3. Orgy
Orgy won the final round of the fight, clobbering its challenger with the wind, transforming the element in the likeness and might of Thor’s hammer, before reshuffling the storm into tiny shards of air piercing the colossal creature deep in the innards. The muscled monster shuddered and shook; faeces and urine streaming uncontrollably down his naked thighs, giant worms gnawing out of his rectum as he fell.
The multitude was frantic; it was more a commotion than victory. Orgy was crowned champion. Despite its name, Orgy had nothing to do with group sex. Hell, it had no sex at all. Neither male nor female, it had no form. Orgy was just a dark cloud. It finally possessed the body of the red she-devil I miserably seduced, and was interviewed by dissident media, wherein, word of the triumph was instantaneously planted in the lo-fi data vines that carry across infinity.
The celebrations cut into my conversation with Sha-Rronne. I suggested we leave for a homemade Italian meal of pasta and wine in a cosy café down the street. I also proposed a change of costume first. She agreed. In a blink of an eye we accessed our wardrobe option and transformed accordingly to suit the romantic occasion. As we left, the glam punk band The Nobodies rocked the set with their hit song I Ain’t Ugly But You Love Me Anyway, while dead bodies were piled up as a mountain and burned in a gigantic bonfire.
A Nazi bitch in leather lingerie was heading the event, while riders in tusked-headed motorbikes stripped the carcasses of valuables like hacker codes, magical potions, warlock chants and teleportation belts. Hitler’s harlot held an Uzi and whip, shouting obscenities at the mob like a backup singer for The Nobodies. As we left the building, the reek of charred flesh rose from the chimney resembling a fifth horse of the apocalypse. Ahh…a perfect prelude to a romantic symphony.