The shot helpfully closes in on a sign that reads “Focus Group” with an arrow pointing to the left. A group of everyday Joes take heed of the sign and start filing into the room it’s pointing to, which turns out to be a very generic looking board room with a large monitor in the front and one wall composed of shaded one way glass.

Oh, and naturally Samael Dyson is there too. And for some inexplicable reason he’s dressed like a cartoonist’s vision of what a film director would look like, complete with a beret and an ascot.

“Please….enter….enter! Make yourselves comfortable!” Samael welcomes them.

The shot then quickly cuts behind the two way glass to reveal that THE GREAT Korvayne and possible vampire subversive Remi Storm are standing there with notepads. Korvayne looks like she’s about ready to die of boredom.

“This is soooooo dumb and I hate Samael for doing this sooooooo much.”

“Did you dress him?” Remi asks.

“Of course not!”

“What are we supposed to be doing anyway?”

“Apparently Samael somehow filmed an entire movie in the last two weeks and he’s focus grouping it.”

“Ah!” Remi nods with understanding. “And we’re supposed to take notes on what the focus group says?”

“Yeah but I’m just using mine to draw stick figure versions of Samael getting mauled by various carnivores.”

“I see.”

“This one’s him getting eaten by a velociraptor.” She turns the drawing towards Remi. It is indeed a crude picture of Samael getting chewed on by a velociraptor.

“Cool.”

Back in the room, Samael watches as the participants all take their seats. They look a little unsure of themselves as they do so however, clearly in the dark as to what exactly they’re going to be watching.

“First of all, thank you all so much for coming. And before we begin, I want to dismiss any spurious rumors you may have heard about friction between me and my ART Foundation stablemate Korvayne. Everything is perfectly fine between us. Management screwed us over by changing the match stipulation at Bad Medicine and making us fight each other. Also Korvayne was totally blitzed out of her skull after doing numerous fat rails of cocaine in the dressing room, so she didn’t even realize it was me that she was pinning.”

A loud bang can be heard from behind the glass. One of the participants raises his hand timidly.

“Did anyone else hear that?”

“No one else did.” Sam states conclusively, glowering at the one who spoke up. “Anyway, today you’re here to bear witness to cinematic genius. A film full of pathos, heart, soul, and spirit! A film that will show you that Appalachian mountain people are more than just sister fucking, Bible thumping, scabies riddled, backwards paranoiacs  No! They’re sister fucking, Bible thumping, scabies riddled, backwards paranoiacs with a story to tell. So without further adieu, presented in conjunction with The ART Foundation, and acted by the Lionel Pennyfarthing acting troupe, un film de Samael Dyson….

Appalachian Torture Porn: The Judd Hollow Story

A robust looking woman enters the shot, waving a switch wildly as she squawks, “YOU ARE THE DEVIL, BOY!”

“Oh wow, you got Kathy Bates!” one of the attendees states.

“Oh no, that’s actually Maryanne Thomas, a Kathy Bates impersonator, but a fine actress in her own right.”

”No Mama, not the switch!” a pig nosed, greasy haired boy who’s clearly supposed to be Judd scurries around the broke legged kitchen table to avoid the flying switch.

“I’m a gonna beat the devil out of you!”

“Yeah, stand still so your mama can hit ya!”

Another, mean looking figure enters the cabin holding a bear trap with a mangy squirrel stuck in it.



The boy, not watching where he’s going, runs headlong into Papa Hollow, who gives him a good cuff across the mouth! This sends the boy rebounding back into Mama who whips him with the switch, which in turns sends him back towards Pa who cuffs him. The boy is ping ponged between the two for a solid five minutes in a scene that would probably benefit from Yakkety Sax playing in the background.

“Now git in that thar cage outside boy!” Pa orders.

Sullenly, the battered, bruised, and bloody boy complies. He steps outside the rickety cabin to a cage on the porch that looks like a dog kennel. The boy goes to open it but his hands fumble on the rusty mechanism.

“What’s the problem, you some kinda ?!”

“Whoa…whoa…whoa!” one of the attendees interjects. Sam pauses the clip and turns to them.

“What’s the problem?”

“Does the film have to use THAT word?”

