Murmurs of sinners spread unto the desert darkness like the cries of wolves. They summoned unto their gaols and catacombs and said among themselves “a Man comes from the east. His words pierce like fine blades and his eyes cast like thunderbolts from Sheol.” And others said he worked miracles by turning alcohol into piss and that his cock is the size of a serpent. “I heard it’s below average!” cried another.
And lo, the staff of the elder clanked stridently against the sandstone. All were silent. And the elder stood and raised his arms and begged his countrymen “whom amongst us can stop this Beau Montana?”
As stillness loomed over the assembly, one stood as a minatory phantom. He was shrouded in black cloak and carried a Colt 1877 around his waist. When he unhooded his face, men averted their eyes for fear of looking upon Belial himself. “I am Asmodeus,” he said. “I’ve seen Beau Montana. Our paths have crossed many times. He speaks with the tongue of a charlatan and his eyes are as shallow as the meres of Hanmer. If you wish to rid yourself of this vermin, you must come to me.”
The mouth of the elder sat agape and his brow furrowed together into a towering peak. The old man exhaled and pleaded with the phantasm. “Forgive me,” he said, “but if you know this Man, why haven’t you killed him?”
The phantom called Asmodeus cackled like a rabid lobo and he casted his direful smile upon the crowd. “Beau Montana is a wily one,” he said. “One simply cannot kill him. He must capture him. And return him to the uncharted and inscrutable lands.”
“This is poppycock!” a man cried out. “What you speak of is the power of god! We are Mormons for christsake! We don’t fuck with that shit!”
Asmodeus’ eyes reddened and the wrath of a thousand hounds of hades echoed through the cavern. The man convulsed and spittle poured from his lips and the guttural sounds of death pierced men’s ears like a ghostly bellow. Flames erupted from his feet and the shrieking grew as fire consumed his body until his cries were ripped apart and carried away into some unknown doom. Blood spouted from his head and quenched the flame and there was nothing more than smoldering ash and bone.
“Alright,” said Asmodeus. “Any other questions?”
TO BE CONTINUED…