is it that a normal man gets this treatment, then? Because I've shown you the light, the way to defeat the ignorant masses, and LIVE to your fullest potential. As far as the world being created and all that bullsh(eep)t, does one REALLY need to dream up such incredible...unbelievable stories to explain a phenomena we're bound to NEVER understand? I'm the first to admit, I don't have the answer to every scientific question, but when iut comes to the philosophy of the matter...the fact of the matter that humans are weak, pathetic fools, who need EVERYTHING explained to their satisfaction, whether or not it's the actual reason behind the events or not. Philosophically, lies serve only to pollute your judgement. In NO manner do they aid you. They should be avoided at all costs, just as the truth must be accepted at all levels.*

-we fade out of the swirling in space scene, and back into the bar, at the exact moment we left off...-

The Dark Messiah: Refill, please, Bartender.

Paul the Bartender: Sure thing, bud. Just remember though...this's y' last one. After this, I've gotta cutcha off, understand?

The Dark Messiah: Damn.

Paul the Bartender: Oh, and ya best turn over y' keys. I don't exactly think y' able to drive after all y' drank.

The Dark Messiah: Hah! My 'Cuda is worth more than your life. You had best rethink your tactics if you think an unsavory character such as yourself is getting the keys to my baby!

Paul the Bartender: Why you...!

The Dark Messiah: Quiet and do your job...listening and pouring! Now let's see...I was discussing Vulture's chances against me in the ring. Let's discuss...his namesake. Vultures generally, are scavengers. Too weak to hold their own, so they pick on the dead and wounded...like they can fight back! Vultures just finish something else's leftovers...be it the leftovers of a stronger beast, or the corpses nature chooses to leave strewn as she slowly let's time itself eat away at a creature. A pity that this man only aspires to be useless and weak, is it not? A shame, as well, that hge has to face me in my first match back after an extended period of rest! A refreshed opponent is a vulture's archnemesis...something a mere scavenger dare not provoke due to their inherent weakness. My opponent is so frightened of my abilities that they need to build their ego by crushing a few talentless fools! I can practically feel his fear...his quivering an unrelenting vibration scathing through my skull...as annoying as a mosquito buzzing in my ear, telling me...beckoning be...summoning me...COMMANDING ME to swat it! Vulture's end is near, and he's only begging me to do what I'm going to have to do. And Vulture, I know you're watching this from the safety of your living room. Just remember...whatever happens when we square off...I'm NOT sorry.

-The Bartender slams his fist against the bar, waking the Dark Messiah from his reverie-

Paul the Bartender: ENOUGH! I can't take any more of yer silly back-talk, corny similies and metaphors, or minor complaints! People DO have it worse in the world than YOU, bud! It's time you accepted it. Now GET THE HELL OUTTA HERE!

The Dark Messiah: What...?

-The Bartender reaches under the counter, and comes up swinging a baseball bat. It connects with The Dark Messiah's head for the home-run hit, the thunk resounding like the screams of a thousand tortured souls. All goes black...

*What happens when the truth is not enough? When honesty fails to sustain? When the lies appear more promising than the tired hunt for the answers? You've got to look inside yourself for the answer to that. You've got to find exactly what it is that makes you tick, and hold that as near and dear as your quest to defeat Jehovah. You've got to remain passionate about your quest, despite the more-favorable path of lies that the Christians lay before you. My advice...save your mind...and your money. Their dogma does more harm than good...closing your mind to the more important things in life...like LIVING. You've got to go day-by-day, living without the basic crutch/security blanket that Christianity offers, and, to some, that may be difficult. All I can say...keep going. The light is behind you. Soon enough, you'll gain the ability to open your eyes for the first time.*

-We fade in to a dingy back-alley. The Dark Messiah is laying face up, and the slight rain glistens on his prone body like angels wings in candlelight. Suddenly, destroying the imagery painted, The Dark Messiah sits up, looking side-to-side, getting a sense of his whereabouts. He looks down, and notices a note, once on his chest, now sitting in his lap. He reads: