Storytelling

There once existed a man who was on a rather macabre pursuit of truth and self-knowledege. He was labeled "depraved", "sickening", "horrid", "repugnant", "different", "repulsive" by the bourgeois. He was eventually caught and sentenced to death by the guillotines. Just moments following the beheading of this man, triumphant cries of exhilaration and joy over his death emitted from a throng of onlookers. As monstrously maniacal as this man was, the festive atmosphere of those celebrating his execution was far more monstrous.

The jamboree was savage; in their rapture the onlookers lost elements of their own humanity; their perverse triumph wholly subsumed them and corrupted their hearts. One by one, each onlooker transmogrified into the feral monsters they sought to slay. One particular onlooker (an aged man probably in his sixties, his face almost completely hidden behind his thick glasses and bowler hat) even hollered ebulliently, "Alleluia! The wretched bastard is dead! He is finally dead" Amongst the hideous chorus of cheers from the quasi-festival, I could tell that he was the most barbaric of the lot.