Is is just me, or did he sound like Kelsey Grammer?
(The opening theme of Jonesy’s Jukebox fades, overtaken by “Tubular Bells” (more commonly known as the theme from “The Exorcist”)
Incubus Succubus III: Good evening. How are you? Yes. Now you know. This is the Day of The Devil, 666. This is a day of much anguish. There will be hell to pay. You do understand. This is my mellow-devil voice. Do you like it? Put more music, Mr. Shovel. Thank you. This is the Devil’s Concubine, Incubus Succubus the Third. I have come to descend upon Los Angeles, Orange County and Ventura Boulevard. I will put many, many streams down on you. You will be coughing after twelve bells. Chemicals. I hope you enjoy it. I did say twelve “bells” didn’t I? Yes. Take it away, Mister. ("Hell’s Bells" begins to play)
~~~ ~~~ ~~~
Incubus Succubus III: Yes. Yes, children of the grave. What a wonderful day it is today. So much anguish. So much pain. So much anxiety. Do you feel it?
I wished it upon you.
You must be soaking it up by now. All the hatred is coming out of your pores. You do concur don’t you, Los Angeles? Orange County. Madison County. Ventura Boulevard. Today is the day we will all be drawn together as one and we will all dissipate into dust. That’s all I’m giving you right now.
Don’t ask me for what songs I played cos it doesn’t matter, because we’re not going to be here after today. So you don’t need to go to iTunes to download anything. It’s all meaningless. I’ll be back.
~~~ ~~~ ~~~
It’s been a hundred years. It’s a long time since I descended on thee. Why don’t you go to the Indie website and have a butcher’s at what I look like right now. Do you see me? There’s only so much I can do for you now. I brought you this far. The rest is up to you. Incu-Succubus the Third. I need to get back into my oxygen tank so I will leave you with some music. “Killed By Death” Do you understand?
~~~ ~~~ ~~~
(the end of the second set featured only Mr. Succubus’ irregular breathing pattern)
~~~ ~~~ ~~~
(back from commercial)
Incubus Succubus III: Much better. I have the insulin (?) running through me now. The fire is all inside my veins. My head is ablaze with gasoline. You have no idea what it’s like down here in the core of the earth. Twenty leagues inside the center of the earth. It is so bloody hot, even I, Incubus Succubus the Third, have a hard time sleeping. But I have arisen for this one day. I am the Devil of all devils so I hope you appreciate me coming to the top, to surface amongst you.
Ohhh, it’s so bloody hot…
~~~ ~~~ ~~~
(After the third set, nice placid music plays in the background)
Incubus Succubus III: This is too jolly, this part. Please put the other bit on, Mr. Shovel. What are you doing to me. (“Tubular Bells” starts again in the background) I have an image to maintain. That’s way too jolly. That’s better. Do you know it’s written in the scriptures, on the tablets. There was no “Last Supper”, Mr. Shovel.
Mr. Shovel: I think it was a lunch.
Incubus Succubus III: Did you see the lines of cocaine they were snorting on that big long table? The Devil’s dandruff. Yes. There is no truth to the Biblical “sense”. Can you imagine Malcolm McLaren writing the Bible, Mr. Shovel?
Mr. Shovel: He would have made the whole thing his idea.
Incubus Succubus III: It might as well have been him. It’s just all a load of malarkey.
One doesn’t need to follow history. One just needs to look forward to the future.
Am I being clear? Yes I think you are getting a hang of my verbal incompetence.
Ohh. Tomorrow there will nothing left, Mr. Shovel. Have you ever seen Los Angeles flat, Mr. Shovel?
Mr. Shovel: You’re just working up an excuse for a day off, I think.
Incubus Succubus III: DON’T EVER interrupt me like that again. I mean, leveled. No trees, no mountains, no buildings. No telegraph poles, no utilities. Just flat. I will make it so, Mr. Shovel.
There’ll be no more dreams. No more aspirations of being on a soap or the newest reality tv show.
THIS is reality Mr. Shovel: No more tomorrow. How’s that for reality for you? Does that make sense in your small, TV Land world? ASHES, that’s all you will have tomorrow. Dust of concrete. Oh what the hell does it matter. I’m going to have a quick little nap ‘til the next lot of music.
~~~ ~~~ ~~~
(another horribly painful Rubio’s commercial has just played)
Incubus Succubus III: Now you see why I have to level Los Angeles? When you have incompetent commercials like with the “surfer dude” the Bill-and-Ted voice, it’s so old. It must be removed…like everything else in Los Angeles. Don’t worry, Orange County, you will follow. After it is flattened here, I will descend on your neck of the woods. And don’t forget Ventura Boulevard. You and your Seven Elevens will be leveled and your Galleria. Yes. Don’t forget the Galleria.
You think I’m joking, don’t you? You wait and see. Six-Six-Six. It’s been a hundred years since I have been around. (breathes heavily) Why do I bother? Nobody listens. You’re too busy watching “American Idol”. It’s not called “Idol” for nothing. It idles your mind. Don’t get me worked up. I can’t stand your incompetence.
It took me a long time to come from the middle of the earth, up to this radio station. Do you understand how much drilling I had to do to get here? The heat factor? The rubble I had to push to one side with my head? No, of course you don’t understand! Cos you’re too busy playing with your iPods. FOOLS!
~~~ ~~~ ~~~
Incubus Succubus III: Such torment. Why? Why does man hate man? Why is there such an obsession for power? Why do we kill, to get an extra piece of land? I will tell you why:
Because I have wished it.
We will never be vegetarians. There’s always a side that likes carnivore. And oil. And gambling. And sex for money. There’s always a side that I push the buttons on. It’s the nature of the Beast. Go with your feelings.
Where would we be without wars and destruction? You might watch some documentary where there are killings and say, “Oooh. That is horrific.” But there is always that side that can’t stop watching. That is the side that can be easily swayed in my favor.
I will be back and wrap this soon and leave it to your own devices, you poor, foolish specimens called “humans”. You have no idea the magna and magma and the quagmire.
Yesss…
~~~ ~~~ ~~~
I hope I’ve exhausted all your avenues for escape. You had your chance yesterday, but now comes the time. I have to go now. I have to drill my way back into the middle of the earth. I can’t use the same way that I came, because it is already filled in. That’s the drag about the earth. Nevertheless, it was worth it, coming here for one hundred years’ worth. I will just take extra morphine when I get back into the middle. Mmmm. Morphine drip. And all the nubiles oozing around at my feet, ready to cater to my every need. You might think it’s called “Hell”, but I call it “Perfect Harmony”. In my world, anyway.
I’m going to leave you incompetent nincompoops to do what you will in this place you call, “life”. YOU ARE FOOLISH TO BELIEVE THAT THERE IS A FUTURE HERE. YOU HAVE NO IDEA THE AGGRAVATION THAT IS ABOUT TO COME ON YOU! DO YOU HEAR?
I SAID, DO YOU HEAR????
AAAAAAGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!
(and with that, he plowed his way back into the bowels of the earth. The End.)
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