Holder of Everything


In any city, in any country, go to any hardware store or tool shop you can get yourself to. Once there, go to any employee, sigh in awe, and say "Will you look at all that stuff?"

The employee will proceed to list everything that is for sale. Listen to what he says and do not interrupt, or every tool and instrument noted - every hammer, every wrench, every set of pliers - will play a part in your drawn-out death.

At the end of his listing, ask to see someone who calls himself "The Holder of Everything". Take the key the employee will give you. The employee will ignore you, going back to whatever business was taking up his attention.

Use the key to go into the bathroom. It will be very small and cramped, giving enough space for only the moldy and stinking toilet and one person. Close the door behind you, lock the door and sit. You will see upon the door various graffiti and writings ranging from the lewdest to the most derogatory. Use a pen that you have brought along and write on the door "How will everything react to their coming?"

For the sake of all that is pure, do not write anything else or do anything else, for the putrid water of the toilet will begin to spill, slowly filling the room until you have drowned in the mixture of water and human waste. You will not be able to open the door at that point.

If you have done the simple task of writing the question, the answer will slowly write itself on the door. The writings will detail the anguish of loss and the death of hope that will follow the eventuality of their coming. All you should hear is the scratching of an invisible pen writing its unholy message on the door. Should you hear anything else, you must immediately close your eyes and bang on the door, screaming. The sounds should cease. Should you not do this, or should the sound continue, failure will entail an eternity of red carnage and gore.

When the writing stops, you will be free to leave. Open the door and walk out of the hardware store. Look at the key.

The key is Object 50 of 538. It will feel frigid every time you touch it. Should it ever warm, your time is at hand.

Categories: | Parodies |

Last modified on 2012-09-17 17:42:12Average Rating: 3.4 / 5 (5 votes)Viewed 12428 times

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