I overheard an old peg legger spinning yarn at the tavern when my brother and I were following bread crumbs.
As he sploshed his lager all over himself, the man recounted a tale from centuries ago about a pirate who claimed he heard singing in the night winds as he navigated his ship.
Every night he would sail aimlessly in search of the source until he found it: sitting on a rock in the open ocean, there laid the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on.
But as soon as the pirate drew near, the lass would disappear into the deep.
The pirate returned every night, begging for her to sing for him, until one fateful night when she finally opened her mouth…
But what came out was not what he was hoping for.
It was a wretched sound, and the maiden’s body morphed into what she truly was:
A siren.
Days later the pirate’s shipwreck washed ashore with no captain at the helm.
The tale reminded me of a swashbuckling pirate who walks the halls of this Slaughterhouse.
Possessing an impressively ugly mug, he like the mermaid relies on his cunning to reel his targets in like catching fish from the sea.
Tantalizing a wayward young man each week, he leaves a trail of breadcrumbs for him to follow with the promise of salvation at the end.
This young man, far past his glory days as a former Olympic gold medalist, has been wandering aimlessly through life. Searching for new purpose, you could say he was lost at sea. That is, until he found Yahweh.
Yet even with his newfound strength he is not immune this pirate’s temptation, and every time the young man gets too close to the end of the trail the pirate vanishes, leaving a clue to further detract him from Yahweh’s light.
Israel Grimwolf, I see you trying to pull my brother Sir Gable into the darkness.
Like a siren you tempt him over and over again until you fully entrance him, only to bait and switch by revealing your true self as the grotesque, ugly monster you really are:
The Nekken.
But your slimy, suction cup-lined ass didn’t anticipate our trap.
You thought you were getting Sir Gable alone.
But when you follow our breadcrumbs to the Slaughterhouse you’ll find something totally unexpected:
Me.
I’m Cael’s bigger, nastier brother, and I sing a mean church hymn that’ll entrance even your sinful, drunken ass.
I am your siren, Pirate.
And just like the swashbuckler from that tavern’s crusty drunkard’s story, you will be tempted and captured by my brother and I at Dead End.
You again will be reminded that Vayikra is a force of nature. I promise to change your ship’s course with our powerful crosswind, guiding you towards Yahweh’s light that shines down from above.
Come to the light, Grimwolf, or you and the ship you sailed in on will forever be lost at sea.
Your remains never to be found at the bottom of the Old School Wrestling Ocean.
Bring your worst, Grimwolf, because Cael is bringing his.
Deus vult.