No matter how nice someone is, no matter how peaceful, innocent, or shy, there comes a time when one has to summon the Dark Chthonic Gods™ and make a wasteland out of your immediate area while you dine over the bodies of the desiccated husks that once had jobs and paid taxes.
I mean, everyone goes through this occasionally… like every twenty-three minutes on the dot. Right?
Maybe this “How To” isn’t for you. I am sure there are thousands of other blogs that contain helpful suggestions like how to boil an egg, how to quilt a bee, how to cook without falling down, how to build a skyscraper, and how to drive out the churning midnight thoughts that drive you half-mad with callous laughter and visions of humanity drained dry like so many discarded Strawberry-Kiwi Capri Sun pouches.
Okay, now that everyone else is gone it’s just you and me.
I can’t share this information with just anyone after all. That’s how I end up being a discarded Strawberry-Kiwi Capri Sun pouch. Although between you and me, I’d rather be Fruit Punch. For everyone else, Strawberry-Kiwi it is!
Summoning the Dark Chthonic Gods™ into your living room, bedroom, kink house, sauna, or makeshift church made out of driftwood and plastic gallon milk cartons is easier than one might think. I mean, who doesn’t have salt, candles, an iron bowl, a good stabbin’ knife, a wand made out of volcanic obsidian, a mahogany pedestal with an ancient copy of the Lemegeton on top, a ruler, and three quarts of goats blood?
Draw the sign of Solomon in salt on your floor, place candles on the cardinal points, put the stabbin’ knife blah blah blah. Stuff every kid learned in grade school, between math and reading. You know, the summoning and control of the manifestation of the darkness of human nature made real in the form of a nightmarish being whose sole purpose is to rain ruin on the world with the intention on letting loose the obsidian chaos onto that dick Kevin who stole my lunch when I was eight?
Oh, no. Summoning them is easy. The problem is getting them to leave.
You see, the Dark Chthonic Gods™, being dark and chthonic, don’t get hints. And directly asking them politely to leave will encourage them to break out the sharpened straws.
So here is how to banish the Dark Chthonic Gods™.
MAKE YOUR OWN HOLY WATER
Become an ordained minister. This is not a difficult matter. You need nearly no qualifications or indeed intelligence to become a minister, as any scan of a Christian TV station will attest.
What type of minister do you need to become? Doesn’t matter. The Dark Chthonic Gods™ are not choosy on whom they munch on like a spirit-filled Twix.
Haven’t graduated from College / High School / Middle School / Elementary School / Kindergarten / being born? No problems! Become ordained by the Universal Life Church where, for only about $50.00 and a one-hour training course, you can become a legal(ish) ordained minister!
Now that you’ve done that, you can turn ALL the things into holy water! Tap water, filtered water. puddles, streams, rivers, lakes, estuaries, and oceans. Heck, make your sweat into Holy Water!
GET YOUR HOLY POWER ON!
With your new-found station in life, perform miracles! Turn wine into urine! Feed five-thousand people with nothing but your faith and a seriously overextended credit card! Raise fictional characters from the dead! Announce everything you do by screaming “IT’S A MIRACLE!” Go around and join in matrimony everything you see, including animals!
Grab the nearest policeman by the collar and scream, “THERE ARE UNFAVORABLE OMENS IN THE SKY!” You can explain that you’re a minister just before your arrest.
Keep in mind: power corrupts, absolute power corrupts absolutely, and divine powers turn you into a butthole. So watch out for that.
Once you are invested with all of the powers of the gods into your tiny human meat shell, that is the time to politely ask the Dark Chthonic Gods™ to leave, provided they haven’t already eaten your soul and pooped it out.
You’ll find that in general the Dark Chthonic Gods™ are a fairly reasonable lot, all things considered. Just a couple of squirts of holy water and a ritual intonation of, “welp, it’s getting late. I have work in the morning. Let’s do this again very soon” should do the trick.
Never say “me casa es su casa” or invite them to stay the weekend because the Dark Chthonic Gods™ tend to be moochers.
Or conversely, let them stay so at the very least you aren’t alone when the dark whisperer purrs your name out from the void, promising you the power to visit red delights to the horrorworld upon which the insect called “humanity” crawls and mewls, heedless of the word “doom” pealing like their funeral bell…