The Door Within the Door: Chastity Descends Beneath the Church

” …when rockets go up they bring ice down from upper sky to lower sky; ice stuck in lower sky will fall on us during Apocalypse. Earth is flat; earth stands on 3 pillars (the Most Holy Trinity); pillars stand on water at zero Kelvin; underneath this ice there is a bubble; and then the abyss. Zodiac is planetary prison of demons…Walmart has technology to administer mark of the beast to those who have cat bacteria in their stomachs…”

Yahoo answers respondent, “Does the big gulp horchata from 7 -11 have dairy?”

Last we left Chastity befuddled, almost ready to utter the Lord’s name in vain in sheer frustration as the licentious gnomes retreated back to the Gnome Dome through the secret garden entrance. Her attempt thwarted, Chastity retreats to the Community Center next to the Church by way of the Joseph Smith Fitness and Recreation Center. The direct route was currently inaccessible due to construction on the addition of a Joseph Smith Underground Water-park and Sauna made possible by gifts of the Lord to the LDS Church through the holy wealth accumulated by the industry and virtue of its members. Finally reaching the Community Center, Chastity smiles at the endearing set designs of the Sunday school group, which include anthropomorphic grinning rainbows and a cardboard replica of the tablet given to Joseph Smith which revealed to us the one true Truth of the LDS Church. For a moment Chastity’s imagination considered what it would be like if a golden-haired child—her child—were to play the very angel in the children’s theater that passed on the tablet to Joseph Smith. Remembering that the production of children would involve bodily intercourse, Chastity’s lips pursed as fast and tight as a dog’s asshole. To purify her mind, Chastity decided to pay a visit to the deeper recesses of the LDS Church to contemplate the sanctity of continence and perseverance.

Chastity, however, makes a few wrong turns at basement #7, leading her into a series of underground labyrinths—not the familiar labyrinths of Thomas Kinkade paintings and sparkling clean casserole dishes that formed the foundation of the one true Truth of the LDS Church, but instead luridly colored plastic statues and repeating images of a man with a swirly stick and a pointy hat. Chastity had strayed into the underground recesses of the Catholic Church that had also been building additions. Though his help was immensely needed in difficult matters such as constructing an underground labyrinth in violation of building codes, the Holy Spirit had not found it necessary to intervene in the building project and inform the Catholics that the extra .5 mile to the left would cause the labyrinth of the Catholic Church to accidentally intersect with the labyrinth of the LDS Church, though this author must emphasize that, in evidence of its superior virtue, the LDS Church was entirely in compliance with building codes. Chastity is so lost that hope of finding the wrong turn that took her here is forsaken. Meanwhile, pressure from the vile body urges her to pee. Chastity searches for a women’s room in vain, for this is an area in which only those who share in the features of the Lord dwell and, thus, all defecatory facilities are accommodated only to the bodily components that do worthily imitate those with which HE became incarnated unto. Chastity walks into the men’s room anyway.

Chastity comes in unworthiness unto the bathroom of the Lord, lacking one of the appendages essential to HIS being.
God had a cock, but everyone needs to pee…

Chastity steps inside the stall and finds a lone toilet paper roll. But, ah, the irony—no toilet! Chastity remembers in tragic irony all the times of frustration at airport bathrooms and filthy park restrooms where she hovered over the toilet, and even her early days at Joseph Smith academy when Eve’s punishment descended upon her for the first time—all innumerable instances in which she had already committed to the act only to realize that there was no toilet paper, but only a barren cardboard roll devoid even of the small tuft of still-glued on remainder! And now, in devilish mockery was a full-swollen roll and yet no toilet!!! What stands instead is…another door. Too compelled by the need for urination, Chastity does not stop to dwell on the oddity, but merely flings it open and hurdles on forward in desperate hope of finding a porcelain bowl. And need we mention the tenfold increase in sense of urgency when one is disappointed in their prospect? For all of us have known the sensation of finding a porta-potty and lunging forward only to find that a padlock secures the plastic portal to relief.

Chastity enters a bathroom stall, but, oh my, another door stands before her!
She descends!!!

