“Below, it runs, in the depths, waiting for a new victim, waiting, for its next feast, but, we will not allow it, we, WE WILL NOT IGNORE IT, WE WILL STRIKE, AND, WE WILL KILL IT!” The wild eyed preacher yells, throwing his hands in the air, as thunder cracks behind him, followed moments later by a bolt of lightning.
“Isn’t it supposed to be bolt first?” one of the men huddled within the small crowd of people who stand in front of the crazy sage says to another standing beside him.
“Nah, you’re wrong, it’s always thunder first, then lightning,” the other replies.
“Are you sure? I thought you start counting once you see the lightning and then, when the thunder comes, you have an idea how close it is, short space of time, close the storm is.”
“Nah, your right, sorta, but it’s the thunder, and then you count, and when you see the lightning, that’s when you know how close it is.”
They look back toward the preacher, as he continues his insane ramblings, “And then we will strike the beast, and we will take its heart and feast upon it, taking in its darkness and making it into LIGHT!” He yells down towards the crowd, they scream back at him in agreement.
“I think it’s thunder first,” the first man says back to the other.
“Dude, seriously, face facts, you’re wrong, we both saw it, we both heard it, right above us, it’s thunder, then lightning.”
“Nah man, it’s wrong, it’s, it’s, it’s just wrong man,” he says, thrusting his hand into the air, waving it about like a child desperate for a toilet break. “EXCUSE ME!” He yells out, the crowd falls silent and the preacher looks down upon him.
“What is it my sheep? What words do you wish to share with us?”
“No words oh mighty one, but, I do have a question,” he replies.
The preacher smiles, “Then ask it, and I will answer it, for the lords words flow through my lips.”
“Fantastic, now, is it thunder first, or lightning?” He asks, the preachers face drops of all emotion, and his eyes glaze over in a stupor, as he tries to fathom the question.