“It’s a very hateful word.” another attendee agrees.

“What….” ”? Well, it’s just in there to make the scene feel more authentic. But hey, I’m not gonna die on that hill, we can take it out. And let me be clear, I’ve got no problem with those kinds of people. Hell I had a Rollerwhore with Down syndrome once! Let her give me a blowie and everything.”

“Ewwwwww!” Korvayne squeals behind the glass.

“Okay, I definitely heard something from behind the glass that time!”

Sam continues his story, undeterred. “But then the old girl caught feelings and well, heh heh, she had to go! But long story short, love the downsies. Now can we please get back to the movie without any more distractions?! God!”

Judd finally gets the cage open and crawls inside, looking pitiful.

“Hey ma, I got an idea! Let’s poke him with pointy sticks!”

“Good idea pa!”

“No, please don’t!” Judd wails. But his vicious parents ignore the boy's pleas and start jabbing at him with pointy sticks through the bars of the cage. The boy screams and cries as he’s punctured over and over again. This painful humiliation ritual goes on for TEN FUCKING MINUTES.

“Look pa, there’s a bear over there. And he don’t look so good!”

“Naw he don’t.”

The shot reveals a poorly animated CGI bear wandering into the shot on two legs. He’s rubbing his stomach and making a sound that’s halfway between a pained growl and that sound cats make right before they puke.

“You gotta take a shit, bear? Come over yonder and shit on this here cage.”

“What?! NOOOOOO!”

The bear hovers his ass over the cage and unleashes a torrent of diarrhea all over Judd! Judd squeals in disgust and flails, spattering the drizzling shits all over!

“Oh my gahd he must have one of them thar PARASITES!”

The shit slurry scene goes on for another ten minutes!

The shot cuts back to the attendees in the board room, who are shifting anxiously in their seats as the torture goes on and on and on. Samael on the other hand looks positively enrapt with the scene.

”Boy oh boy he is covered in SHIT, pa!”

“Sure is, ma.”

“Let's poke him with sticks again so he’un get an infection!”

“Please….please stop!” Judd begs for mercy.

But his pleas go unanswered as his gruesome parents again start stabbing him with pointy sticks, causing the bottom of the cage to become awash in puddles of shit and blood. The boy screams and cries plaintively for another TWENTY MINUTES.

The bear laughs at the boy from the sidelines.

One of the attendees looks like he’s had enough. “Okay, does the child torture really have to go on this long?!”

Samael looks confused. “Well….yeah! How else are we going to establish Judd’s tragic upbringings?”

“It’s just that this writing is really kind of hacky. It lacks all subtlety and makes Judd’s parents look like one dimensional caricatures.”

Korvayne suddenly has a bag of popcorn in hand. “Oh this is gonna be good. Sam’s gonna lose his shit.”

“I think you’re right.” Remi concurs. “Hey, can I have some?”

Korvayne turns her body and the bag of popcorn away from Remi. “No. You’ll get fat.”

Indeed, Korvayne’s prediction soon comes true. Suddenly, Sam’s Ubermensch is standing behind the critical attendee. The giant goon takes hold of the attendees head and twists, breaking his neck with an audible snap! The rest of the focus group scream and reel back in horror!

“Oh shut the fuck up!” Sam shouts. “I swear to God, it’s like casting pearls before swine in here!”

“B-but I thought it was our job as a focus group to offer our opinions?” one of the group members offers timidly.

“No! Your job is to watch the film and slob my knob over how great it is! FUCK!” Sam adjusts his ascot and regains his composure. “Now, if we can continue? Let’s jump ahead a bit. We’ll be skipping the completely realistic and not at all credibility defying scene where a slightly older Judd kills the bear with nothing but a spear because you guys don’t deserve to see that. We’re going to continue on to the scene where the eerie and mysterious Reverend Malachi Graves discovers Judd. And let me tell you, Malachi is very VERY interested in this supple young teen boy. You might even say obsessed.”

The focus group members look at each other uncomfortably.

“I wonder if Malachi Graves is related to Michael Graves? I mean, it would be really confusing for the average viewer if he’s not!” Remi queries.

“I don’t think so. Probably just didn’t do enough research before joining the Fed.” Korvayne shoots a fourth wall shattering look at the camera. 

