As I sit here in the silence of solitary confinement, my mind drifts back to one day I spent with Michaela. She had gotten sicker than I had ever seen. Her mother trusted me to use my connections to get her a good doctor.
I called in some favors to get her seen quickly. The doctor discovered a Skull Headed Iron Tapeworm. A blood sucking parasite which attaches itself to the intestines and induces a near mind controlling case of pica where you crave iron.
To make things even worse, Michaela had been sneaking raw meat for the elevated iron content and had food poisoning on top of the leech in her guts.
Thankfully the doctors were able to detach that thing from her insides and give her some medicine for the food poisoning.
It reminds me how people in the Slums, the bowels of Acadia, can spend their lives toiling under the influence of tapeworms that attach themselves to them. Sucking life from them by using their living conditions to manipulate their community. Controlling their every moment by making them desire a message of deliverance. Keeping them mentally sick so they’re easily able to be kept.
You see Grimskull, don’t think I haven’t seen what you’ve been doing. You’re gathering an army to fight the Third Eye.
Leading you heard of lambs to the slaughter as it were.
You control the Slums by preaching a gospel of false hope and making them all thirst for your message.
You ask them to give you everything, you want them to spill their blood to feed your own twisted desires.
You keep them unwell by telling them their purpose is to serve, first in general, and now exclusively you.
You want to believe they’re beneath you. Wrapping yourself in the presumption that you’re the God of the Slums. When you’re nothing but a tapeworm attached to the bowels of Arcadia, feasting on the lives of there in.
Grimmie, you’ve dug yourself in deep too, the people of the Slums love you. However, I think it’s more they’ve never seen the parasite that’s been leeching off them for years bleed.
Well, Doctor Attano is in, and I plan on cutting you from stem to stern before I reach down deep and tear you from the hideaway you’ve dug for yourself. Exposing you for the parasite which has masqueraded itself as the cure.
Showing every one of your followers the God of Slum does indeed bleed.
And, once that’s done your flock will see you for the S.H.I.T. you are, a weak conman who almost convinced them to sacrifice their lives.
The S.H.I.T. who for years reaped the rewards of their hard work, while feeding them a steady diet of verbal sickness to the point they lusted for it.
And, while you lay on the mat, bleeding, exposed for parasitic vermin you truly are, Nobody will remember you. Not as God of the Slums but as a tapeworm finally extracted and ready for disposal.