FROM BARBARIAN TO PUBLISHER OF GOD'S WORD
It was when I was delicately removing the flesh from the face of my enemies that I heard a knock on the door. "By Crom, who could that be?" I asked. My captives were in no shape to answer.
Fortunately, it was only Jehovahs' Witnesses, offering me the latest Watchtower and Awake. It was my custom to politely excuse myself, close the door, and then sneak through my secret tunnels to violently surprise such interlopers before they could leave the holy ground I was defending. However, on that particular day, because of Jehovah's intervention, I was struck by the nubile young woman on the front of the Awake!
So I allowed the Witnesses to live, after paying certain tribute as they could afford (being, as it were, three packages of Skittles and a green Bible). I eagerly perused the vixen. She was the mate of my lustful dreams, the conquest I had yet to mount as the goat does the milkmaid. I could feel the prickle in my manhood like a rabid hedgehog!
Within six months I had shaved, gotten baptized, married the woman, and now serve as an elder in my local congregation. Having ruthlessly executed all opposition that stood between me and the coveted P.O. position, I have nothing left but a meeting with the C.O. to cement my position as OVERLORD of Circuit 7(a).
I met the man, a quibbling pederast of weak-chinned Saxon extraction. I could see that he knew not how to love his woman as a man should. Whereupon I seized his woman and claimed her right there upon the polished veneer of the conference table.
"Brother... what are you doing?" He managed to stammer before I sliced open his belly and fed him his own entrails. Then, as the fury of Crom fell upon me, I lay about me, smiting the Assembly Hall and burning it to the ground.
Crom's Witnesses thereupon revealed themselves, going door to door, smiting as they go! Yea, even I, Prickotese, Crom's own Mouthpiece, did smite seventeen Home But Hiding's in one day! Truly, proof of Jehovah's blessing!
Now, as we remorselessly encircle Bethel and force it to its weak and bitch-like knees, I call upon all of ye to fall down and worship even me, the Pig God of Crom!
Um, this is a joke. Ha ha. Someone said to try writing a life story. There is no Pig God that I am aware of.
CZAR