The congregation grabbed their so called Pope, dargged him away from the half dead child, who had sustained deathly ill blows to the head with a hammer, pieces of his skull stuck out like sore thumbs waiting for someone to pick them up. His teeth were bashed in and pried out of his mouth, there were many lacerations around his throat, and worst of all, a picture of Greg, Steve, and little Timmy in a clear glass picture frame had been violently shoved up his ****. The ball gag and gimp mask he wore had tears and cuts in it, and the boy's shin bones had been snapped and ripped through his skin as if the twin towares had exploded like a volcano.
Roger McPedonig was beaten profusely by the congregation, the neighborhood watch, and Chris Hansen.
"THY LORD CALIGULA ORDERED ME TO DO HIS HOLY BIDDING!" The delusional pastor screamed in fury as the woman who had thrown the brick at Greg was now stomping on his throat, snapping the discs in his neck like a wrestler body slamming a nilla wafer.
"YOU REPUGNANT DISGUSTING PEDOPHILE! WE'RE NOT CATHOLIC! WE'RE OCCULTISTS!" She screamed as her husband took out a sacrifial knife and jammed it deep into Roger's fat covered skull.
"OH LORD OF THE EVER PRESENT ABYSS, WE PRAY THAT THIS SACRIFICE IN YOUR NAME, JERRY SANDUSKY, SATISFIES YOUR NEED FOR YOUTHFUL GAMES IN THE SHOWER WITH YOUTHFUL SOULS WHO ARE ACTUALLY YOUTHFUL!" He yelled at the top of his lungs.
The result was shocking, intense, and horrifying to behold.
There was a slight hissing sound as Roger's lard slathered eye lids lifted with all the grace of a armless obese person falling off an escalator.
Then a stream of fat shot straight into the air.
The foul stench invading the concerned Sanduskiasts nostrils.
They found it enjoyable, like a pint of beer after winning the lottery.
The stream ripped apart Roger's pedophile head as it widened.
The congregation scrambling with open mouths to drink up some of blood stained fat, that seemed to be ingrained with a heartbeat of its own.
After it was all said and done, the Sanduskiasts rushed back into the house, presumably to take turns beating the trembling, crying child with their fists, and to rape him with lamp posts, vases, Lyonel Richies greatest hits, and the occasional glass shard shoved into little Timmy's nostrils.
That was two years ago. They never stopped.
A investigation was launched into the brutal slaying of the disillusioned cult leader, the small child that had been violated in nightmarish and terrible ways, and the shocking murder of a gay couple enjoying a quiet afternoon.
The report concluded that Greg was a half Black, half Cherokee Indian, gay, Jewish, Neo natzi and part time Klan member as well as the small town's preschool Superintendent who also happened was diagnosed with Cancer, Chrone's Disease, extreme Bipolarism, and being a general douche bag.
Steve was charter of the Justin Beiber, Stepheny Meyer, Rebecca Black, and Glee fan clubs. He also had room full of life size child dolls that hung from nooses in their garage, their torsos slashed open and stuffed with rotting meat.
It was the third day of the second year into the investigation in the questionably confusing case, that most of the force thought it was for the best that they would leave it alone. The head of the investigation was none other than Roger McPedonig, who, after very intense psychotherapy, repeated anal mutilations, watching his grandmother get **** by a elephant while white hot coals were slammed into her face, and being forced to lobotomize himself to get him to think that he liked shoving grenades into his his seventh degree burned **** cheeks, he was allowed onto the force.
He was pepper sprayed at regular intervals.
Police chief River Clear sat at a dark Oak table, a Ipad in front of him, several Chris Hansen clones in front of him. They looked at him with some slight confusion as to why they were created. The police chief said nothing at first, only glaring at the notice that his Justin Beiber membership had expired.
'****. And only five days before Retirement too.' He casually chucked the Ipad at Roger, who, for lack of any recreational activity, calmly let it slam into the side of his head.
"My sources inform me that Roger McPedonig over there," He began, tapping his fingers slowly on the table. "Is actively searching for ways to overcome a prior banishment from a Selena Gomez forum, imposed upon him by flagmods for inappropriate forum behavior. insnt that right, Pedonig?"
"That's, McPedonig... Sir."
"**** you, YOU, CHRIS HANSEN, pepper spray Roger. His plight must be made known to the OKCSGF community. Please demonstrate your support for our fallen comrade. And belt sand those extra layers of blubber off of him.Mother of god, he looks like a obese fat kid chasing a cake in a wagon going down hill."