She descends an immense iron staircase plummeting through a basement so deep that the bottom cannot be seen. Does Chastity traverse the void, her only hope to a toilet, or does she hold it in? The will of the urethral sphincters is undeniable.

THE DOOR WITHIN THE DOOR.

The door slams shut, trapping Chastity in darkness. Yet she carries on with ardent heart, losing count of the many many stairs. After a good 10-15 minutes of descent, Chastity reaches the absolute limit of depth in the Sims. Finally, at the bottom, Chastity’s presence signals several hundred fluorescent lights to simultaneously turn on, revealing the presence of a set of thick, steel doors.

Having no precedent with which to evaluate such a situation, Chastity knocks on the door. If it is a bathroom stall, it does not seem to be occupied—but, ah! A laser beams down and immediately scans the biometric features of Chastity’s face while ominous Latin chanting blasts.

The Latin chanting ceases. “Welcome, Cardinal Dolan,” an electronic voice plays. The clicking of deeply embedded mechanisms unlocking sounds forth and the steel doors screech slowly open to reveal hundreds of feet of oriental carpet with giant stripes of gold piled one one top of the other like stacks of legos while the papal seal gleams in signal that these were in the holy possession of His shepherd. Chastity beamed in satisfaction, for the piles of gold were significantly less than she had expected. The vault of Joseph Smith that she had seen two years ago exceeded this amount several times over! As to why the vault had referred to her as “Cardinal Dolan” Chastity could not begin to inquire, for Chastity was unaware that, due to a precipitous increase in need to move money out of the official Vatican vault into the vault attached to a cemetery trust fund, the previous user had set the scan mechanism to automatically open for the next 24 hours to his name as his assistants rushed to transfer the contents.

The vault opens for Chastity, but Chastity opens for no one.
Chastity decides to count the money.

Chastity decided to count the money because it was there. And because she no longer had to relieve herself thanks to the surprise elicited by beholding a secret vault. The proud emblem of the institution of the truth of the only truth hangs on the wall.

Chastity counts almost all the way to five before her attention is disrupted by the noise of clinking bars of gold coming from behind. It appears that someone else has paid a trip to the vault…and also likes counting the Lord’s indulgences…

It was a tall figure in a strange hat and tightly buttoned jacket with emaciated face and a hat indicating high holy status. The severe black of his outfit contrasted unhappily with Chastity’s floral print like a death’s head next to a packet of bubble gum. “Who are you?!” exclaimed Chastity. “I had better ask first who are YOU?!” said the man in black, “since you must explain to me what your female presence is doing in a space reserved for HIS sacred priests?!! I am THE pope! Now, tell me who YOU are.” (Unforuntately, no one has yet created a Pope hat in the Sims. BELIEVE ME I TRIED TO FIND IT AND COULD NOT SO IF YOU CRITICIZE ME FOR DESIGNING THE POPE LIKE THIS YOU CREATE THE POPE HAT.)

“I,” replied Chastity with sharp indignation, “am a believer in the one true Truth of the Church of the Latter Day Saints of the Mormon Tabernacle!”

“Ah! Another heretic coming to undermine us! Of course!” screeched the emaciated man in black, “by spreading lies and rumors and calling up the power of Caesar and secular law to compel us to surrender gold from the holy vault! You think you can defeat us in court?! Well, let me tell you that our lawyers are legion! These funds are property of the cemetery trust and their extraction from HIS Church—I mean the cemetery trust fund—imperils religious liberty under the first amendment! Though it is the judgment of God that should cause you to tremble, heretic, for HE knows of your error and heresy even if the license of the secular society lets you live in lies and evil under its despicable first amendment and made up notion of human ‘rights,’ which asserts a notion of freedom as freedom from authority and everything true and good!”

Chastity paused to reflect…”like you?”

“YES!!!!” he SCREAMED…then he squinted his eyes and gave Chastity a glare of the kind of pride and contemptuous ex-communicative damnation to eternal torment truly worthy of the God of love.

Then, a sudden cold chill hit him. Perhaps a draft blew in from 345 feet upstairs where Winter was happening. Or perhaps he became aware of his own soul. Whatever the reason, he reflexively spun around to transform into Winter Garb. The Pope had, however, forgotten to change his outfit and stood in the shame of a DEFAULT BASE GAME SWEATER.

