Bettie Bundy will be performing at an abandoned factory outside of Salem. His soy-obsessed manager, Hershel Donahue, has been making preparations for tonight’s event. Bettie has requested a priestess, a modified water fountain for red wine, and pole dancers. The factory was previously owned by Hyde Samuelson, a notorious prankster reviled by fellow members of high society. It’s also rumored that he was involved with the occult.

Before his death, Hyde Samuelson promised one final prank, but it never came. He never admitted it, but he hated them for how he was treated. They never took a joke, and everything with them was always serious. For Hyde Samuelson, life was about laughs, but his jokes fell on deaf ears. Blessed by wealth and cursed by his blue collar sensibilities, he died at twenty-five from a heart attack.

His grave was found empty with a note ten years ago. “My love will have his last laugh,” signed by Lady C. This mysterious “Lady C.” could be Catherine Bates of the Bates real estate empire. She was twenty-five at the time of his passing, and Miss Bates has an occult reputation as well. The duo were known for doing sexual rituals together at the park around midnight. A monk would always call the police in order to get them to stop. Hyde usually screamed “REEEEE” like a frustrated bullfrog as the police carried his bare ass out. Catherine would throw things at the officers and yell at them in Latin. Eventually, they stopped interrupting the ritual because they’d return every Friday. The rituals were meant to honor an unknown spirit and kill the ego. The eradication of shame would free them from their spiritual shackles.

Bettie Bundy was fully aware of the history of this factory, and that’s why he wanted to perform here. Hershel advised against it because of his connections with the high society of Salem. “We shouldn’t be here, Bettie,” Hershel said very timidly while tapping on Bettie Bundy’s shoulder. Bundy cackled as he turned away from the hooker that he snorted cocaine off of. “Are you afraid of the occult? No, no, it couldn’t be that. You’re worried about your business connections! Listen, Hershel: I am the most profitable venture you have. Roastie-brand lubricants and lingerie don’t sell like I do,” said Bettie as he sat down. Hershel stood there infuriated but unable to do anything. Bettie Bundy was right, and has been consistently.

Hershel is in a perpetual state of emasculation because of this six-foot womanizing goth rocker. Hershel is a portly little man that has trouble reaching his drink at the bar. Mr. Donahue’s romantic life is inconsistent. In his free time, Hershel will dress up as Bettie Bundy for roleplay purposes. Female fans that won’t get the opportunity to be with Bundy will get high before fucking the mini-Bettie Bundy. Knowing that drugs have to be involved only emasculates him more.

Hershel observes the hotel room filled with hookers, drugs, and loose cash as he tries to find words to say. “I’ve found a fountain and hired pole dancers for the show, Bettie. But I don’t know where to go for a priestess. Do you know where I can find one?” he said with a defeated expression on his face. One of the hookers hopped over and tapped Hershel on the shoulder. He was noticeably excited but that excitement would leave as soon as it came. “Go to the C&C occult book shop near City Hall. It’s run by Baroness Calypso and Catherine Bates. I’m sure you’ve heard of her. Catherine’s family controls a real estate empire,” said the hooker before returning to bed. Hershel let out a sigh and left the hotel.

Hershel spent fifteen minutes walking to the store while listening to Marsupial Mindframe lectures on his phone. The store was in an old Victorian building with tattered banners hanging in front of the windows. Some of them had blood on them, but that didn’t deter Hershel. Keeping Bettie happy means a huge payday. As he enters, the scent of incense and pumpkin spice smacks him in the face. “Go away, little man. I know what you seek, and it’ll only lead to suffering, especially for you,” said Baroness Calypso sternly. Hershel ignored the warning and approached her. “Fine, but don’t say I didn’t warn you,” she said as she put down an old tome. “My client has requested a priestess for his concert,” said Hershel in an aggressive tone. She smiled as she muttered something in an ancient tongue. “Yes, the great Bettie Bundy wants a priestess to perform a ritual at Hyde’s old factory. The spirits told me everything this morning, and they also said it’d lead to something horrible. But they weren’t specific about what would happen,” said the Baroness as she put the book away. Hershel wasn’t swayed by any of this. “Listen, I don’t care about this nonsense. All I know is keeping Bundy happy means my bank account grows. So, are you going to help me or not?” Hershel shouted. The Baroness smiled as she handed him a black rose. “It’s your funeral, Hershel,” she said with excitement in her voice.

As he left the store, the rose pricked his finger. An army of crows were outside sounding off and staring directly at Hershel Donahue. People chanted in an unrecognizable language at him as he passed. He could barely hear the lectures that gave him the confidence to enter the store. The portly fool is starting to realize that there might be something to the beliefs that his client holds. This outraged him even more because he wanted to be right for once.

