“Knick Knack Carrowack, where you keep your bitches at?”
Bring’em round, get ‘em showin’, long’s they get my juices flowin’.
Big girls, lean girls, and all those in-between girls.
Slap an ass, grab her tit, toss her back into the pit.
French, feel, finger fuck, come on bitches, keep me up.
Make her moan, make her scream, c’mon Sir, let off some steam.
Knick Knack Carrowack, give that bitch a bone.”
Sister Agnes Killian had promised to herself that she would burn it all. Nothing could cleanse like God’s
holy fire. Besides, if it was good enough for Hell, it would more than suffice for the brothel. She turned
her worshipful eyes up towards the glistening heavens, watching as the flames reach up for the stars.
The hungry roaring of the inferno engulfing the building echoed across the plains, that roar was almost
enough to drown out Nick’s screams, almost. The skeletal remains of the whorehouse tried to stand
defiantly against the blaze, but one by one the timbers collapsed onto the scorched earth. The lush
olives trees that had been planted around the house to offer it shade were starting to catch now too,
their leaves withering and turning dry as the surrounding scrubgrass. She looked on with a righteous
smile on her face as greasy black smoke billowed up out of that Temple of Sodom. Great clouds of soot
and ash, heavy with shame and loose morals, and maybe a bit of human flesh here or there. Yes, the
hint of the nauseatingly sweet stench of burning pork definitely betrayed its presence. It made the pious
sister’s mouth start to water.
The roof of the Oprey Room finally gave way to the assault of the flames and intense heat
building inside of it and collapsed. A shower of sparks cascaded into the air as the great dome fell
inward, all the beautiful frescoes painted on the inside forever lost to the flames. Watching those
dancing and twirling cinders, Sister killian found herself wishing that maybe the heathen injuns were
right in that respect; that each spark was a soul going up to the heavens. The lord alone or maybe Satan
too, this was his domain after all, knew how many souls had been torn asunder within the walls of this
damnable place. She knew that Nick’s soul was now amongst that number. Nick Carrowack who had
traded womens’ flesh like so much meat, who had been a cruel and despicable; some might even say
evil, man. But nonetheless he was still a man, and like all men, the Saviour had died for his sins.
“Besides’ she reminded herself, “no soul soul is truly evil’ At that thought, Agnes allowed a wicked smile to creep across her face that proved that no soul was truly good either. ‘Yes,’ she decided, ‘Nick Carrowack would walk in paradise before the night was over.’ She just hoped that the purgatory he was going through was a high enough price for it. She tried to reassure herself that a little homegrown purgatory never hurt. She thought of Nick lying there, tied down to the bed and struggling anainst the chords that bound him. She thought of the constant barrage of threats, curses, and pleading he had shouted at him as the kerosene poured out of the can onto his naked sex. She thought of how those shouts had turned to screams when she dropped the match and showed hime what an actual ‘fire-crotch’ was. Blushing at the memory, the good sister turned her eyes skyward once again. The smoke was filling the night sky and spreading out across the plain, coloured a ruddy grey from the hellish inferno raging beneath. She smiled peacefully and began to move her lips,. “Eternal rest grant unto him Oh lord…”
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