Anyway, back to the movie.

”I am VERY interested in this young teen boy.” Malachi Graves says to himself as he not at all creepily spies on a teenage Judd Hollow through a pair of binoculars. “Not in THAT way of course.” He reassures himself none too confidently. “That kind of thinking is what got me in trouble in New Orleans. No! I’m only interested in what he means for the vague yet dark and foreboding prophecy this book's a portent of. Why, I didn’t even notice his sun kissed skin, or his well defined abs, or the playful come hither glint in his eye as he looked in my direction ... .oh shit, he saw me!” Malachi drops the binoculars and pulls a couple of small branches in front of himself in a futile effort to hide.

“Mister, I can see you!” Judd called out, rolling his eyes.

“Dammit!” Malachi puts the branches aside. “Uh….hey big guy, what you up to?”

“Were you spyin’ on me?”

“No! Well….maybe? But only because I think you might be the chosen one that can read this book I have!”

“Hm. Still kinda weird.”

“Yeah, I suppose.” Malachi abandons his hiding spot, dusting himself off. He approaches the boy, who eyes him warily, and sticks his hand out for a handshake. “Malachi Graves, Creepy Reverend Esquire!”

Judd slowly extends his own hand and shakes Malachi’s. “Judd Hollow. Surprisingly Literate Appalachian Orphan.”

“Literate, eh? So maybe you can read this peculiar book of mine.”

“Might reckon I could. But let’s head back to my cave before the diarrhea bears find us.”

“Diarrhea bears?”

“It’s a long and traumatic story. I’d rather not get into it.”

“Fair enough. Lead the way, young man.”

The duo pick their way through the dense Appalachian forests, finally arriving just before dusk at a cave mouth. The boy stops to check a trap before entering the cave and pulls out a dead squirrel.

“Gross! Don’t tell me you’re gonna eat that!” Graves exclaims.

“Well what else am I gonna eat, mister? It ain’t like there’s an Applebees up yonder!”

They enter the cave and Malachi watches as the boy starts a fire with nothing but a flint and steel. Looking impressed, Malachi seeks to start a conversation again. “Sooooo, do you work out?”

“Huh?” Judd looks perplexed.

“Nevermind! Just….nevermind! BEGONE LUSTY THOUGHTS!”

“You’re kinda strange, mister.”

Malachi waves his hands in the air dismissively. “Look, lets just get back to that book I was talking about. If you can read it, that probably means you’re the chosen one!”

“You keep sayin’ “chosen one”. Chosen one of what?”

It’s Malachi’s turn to look perplexed. “Well, you know, the CHOSEN ONE. Does it really bear more explanation than that?”

“Kinda, yeah. I mean, it makes for a pretty hacky plot device otherwise.”

Again, Malachi pays the criticism no heed. “Here, just take a look at this.”

Malachi reaches into his backpack and pulls out an elegant leather bound volume. He hands it off to Judd who takes it and opens it. Suddenly, Judd’s features scrunch up in disgust!

“What the hell mister, this is just a bunch of dirty pictures!”

“What?! Oh shit! Wrong book!” Judd takes the book back and this time we catch a glimpse of the title: The NAMBLA Guidebook.

Back behind the shaded glass, Remi turns to look at Korvayne quizzically. “What’s NAMBLA?”

Korvayne pets Remi’s head. “Oh you sweet, sweet summer child.” Then, turning once again to address the fourth wall. “If you value your freedom and don’t want to get on any federal watchlists, I would highly recommend NOT Googling “NAMBLA”.

Back to the film, Malachi roots around in his backpack for a moment before producing another book. This one looks far, far creepier.



Malachi hands this eerie tome to the boy. “Would you believe I found it in a New Orleans pawn shop buried underneath a bunch of 30 year old skin mags?”

“Well I reckon not! But here, lemme see if I can decipher this thing.” Judd opens the book. The unknown material its made out of creaks in reply, and Judd starts leafing through the ancient looking mildewed pages.

“Well? Do you know what it says?”

“Hecks yeah, I can read this! It’s in an old Indian language my pa taught me. You know, when he wasn’t beating my ass.”

