Gashman the Uncontrollable

The ground shook, the stars seemed to quiver instead of twinkle, and a great burning overtook the Earth's seas: This was a judicial, righteous punishment on the unfaithful by Gashman the Uncontrollable, the fiery gastropodian lord of the omniverse.

Gashman had recently woken from an unmeasurably lengthy slumber for pain in his Tentacle of Wrath; It was anticipatory of the coming slaughter that is usually in the midst and wake of Gashman's annual visits to Earth, whereupon his great extremities fall onto the infidels and dolphin worshippers alike. Their flesh falls from their bones, their orifices are invaded and torn asunder, unspeakably holy fire is emitted from all pores in the Earth's surface. However, something was amiss this time: before his vengeance was wrought, Gashman had seen from his powerful eyes (which beheld every vertex of his domain at every given second) that many parts of the Earth were blanketed in a thick white sheet of crystalized water, laying beneath the tranquil night sky.

As Gashman pondered this awkward discovery, a sharp panging screech was perceived: "HO, HO, HO! MERRRRRY CHRISTMAS!"

The foundations of reality shook, and Gashman himself was partially taken aback by the horrendous squeal. He looked in the direction from which the bellow was loudest, and noticed nine reindeer drawing an obese man and squalorous sack in a decrepit sled across the thundering winter sky: Gashman had record of such a man, and his name was Santa Claus.

Gashman was enraged at the circumspection of this infidelic malefactor. The very ideal for which this heathen stood was utter blasphemy committed against Gashman and his absolute rule over all existence. The fat man rode along the housetops and neighborhoods at great speed, but Gashman was aware of his every movement, and indeed, his every thought. Claus was unaware of the Great Lord's presence. It was time to bathe the unholy in splendorous annhiliation.

While Claus had temporarily set down onto the plane of a bungalo in a dirty ghetto, delivering his cheap toys to the bastard sons and illegitimate daughters of stupid, oblivious parents, Gashman slid through the filthy chimney and laid his tentacles around the fat monster planting his false happiness beneath a terribly disshevelled tree. The obese heathen reeled around and saw into the abyssal gaze that Gashman beheld him with. The very instant he caught sight of the immense eyes of Gashman clawing, piercing their way into the most corpulent parts of his evil soul, his bowels moved in such a way as to mimic a train's piston; his genitals were set ablaze in untold delight and agony by such orgasms that his red pantaloons now matched the white lining upon his hat. He cried tears of joy and fright, and drooled blood and parts of his own innards. Santa Claus was making quite a scene of himself.

Gashman knew an opportunity when it presented itself. His tentacle of lust bored its way through Claus' shivering urethra while the Tentacle of Wrath began working the now tawdry skeletomuscular system in twain. Claus was torn apart and thrown to the four winds now blowing over the bloody house, and the thought of Christmas vanished with his demise. Gashman had once again conquered a religious icon, and with this, he bequeathed a command unto the world with a detatched voice of such volume and command behind it that the mantle of the very Earth erupted from every active volcano:

"AS YOUR UNDENIABLE LORD AND INTERMINABLY UNIVERSAL HOST, I, GASHMAN, DO HEREBY DECLARE THAT FROM THIS INSTANT ONWARD, THE NINETEENTH DAY OF YOUR PATHETIC AND UNCOUTH MONTH, DECEMBER, SHALL YOU MUSTER UNTO ME THE INNARDS AND SOULS OF SWINE, FOR THEY ARE OF THE CLEANEST AMONGST YOU FILTHY HEATHENS. THIS DAY, AND EVERY INSTANCE OF THIS DAY, SHALL BE KNOWN AS BOARMAS, AND DESPITE YOUR OBSEQUIOUS CONFORMITY TO MY IRON WILL, THE DOLPHIN WORSHIPPERS AMONGST MY COMPLETE AUDIENCE SHALL NOT BE SAVED FROM THE INDEFATIGUABLE JUSTICE WROUGHT UPON YOU FOR YOUR CRIMES. SO SAYS GASHMAN THE UNCONTROLLABLE."

As the quaking indicative faded into the ethers of the omniverse, there arose the unmistakeable sound of every entity on the planet finding a way of sexual release: Massive orgies, the birth of intercontinental pornography films; from the little boy that had seen Claus' destruction by Gashman's tentacles jamming an assortment of ornaments into his anus, to the reindeer that pulled the humongous charlatain along the skies falling off of the roof to their deaths while in the heat of orgasmic release.

As Gashman sped off to a dark pit on the outskirts of the dimensional planes, he roared again, as a sort of bittersweet farewell:

Gashmanian Expedition #6: Gashman vs. Santa Claus OR the Birth of Boarmas