Chastity, with the keenness of vision to interior decor, skirt lace, and lampshade dust worthy of a respectable Mormon housewife, observed the non-matching seasonal attire with the icy raised eyebrow of silent judgment and pursed lips. As anyone knows who has been struck by the sharp dart of ice to the heart that is the silent judgment of the Mormon house wife, whether for loitering in a public space, defenestrating a piece of gum after rolling a car window down while Led Zeppelin plays from the radio, or displaying porn shoulders (literally people this is an actual word in the Mormon community for people wearing shirts that show their shoulders) it is a gaze more irreparably devastating, more implacably merciless and hard than the eye contact of the Gorgon or a DMV worker. The Pope, helpless against this dark magic, shudders in shame and begs to be redeemed.

“I’ll bring a casserole to the school play, I swear!” he screams from the terrified hole his soul has fallen into.

“Good. Good,” says the neutral, affectionless voice of Chastity, “and what else?”

“Um, well, um, I can show you the torture room. How would you like to see the torture room? Then, you promise, you…you won’t tell anyone I have a sweater that cannot be properly identified as either dark green or mauve? Please, it’s really cool. I have all sorts of pokies and pointies for the heretics. And some fire. There is also fire.”

Chastity scoffed, “maybe a bit of these gold bars can be sent to the Bank of the Latter Day Saints and I won’t even mention that it’s from the Sims H&M collection…”

“Oh god, no! Don’t tell! I have wines, from the Vatican cellar, over 1,000 years old! Take as many as you want!”

Full eye-lids went up from Chastity as she returned a cold, dead, horrified silence. Truly an institution that houses devil’s water beneath its ‘holy’ chambers was the anti-Christ.

Yet, curiosity compelled her. “Show me the torture chambers then…” she said.

“Follow me then,” said the Pope who exited the vault and made an immediate left, passing by His Eminence’s child containment chambers. The appearance of caged children clothed only in underwear with adjacent red velvet covered royal viewing loveseats provoked no response from her guide His Holy Eminence who walked past the cages with as little remark as if it had been a bread pantry.

“WHAT IS THAT?” shouted Chastity, having never seen pre-pubescent boys caged underground before. Only girls were to be caged! And besides, that was inside cabins where they performed housework until selected for marriage by a well-secured businessman. What madness was this?! The Pope continued walking as if he heard nothing.

“I said, ‘what is that over there?!'” yelled Chastity again.

“What is what?” said the Pope.

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN ‘WHAT IS WHAT?!’ I’M TALKING ABOUT THE CAGES FILLED WITH ACTUAL CHILDREN THAT ARE LITERALLY TWO FEET AWAY FROM US!”

“What cages with children?” said the Pope.

Chastity sighed with exasperation. How many times was she going to almost utter the word ‘damn’ in a single day?

“Is altar duty over yet?” whimpered a meek voice.

“NO,” said the Pope to the child who then ran into the corner and began muttering and trembling with confused fear.

“WAIT YOU JUST TALKED TO ONE OF THEM!” she yelled, “YOU SEE THE CHILDREN THAT ARE DOWN HERE. YOU JUST TALKED TO ONE. WHY ARE YOU TALKING TO IT?!”

“I didn’t talk to anyone.”

“YES YOU DID. THOSE KIDS RIGHT THERE. RIGHT. LITERALLY. THERE.” She pointed directly at the crazed child that paced rapidly in a circle beneath the fluorescent light.

Lies of the secular liberal society designed to undermine super truth…” grumbled the angry voice.

“I’m not secular. I’m a Mormon!” screeched Chastity.

“Lies of the secular liberal society and the gays. And Jews. Gay homosexual secular lesbian Jews that control the media…the decadent society that cuts off the head of truth and bears it on a platter like a whore…” he continued to shake his head grumbling and grumbling while heading for the torture room. But first, he played a bit on the pipe organ because, as leader of a Sims Club, he needed to add enough points to be able to get themed t-shirts. Also, because it was part of the pre-torture room viewing ceremonial sacrament (there was a different preparatory pipe organ blast piece for the pre-torture ceremonial sacrament, which was the same as the pre-torture room viewing ceremonial sacrament but in a minor key).