“Your pa? You mean the one who didn’t even graduate Kindergarten? He taught you a dead centuries old language that not even most university trained linguistics experts would know?”

“Well…..yeah!”

“Huh. Doesn’t make a goddamn lick a sense but I’ll take it!” Malachi sits down uncomfortably close to Judd by the light of the fire. “You know, you have a particularly masculine musk about you.”

“You want me to learn you this here book or are you just gonna keep doing weird shit?!”

“Sorry….sorry!” Judd scoots further away from Judd. “Now please, teach me oh chosen one!”

The movie pauses and we’re cast back into the room with Samael and the focus group. The Ubermensch is standing behind Samael glowering at the attendees. The dead focus group member is pitched forth onto the table and bleeding out the mouth now.

“Well, I didn’t hear anymore bitching and moaning that time, so is it safe to assume you all liked that part?” Samael says.

The focus group members all flash Sam nervous looking thumbs ups.

“Goddamn right!” He raps his knuckles on the table in a self satisfied manner. “So now we jump ahead to Judd as an adult, where he is in full control of the completely vague and possibly nonexistent powers that Malachi Graves said he possessed. Enjoy!”

The film fires up again, and we see a close up of what is presumably Judd, bedecked with greasy dreadlocks and looking a couple decades older.

“Now, finally, I AM THE OMEGA!” (No relation to Robert Main). And as THE OMEGA, I am the one who dispenses pain and suffering to all sinners! Including myself!”

The shot pans back to show that we’re in a bathroom. And Judd has his pants around his ankles. “And to show you that I am the one true OMEGA, I will inflict grievous harm on myself and power through it without a scratch!” Judd drops his underwear and mercifully the camera cuts away before we can see any of Judd’s manhood. Judd then kneels in front of the toilet and proudly proclaims. “Watch and see the power and resilience of a true OMEGA!”

“How many times is this guy gonna say “OMEGA”?!” Remi grouses.

Back on the screen, we see Judd jostling with something below the eye of the camera. He then takes the toilet seat in hand with a defiant gleam in his eye.

“I have placed my testicles on the edge of the toilet, and I will proceed to slam the toilet seat down upon my scrotum!”

Korvayne looks utterly bewildered. “Jesus Christ, why?!”

Judd takes hold of the toilet seat and violently slams it down. He bites back a pained howl, his veins in his neck pulsing wildly as he goes red in the face. “OMEGAAAAAAA!” he cries like some perverse battle howl. He picks the seat up again and brings it crashing down on his testicles once more. And again he bites back a scream, his face growing still darker shades of crimson as it looks like a vein in his temple is fixing to explode. “OMMMMMMEEEEGGGGGAAAAAA!” he cries again.

The shot returns to the conference room, where the male attendees are all squirming in their seats and looking horrified. Sam, naturally, still looks enrapt in the twisted scene.

Judd brings up the toilet seat a third time and smashes it down yet again! His eyes flutter like he’s about to pass out from the pain, but he soon recovers and lets out another senses shattering cry of “OOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMMEEEEEEEEEEGGGGGGGGGAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!”

Just then, the bathroom door opens and standing in the entryway is the Reverend Malachi Graves wearing leather bondage gear and carrying a riding crop.

“Sounds like someone is jonesing for a world of hurt!” Malachi says with a lusty twinkle in his eyes.

“Oh yes, reverend! Please….hurt me more daddy!”

Malachi cracks the riding crop against the door frame and beckons for Judd to follow him. Judd does so, crawling on all fours with his pants and underwear still around his ankles. The shot then slowly fades to black before settling on….

UN FILM DE SAMAEL DYSON

The film ends and the shot returns to Samael standing at the fore of the board room.

“Well, what did you all think?” He casts an imperious gaze at the assembly.

“Wonderful!”

“Magnificent!”

“A plus!”

The accolades come rolling in as the dead focus group member’s blood continues to run down the length of the table.

Sam claps his hands together. “That’s what I thought too! Okay, you’re all dismissed. Please pick up your complimentary ART Foundation tote bag on the way out.”

The focus group cannot leave fast enough as they all rush out the door. Sam then turns to the shaded glass.

“Okay ladies, come on out.”

