Jay-Z Worships Satan
Jay-Z ran his finger across the black marble top of the sacrificial altar. He looked at his finger carefully, checking for dust. Despite its lack of use, the altar was still perfectly clean. It was important that the altar always look perfect— not just to show his devotion to Satan, but because it was the centerpiece of the living room. He smiled, and his reflection in the marble smiled back.
He carefully lit the candles on the altar. He could feel Baphomet’s eyes on him, looking down from the pentagram on the wall. He felt comforted.
Beyonce stepped into the living room. “Jay,” she said, and her voice was quiet.
Jay-Z turned around. “What is it, Bey?”
Beyonce touched her belly. “I’m worried,” she said. “A lot of people know about this pregnancy. What if it slips out that it’s twins?”
“It won’t,” Jay-Z said. He stepped away from the altar and embraced Beyonce. After a moment, he pulled back, and put his hands reassuringly on Beyonce’s shoulders. “As long as we have the birth here, and not in a hospital, things will go perfectly. The smaller will be sacrificed immediately, so the other can be Satan’s chosen vessel. He will protect us until the End of Days finally comes. You don’t have to worry.”
Beyonce sighed happily. “You’re right,” she said. “I need to trust in Satan’s will.”
Jay-Z brushed a strand of hair out of Beyonce’s face. She was so beautiful. No wonder she was to be the bearer of the Antichrist. “Just think of how beautiful and bloodstained our altar will finally be, once we complete the sacrifice.”
“I can’t wait,” Beyonce said, smiling.