Evidence of the value of this sacrament is validated by the glowing octagonal Sims club symbol. We know he is the leader because of the crown.

Though she hates admitting it to herself, Chastity secretly finds the torture tune rather catchy. After completing this necessary ceremony, they head into the torture chamber.

“You know every single person that has ever gone in and out of here has recognized our claim to supreme and total truth?”

“Really?” said Chastity admiring the royal viewing seats which were lined with the plush of baby pandas and dyed with the blood of infidels. Deep down Chastity recognized that this was way more bad-ass than the whitewashed Joseph Smith Community Center where 90 year old women sold watercolors of blonde babies and flowers.

“Tell me what the thingies do,” Chastity said with glee.

“Well, those three swords up on the wall over the supreme seat of supreme judgment can be used to provoke recognition of truth by externalizing human intestines.”

“Ahhh!”

“And those giant flaring urns of eternal flame are NOT just for show. How else do you think you could heat up a poker until it glares white? And we wouldn’t want the soul to escape to eternal torment before it is shown truth through the loving efforts of our chamber members. The pokies can be made hot enough to cauterize gushing wounds.”

“Very clever!”

“This rug that you stand on right now was handmade in the Turkish Orient.”

“Aren’t they heathens?” asked Chastity.

“OH….uhhhh….what do you think of the scales of judgment on our table?”

The Pope pointed behind Chastity, who had formerly been admiring the knives on the wall to her left.

“The scales are always right,” he said.

Reason is supreme. The scale of judgment is right because it is the scale of judgment.

“How do you know that?” asked Chastity.

“Because they are the scales of judgment.”

“It kind of looks like they are tilting towards guilt even though they have the same amount of weight on either side right now.”

“That’s because the weight of sin is infinite.”

Thinking she had really snagged him Chastity replied: “Um. But isn’t God infinite?”

Chastity questions the authority of His Eminence.

“Yes. God is infinite,” the Pope replied.

“Then wouldn’t the scales be even? Because the two infinities would cancel?”

“No.”

“Why?”

The scales of judgment, proudly juxtaposed by the WORD OF THE LORD.

“Because the scale is correct.”

“Wait, what?! You can’t know that.”

“Yes I can. It’s logic. Everyone who comes in here has been guilty. We know this because this is the room of guilt. To assume that the scales are incorrect because the scale is weighing towards guilt is a fallacy because you are assuming that all outcomes must be predetermined by probability instead of truth. You are, therefore, making the unwarranted assumption that it is not possible for all those to be brought in to be guilty, which is a non-empirical assumption. It is the prejudice of secular liberal ideology. Jews. Gay Jews. That control the secular entertainment industry.”

Chastity knew that something had just happened to her brain, but her Mormon education had not provided her with the term “mind fuck.” The great intellectual tradition of the SUPREME TRUTH had bested her biblical Sunday school training and Joseph Smith. She had no idea what he had just said, but he said it with such conviction and confidence in magical words she didn’t know so he must be right. Luckily, Mormonism had already prepared her to sit quietly and patiently while men explained.

“It’s all in the book of supreme truth,” he declared proudly and pointed to his fancy painted version of it next to Chastity’s seat, “This one is from the fourteenth century.” He looked at his watch. “Now, excuse me, but I’ve got to ensorcell some crackers in an hour.”

“Wait!” said Chastity.

“Yesssss?”

“Can I…maybe…sometime…witness a torture?”

“Only cracker consuls get to witness a torture,” he replied, “and becoming a cracker consul is a right reserved only for those who possess all the holy appendages in image of the LORD…But since you liked it so much, I’ll toss in this personal thumbscrew as a souvenir.”

“Really? Can’t I participate in any way?”

“Well, I guess I could make you a cracker chamber maid…”

“What would that involve?” chirped Chastity, happy to fulfill woman’s destiny for God.

“Cleaning and prepping the torture room. And feeding the…leaving food outside to be consumed.”

Then I can watch a torture?”

“Then you can listen to a torture outside the chamber doors.”