The shot goes behind the glass to reveal that both Remi and Korvayne have already dumped their note pads on the floor and departed.

Sam waits a moment for them to emerge, and when they don’t he shrugs.

“They must have been moved to tears by the greatness of my film and they’re still trying to compose themselves.”

Sam looks straight on at the camera.

“You know, it wasn’t easy crafting a master class of film making from the Judd Hollow story. I mean, have you seen these dog shit promos?! Judd, you are to the horror genre what a crappy cover band is to music. Dull, uninspired, hackneyed, and lacking even an ounce of ingenuity or creativity. Let’s look at what we have:

Sadistic backwoods family? Check!
Creepy book? Check!
Vague apocalyptic prophecies? Check!
A spooky sinister preacher? Check!
Religious cult? Check!

Talk about polishing a turd! It’s like this guy took every horror trope known to man and spun them into a smorgasbord of also ran b-movie dreck!

And this is the guy we’re supposed to believe is being primed to be XWF’s next big thing? Oh, don’t look at me like that! Management’s vision for this hick bumfuck asshole couldn’t be more obvious. Three matches in and already he’s getting a title match? Please!

Now on the surface of it all, I bet that seems mighty impressive. Until you realize that this guy has yet to be challenged in the slightest!

Apathy?
Jordan Penn?
Holly Cambric?

Jesus FUCK where do I even begin?!

I mean, Apathy WHO? Raise your hand if you even remembered that boohoo bitch had a contract? I sure as hell didn’t!

Jordan Penn? You mean Chuck’s MUCH lesser half? Jordan Penn has yet to do ANYTHING but hold the Anarchy tags with the equally useless XXXVI (or whatever the fuck he’s calling himself these days) for a cup of coffee and get carried to another tag title reign by perennial skidmark extrordinairre Charlie Nickles. The only thing this guy has proven is that he’s completely WORTHLESS on his own!

And the good doctor Holly? Add her to the “who the fuck remembered she had a contract” column too! Talk about falling off the map, this flaky physician has done bupkis since the last cult that infected the XWF folded!

In short Judd, you’ve done nothing but feed on the guppies of the XWF since you lurched your redneck ass through our doors. You’ve done NOTHING to deserve this title shot. But I guess with that walking Ambien SEB as Universal Champion tanking the ratings, management is desperate as fuck to create new stars. But that’s just it, Judd. You’re not new. There’s nothing about you that’s new. You're just a shallow retread of the whole creepy cult dynamic that we JUST saw with the Black Rainbow.

But I guess there is one thing I’ve gotta give management credit for, as loathe as I am to do so. Thematically, this match is pretty on point. I mean, you came into the XWF jawing about how you’re here to “cleanse” this place of all its sinners. As if we haven’t heard that little nugget before. But for as devoid of creativity as your angle is, you might as well have declared war on me in saying it.

Because hunty, you’re looking at sinner numero uno! You want to “cleanse” the XWF of everything dirty, foul, and nasty? Step right up bitch! You might as well have put my name in your mouth. But don’t bet on this being easy. You are, after all, looking at the XWF’s resident wrestling GAHD! Mr. Briefcase! One of the greatest XTreme champions of all time! And now a member of the preeminent faction in the entire XWF! You’re gonna have to bring an entire army of cultists to get this job done. So bring Father Pederasty! Bring that Garnisha bitch or whatever the fuck her name is. Bring the entire Appalachian Tabernacle Choir for all I give a shit! Your numbers are irrelevant, because I’ll always have more! You want to make this a war of sinners versus “saints”? Please do! Because all you’ve got on your side is an absentee God that allowed you to be used and abused in the first place!

Get it through your thick, inbred skull! GOD IS A NO SHOW! And I’m living proof of that. Do you think a just and loving deity would have allowed either of us to suffer the abuse that we did? Wake the fuck up you simpleton! Your faith is as meaningless as your shtick. Your slavish devotion to an empty religion shows your mind is just as weak as your body! And at Warfare, you’re gonna be singing hosannahs to Samael Dyson as you beg and plead on your fucking KNEES to make the pain stop!

I’m your daddy, bitch. And I’m sticking you back in that cage forevermore.











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