The Number of the Beast

The Number of the Beast!
– A lesson in Endtime Interpretation! – New Thrills and Spills!

I was in that half-awake, half dreaming state early this morning—the kind of half-drunken nonsense state where I usually make serious, life-changing decisions that affect thousands—when my beloved scribe heard me mumbling, “The Devil always copies God. Nothing he does is new. The Devil hates sex, but God loves sex! Sex, sex, sex!”

When I woke up, I had no recollection of anything. I had even forgotten my dream about Russia and the gypsies and King Juan Carlos of Spain, as well as the Little Doggie. As I sat on the toilet farting out the dung of David, which yea, even these are anhungered for, Maria knocked on the bathroom door. “I’ll be done in a minute!” I roared, puffing on my cigar to mask the thunderous farts and bowel-gurgling of David.

Maria stuck her head in the door. “Oh, I don’t need to go—” she began. But then she staggered backwards gagging and coughing. “I told you not to come in,” I said, pulling up my pants over my bloated potbelly. As I washed my hands throughly (Something most Gentiles forget to do. Believe me, I know: I’ve watched them in disgust in public bathrooms), Maria said, “I wanted to ask you about your dream this morning.” Then she read it to me.

“The Devil always copies God. Nothing he does is new. The Devil hates sex, but God loves sex! Sex, sex, sex!”

Immediately I burst out in Gypsy tongues, then Russian-sounding mutterings, then a high Arabic trilling, dancing and spinning in circles. “That’s it!” I cried. “The Devil has six, six, six as his number, but God has sex, sex, sex as His number.”

I quickly looked up Revelation 13:18: “Let him that hath understanding count the number of the beast: for it is the number of a man; and his number is six hundred threescore and six.” See, six, six, six is the Devil’s number, right? But what about God’s number? What is it?”

(Maria:) Seven, seven, seven?

No! Ha! See, that’s the old churchy interpretation! Let me give you a hint. The Devil’s number is six, six, six and he hates SEX. God loves SEX so what is His number?

(Maria:) Three, three, three?

(David slaps Maria.) Stupid, foolish little child! No! It’s SEX, SEX, SEX! Ha! What revelations God sheweth unto this thy little father which these do not comprehend. (More blubbering and tongues.) See, when the Antichrist rises in the Endtime with his False Prophet, God has his true Prophet, right? So if the Antichrist and the False Prophet have six, six, six as their number, what number do I, the true Prophet, have?

(Maria:) Sex, sex, sex?

YES! You got it! And if the Devil’s people have to receive his mark, his six, six, six brand on their right hands or foreheads, what do our kids have on their foreheads?

(Maria: Sex, sex, sex?)

Yes! Sex, sex, sex! Only instead of it being the number of the Beast, it’s the number of the Best! We’re the BEST, right? Haven’t I said that again and again? The Family’s the Best! And I’m personally the best of the best! In fact, I’m the Best Beast! Didn’t one of the old prophecies also call me a Monster?—when I was Snowman and the people of Interlaken said, “What a monster!” Ha! And a monster is a beast! So I’m God’s Beast! In fact.....

(David bursts into agonizing tongues, writhing and groaning in the spirit. He collapses backwards onto the coffee table, smashing it to pieces and sending his morning coffee-raw egg mixture splashing all over the rug.)

It just came back to me! Beauty and the Beast! In our FFing, Maria, the little buck-tooth dork, was Beauty, and I, the handsome Don Juan with a girl in every port, was the Beast. And just like our FFers changed Beasts into men, so Maria changed me! I’m the Beast! Got it? Sex, sex, sex was the number of THIS Beast, the magical key that turned me into what I am now.

(David weeps long and loud. He suddenly strips naked and runs out the door, beating his chest and howling. He flops down on the back lawn and eats grass.) I’m like Nebuchadnezzar, see? God turned him into a beast eating grass for seven years and YOU turned him back from a beast into a man.

(Maria:) I did?

Yes, you did! And seven years, get it? The Seven-Year Covenant! Oh, it’s all coming together!

(Neighbors start looking out their windows so the obese, naked beast-man scrambles back in his house.) Whew! What a revelation! Did you get that? The Last Seven Years of the Beast must just be about to begin! We need to be ready!

(Maria:) So should all our kids get Sex, sex, sex stamped on their forehead?

Yes! In permanent ink! And make sure to use red ink! For love and hearts!

(Maria:) Why is Sex, sex, sex stamped on some people’s right hands?

To remind them to masturbate! Oh, it fits! It fits! (More tongues.)

(Maria:) Wow! We gotta get this one out to the Family right now!

(Knocking at the door.) OPEN THE DOOR! Th is the local Psychiatric Strike Team. Open the door. We have a warrant and a strait-jacket!