“You mean where the children are?”

“Yes…I MEAN NO. OH GOD DAMN IT.”

Chastity smiled, having, for once, bested his intellectual and holy eminence.

“Sigh…I will show you where you can sit.”

The Pope led Chastity back outside the torture chamber doors to the chamber of child containment. Sitting beneath the emblem of His Holy Eminence in the royal viewing seats Chastity watched as the children, upon seeing the Pope, immediately began muttering some ritual.

“As feeding duty leader you are to slide trays of nutrient clay into these metal flaps.”

“But what if I want to bake cinnamon rolls?”

“That is fine…” he grumbled.

“Yay!” cheered Chastity. And for the first time in his darkness enshrouded entombment a child smiled with eyes of hope and delight upon hearing Chastity utter the words “cinnamon rolls.”

Chastity’s heart cheers as it feels called by the essence of womanhood to the duty of cinnamon roll baking in the name of the Lord.

Then, shifting his eyes around, the Pope’s face turned white with shock and then red with rage. He let out a deep growl and grumbled, “So it happens again…”

“So what happens again?” said Chastity.

“We are missing another one…”

“Oh?”

“There have been…disappearances among the confined.”

He gave out an angry glare at the children which fell into shuddering silence.

“None of the cracker consuls or myself have yet solved the mystery…but at the rate of approximately once a month, one of the contained vanishes…without a trace. There is no hole in the wall. Only a small piece of purple paper with a psychedelic eyeball on it in the place where a child once stood enchained. All we have on the camera is…every now and then…the image of a pointed red hat and a small bearded thing…if I were mad I would almost liken it to a Gnome…”

Chastity’s face turned white as well with recognition, “I know of what you speak!” she cried.

“Do you?!”

“I’ve seen them. I haven’t yet tracked them. I’ve tried! That’s how I ended up here! In your Eminence’s Holy Chambers, “I was looking for them! Sometimes I hear—“

“The sound of Indian Trap music?” he said, finishing her sentence with horror.

“Yes!”

“Then come,” he replied, “I must introduce you to other cracker consuls. We must share what we know. Though the fresh turnover of children does help preserve the palette of the priests from satiation, it would be better if they simply aged out in the time necessary for the statute of limitations to run out and for their means of disposal to be known…we’ve made some progress on researching the disappearances, however. We think it is likely due to the secular liberal Jews that keep trying to make documentaries about us.”

“I know, they hate us too. But if only we had the gold… “

“Yes, the LORD makes it known who his chosen are. The Catholic Church’s holdings are at least TEN TIMES the holdings of the LDS Church.”

“You are right. How can I argue with the most palpable evidence of the Lord’s favor?” replied Chastity. Then, in that moment it was decided. Chastity joined the Pope’s Sims club and also acquired an octagonal rainbow above her head. And the joint search began for the infidels’ opium den began. A persecution would be had in the name of the LORD!

And the search for the Gnome Dome of Opiome truly began…

Meanwhile, deep in another recess beneath the Church, the Gnomes were preparing plant medicine for ceremony space in the ritual of welcoming in the LSD conference in which the latest liberated child was to be inducted.

Will Chastity and the Pope successfully track the Indian Trap Music and purple strobe lighting to their source? What exactly is happening with the Gnome Dome of Opiome? Find out in the next episode!

4 thoughts on “The Door Within the Door: Chastity Descends Beneath the Church

  1. I don’t get the cinnamon roll thing. Who’s she baking for? There are only two people there. No need for toothbrushes and soap, certainly.

    In my confusion, I accidentally ordered 100 T-shirts with “I HAVE TO GO ENSORCELL SOME CRACKERS” screenprinted on the front. Can we get like a merch page and also sell cinnamon rolls from there?

    Liked by 1 person

    1. YES. LSD and LDS reveal the hidden likeness that is within difference! The inner TRUTH is that Joseph Smith….was a gnome. AND BUILT THE DOME WHILE ON ACID.

      Liked by 2 people

      1. LOL! Now that, I can believe!

        Where can I get a green rolled-collar cable-knit sweater with wooden-knob buttons? Do they sell them in Rome? Or in Utah?

        Like

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