As he approached the hotel, everything started to calm down. He rushed to the hotel room to tell Bundy everything. He barged right in without knocking, interrupting Bettie’s fun with his harem. “Dude, what the fuck? There’s a sock on the door, I’m in the middle of getting some,” said the visibly angry Bettie Bundy. Hershel looked down, knowing that there’s a fifty percent chance that he’s about to receive a beating. “I’m sorry, but it’s important.” Hershel said as he turned around.

“Hurry up, I plan on finishing,” Bettie exclaimed as he pointed a pistol at Hershel while covering himself with a pillow. Hershel sat down and held up the black rose for Bettie to see. He immediately noticed the blood and smiled. “So, she doesn’t like you I see. That’s unfortunate for you; it looks like I’ll need a new manager soon. I always told you to be more respectful towards people like me, Hershel. Oh well, I guess you’ll be departing from this world soon,” said Bettie while patting Hershel on the back. “Shut up, Bettie! That interaction with the priestess was nothing, I tell you! She probably dipped the rose in some hallucinogenic liquid.” Hershel bellowed back at him. “You’d be lucky if that was all she did to you,” Bettie said, clearly enjoying this more than he should.

Hershel left Bettie to tend to his harem while he explored for a bit. There was a sudden chill in the air as Hershel looked for a place to eat. The occasional demonic chant would pierce his ears, and faces would morph as he passed. Hershel convinced himself that it was all his imagination, but that didn’t stop him from considering prayer for the first time. The only open restaurant was a pizzeria called Papa Skull. Both the interior and the exterior of the building had a 19th century occult theme.

Hershel ordered a small mushroom and pepperoni pizza. Everything seemed normal for a moment, and the pizza was amazing. Customers were enjoying themselves, but the room got warmer with each bite that he took. Hershel closed his eyes for a brief moment, and when he opened them again, his heart sank. The men were half-demons, and the women were succubae.

His heart was racing as he began to eat faster and faster. The half-demons and succubae were staring at him, and some were moving closer to him. Hershel had just finished his meal as they got a hold of him. “Please don’t kill me, I haven’t been paid by Bettie Bundy yet!” Hershel squealed as they ripped his suit off of him. Two of them said that they’ll be taking something else from him. “Anything that doesn’t involve me dying is fine by me. But I’ll need a replacement suit before I leave,” said Hershel as they moved the table away from the booth. Half-demons and succubi took turns with him for six hours. You could hear him beg for mercy all the way down the street. Hershel woke up in front of the hotel in a tattered suit with lipstick on the collar. Bandages were covering the left side of his face. It took a couple tries for him to get off the ground.

He slowly made his way back to Bundy’s hotel room and knocked. “Come in, Hershel,” said Bettie in a surprisingly happy tone. The door flung open, and Hershel walked in. Bettie Bundy was playing a zombie game while a groupie rested on his lap. “Woah, what happened to you?” Bundy whispered, pointing at the sleeping groupie.

“I went to Papa Skull’s and ordered a small pizza. After I finished eating, the people turned into half-demons and succubae. They ruined my clothes and got very rough with me,” Hershel whimpered. Bundy tossed some molly at him. “Go to your room, lay down, and take that. You’ll feel better tomorrow. The factory is almost ready for the concert,” said Bettie.

He waddled his way to his room, and as he opened the door, a vase of black roses was sitting on the table. “Fucking hell, I just want to take these drugs and go to sleep.” said Hershel, knowing that his day was about to get worse.  His name was repeated louder and louder as a raven pecked the glass outside. The radio came on, and Baroness Calypso yelled “Hershel!”

“What do you want, bitch!” he bellowed with a very nasal whine. She laughed malevolently back at him. “Answer me!” said Hershel while shaking. “Your submission, Hershel. I’ll get it soon, but you’ll be wishing for death first,” said the Baroness before the radio went silent. Hershel took the molly with a sip from his bottle of chocolate soy milk. As he laid down, the high started to kick in as he fell asleep. He slept without any interruptions for two days. Bettie slammed on the door while yelling obscenities at Hershel. He woke up and looked at his phone to see six hundred text messages from Bettie. “The concert is today, fucking hell. I better get to the door before he breaks it,” said Hershel under his breath.

He opened the door and received a smack that could be heard down the hallway. “Why haven’t you responded to my messages? You ungrateful motherfucker, I should fire you, but that would be too kind,” Bettie said while playing with a switchblade. “I took the molly and passed out. I’m sorry, Bettie, believe me!” said Hershel on his knees pleading with him. “Put the back of your hand on the table. I’m going to teach you a lesson,” said Bettie. Hershel complied with his client’s demand.

Bettie cut a circle into his hand and dumped salt on the wound. “From now on, you will answer when I call,” he said with his hands firmly around Hershel’s neck. “Yes sir, Mr. Bundy,” said Hershel in the most servile tone imaginable. The two of them rode together to the factory. Baroness Calypso, Catherine Bates, and a young woman were waiting outside watching them arrive. Hershel’s head started pounding as his eyes met with Calypso’s.

