"God is dead. God remains dead. And we have killed him. How shall we, murderers of all murderers, console ourselves? That which was the holiest and mightiest of all that the world has yet possessed has bled to death under our knives. Who will wipe this blood off us? With what water could we purify ourselves? What festivals of atonement, what sacred games shall we need to invent?"

We celebrated Thanksgiving in the Afterlife.

Welcome to Valhalla.

"Take this cup away from me."

Cluck to tour Valhalla.

Suffer the children.

Azrael took attendance from the Scroll of the Elect.

We were children of Earth and starry heaven.

The Passion.

The Stations.

The Virgin Kevvy.

Angles.

Spoons in Sto-Vo-Kor: Q'apla!!!!!!

Thanks.