Catherine remained silent as the Baroness greeted them. “It’s so wonderful to meet you, Bettie Bundy. I’ll perform the ritual whenever you’re ready. I could use your manager’s help, if you don’t mind,” said the Baroness with a devious smile. Hershel grimaced at the thought of working with her, but her young assistant did catch his eye, so Hershel reluctantly agreed to help.

The young woman had a perfect body: it was as if the gods made her out of the finest marble in existence. Long black hair, light olive skin, childbearing hips, and perfect breasts. A truly divine creature gracing the Earth with her presence. Hershel was infatuated with her immediately.

Unfortunately, Hershel’s love was an unrequited love once again. But he was determined to impress her by being a hard worker. The Baroness had him place the altar in the walk-in freezer. The altar was decorated with skulls and runes. There’s enough space for someone to lay on the altar. Two masked men brought in a cross that will be placed behind it. Hershel took on most of the burden of setting things up while his uninterested crush relaxed on the altar. He noticed that she was looking at photos of Bettie Bundy with a very pleased look on her face.

This enraged Hershel, but he didn’t want to upset her by giving his opinion. The banners featuring depictions of Hades, Set, and Hel were on each wall. Symbols were painted around the altar by the Baroness while she spoke to herself in two languages: ancient Greek and Demotic. Hershel tried to ignore her presence, but she’d occasionally spit at him if he got too close. Once everything was finally prepared, the Baroness told him to get Bettie Bundy. Hershel rushed to the VIP area to get Bundy and Bates. When he walked in, she was sitting in his lap. They were acting like old lovers reunited for the first time in a decade. Hershel was shocked to see this. Bettie had never shown any real romantic interest in a woman for as long as they’ve known each other. He’d always been about casual hook-ups and nothing more.

In the nine years of working with him, this was the biggest surprise for Hershel. Bettie had a softer side that was previously hidden. Hershel approached them slowly. “Yes, Hershel?” said Bettie as he reached for his drink. “The ritual area is ready, sir,” Hershel declared. The three of them made their way to the walk-in freezer. As they entered, two separate groups of acolytes were chanting as the beautiful young woman laid naked on the altar. One group chanted in Ancient Greek and the other in Demotic. “I’m very happy to see the loving couple back together! Hyde and Catherine have reunited at last. I am but a humble servant of the two of you. I offer to you my cousin Alessandra as a gift, and Hershel as a sacrifice. The two of you will achieve immortality tonight. A new era of darkness is upon us!” said Baroness Calypso with glee.

Hershel turned around to make an exit but the two masked men from earlier were blocking the door. They were wielding battleaxes with bloodstains on them. Hershel’s fate was sealed here tonight. He could get decapitated by the guards or killed by the Baroness. Surrounded by enemies, he went with the less painful option in his opinion, which was ritual sacrifice.

“Hershel, don’t you think it was odd that I appeared out of nowhere nine years ago? There was no record of a Bettie Bundy or Tom Smith from Tennessee. But that didn’t stop you, because you saw dollar signs the minute I walked in. This was all an elaborate plan to build up a following and turn Salem into the first city taken by Underworld nobility since the Bronze Age,” said Hyde Samuelson with a devious grin. The Baroness ordered two of the acolytes to grab Hershel and put him on the cross. Tied to it with barbed wire, the portly, soy-loving fool started bleeding out. He had an excellent view of Alessandra’s breasts, but the pain took away from the enjoyment that he felt. Hershel finally got to see the perfect specimen undressed, but he would not be enjoying her fruits.

The acolytes began chanting once more, and Baroness read passages from her tome out loud. Hyde and Catherine undressed themselves quickly. The two of them made passionate love with the virgin beauty Alessandra as Hershel looked on with rage. The masked guards approached him and doused him in gasoline before lighting him on fire. After six minutes of screaming, a guard stabbed him with a shiv. His eyes went before his ears did, and the last thing he heard was Alessandra moaning “I love you” to Hyde.

Hershel now looked on from inside the mirror of souls watching the Baroness join in the unholy fun. He screamed and slammed on the mirror, but it was all for naught. Hyde, also known as Bettie Bundy, left with the three women that would help him start his royal line. There was never going to be a concert. It was sacred ground for them to perform on. The followers of Hyde would take over cities one by one until the whole world was under his control. The flesh of his enemies would be harvested and turned into pepperoni for the Papa Skull’s pizza chain.

But his time in the mirror would be short-lived. Emperor Hyde brought him back as an immortal mouse that cats would torment for eternity. Hershel’s days were spent running from predators and getting caught in mouse traps. Hyde got a lot of pleasure out of tormenting his old manager. It seems that the semi-successful manager’s nightmare will never end. But strangely enough, Hershel preferred life as a mouse. He finally met a woman that loved him back, and the two of them had a few litters of mice together. So it wasn’t so bad for him in the end.