There is no child sacrifice without Moloch. Dispensing with subtlety, we openly worship at the God's altar while exploring its controversial origins. Then we enjoy the innocent tale of a young couple moving into a new home. ALSO THE DENOUEMENT OF AWARD-WINNING MOLOCH THE OWL SAGA.
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Original music for Jake story: Adam Westbrook
Music by Nick Sena (www.nicksenamusic.com) and Pontus Berghe (www.chapelone.com)
I mean this is a story of a young family and moving into a new house and I don't know I
think it's a nice little slice of life and I really hope you guys like it.
Move-in Day Last one to put their box in their bedroom is a rotten egg!
The sounds of excited footsteps pittered across the old wood floors.
Hilary plumped a box down on the grand kitchen counter and wiped the sweat from her forehead, grinning ear to ear.
She couldn't believe it.
After everything her and Bill, and Chelsea for that matter, had been through, they had finally made it.
The White House.
It was almost too surreal.
Hilary and her husband had been dreaming about this day for what felt like decades, and yet, it had all become theirs so quickly.
Or at least it felt that way, as she stood watching Chelsea trample up the old staircase, clutching a worn cardboard box, overflowing with stuffed animals and school notebooks.
I wonder if Lincoln ever leaned on this very counter, dissecting the evils of slavery and how to stop it, Hillary thought, resting her elbows on the counter and feeling a deep sense of love and admiration for African Americans.
I can't believe you guys got most of the boxes already.
I feel like a toad.
His lines always are going to be a fucking problem for me.
I'm sorry.
I can't believe you guys got most of the boxes already.
I feel like a toad.
Bill sauntered into the room, chuckling to himself.
He took pause to notice his strong wife, her sleeves rolled up and sporting a broken in pair of Levi's jeans.
What?
What?" Hillary asked playfully.
Bill was always handsome.
But now that he was the President of the United States, there was something extra about him.
He pulled her in for a quick warm embrace.
You're the only woman I want to look at for the rest of my life.
The words nearly took her breath away, but only because she knew Bill meant it.
In the decades they'd been together, he had never so much as even glanced at another woman.
Her friends were always teasing her that she'd married some goody-two-shoes church boy.
They weren't wrong.
Bill gave her a final squeeze and strained his tie.
I gotta go give a press conference on the lawn.
Are you two gonna be alright by yourselves?
Hillary joked with him.
Well, I'm not so sure.
It's an old house.
Bill cocked his eyebrows.
You don't think it's haunted, do you?
Hillary took a step back and rested her elbows behind her on the kitchen counter once again only with the ghosts of
Liberty and equality She held a serious look for a second before the two of them
cracked and smiled and laughed together Today was a good day Hillary said she gave bill one last
squeeze before he exited through the kitchen door and disappeared
Hillary stood alone in the kitchen for a moment taking it all in
Chelsea's voice rang through the empty mansion Hillary instinctively took off running towards the sound of her
daughter's voice She sprinted down a long hallway, and as she turned the corner, she saw Chelsea, standing about a hundred feet away, frozen, looking at something just out of Hillary's line of sight.
Hillary, concerned, slowed a bit, and continued to walk briskly towards Chelsea, closer, and closer.
When she was within feet of Chelsea, she saw it.
Socks the cat was urinating onto an ornate, priceless carpet in the center of the Jefferson living room.
Both Chelsea and Hillary stood frozen watching in horror.
Socks finished his business, licked his paws, and bounded off into the depths of the house.
There was a thick silence.
Hillary and Chelsea burst out laughing.
I'll get the spray, Chelsea quipped.
She took off towards the kitchen before pausing and turning back towards her mom.
Where is the spray?
Hilary thought for a second.
I have no idea.
The two sat scrubbing the expensive carpet.
Great, Hilary thought.
Here have walked all the greats.
Lincoln, Kennedy, FDR.
And here I am, my first day on the job, and my cat pees on it.
It's not like him.
What?
Hillary said, snapping to.
He doesn't have accidents.
Socks.
He didn't have one back at home except when he was little.
Chelsea seemed a bit concerned.
Oh don't worry honey, I'm sure he's just nervous, Hillary said, putting her arm gently around Chelsea's shoulder.
It's a new house.
Chelsea nodded.
It's a big new house.
The two sat cross-legged on the floor staring at the damp spot on the carpet.
SLAM!
The sound of a door banging shut echoed from somewhere within the house.
The noise startled both Hilary and Chelsea.
They squeezed each other a little tighter.
Slowly, they picked themselves up off the floor and cautiously made their way through the hallways looking for the source of the sound.
We have to make sure Socks isn't trapped!
Chelsea yelled, taking off up one of the staircases.
I'll search upstairs!
Hillary combed through the lower floor.
She lingered in one of the many libraries.
She noticed a small notebook was laying on the blue carpet.
She glanced up and saw an empty sliver in one of the cases from which it must have fallen.
She carefully picked the book up and began to comb through the pages.
It was a diary of some sort.
Hillary read aloud.
March 11th, 1933.
As I wander these sacred grounds, I picture a world where all human beings, not just men, are created equal.
The first week in this magnificent palace of freedom has humbled me considerably.
Within these walls I hope to unite the world at large.
Why fight when we can care for one another?
Questions like these have moved me to begin to draft what I believe will be wildly progressive policies.
Policies that aren't rife with loopholes in the hopes that the most fortunate of us will willingly support the less.
Today was a good day.
Signed, FDR.
A single tear rolled down Hillary's cheek.
It was as if she was reading her own diary.
She skimmed a couple of entries ahead, and as she read aloud, Hillary's expression seemed to shift to one of horror.
April 2nd, 1933.
Something wicked within me grows.
Faint at first, but stronger every day.
I am filled with wild paranoia.
Our enemies grow strong.
With the discovery of nuclear fission, my fears increase.
I worry of a weapon capable of crippling our nation with a single blow.
We must be prepared.
Prepared to defend ourselves.
Prepared to retaliate.
Prepared to strike first.
Without warning, Hillary clasped the diary closed and quickly put it down.
She stared at it for a beat as it sat on the desk, glaring back at her.
Hillary jumped about five feet in the air.
What is it?
She called out.
You should come see this!
Chelsea's tiny voice echoed from somewhere within the house.
Hillary took one last look at the journal, then exited from the downstairs library and joined Chelsea
in an adjacent hallway.
She was standing in front of a wooden door at the end of a corridor.
Look!
Chelsea pointed to a small golden plaque next to the door.
For no reason should this door be opened at any time.
There is an evil here.
It lives in the basement.
Signed George H.W.
Bush.
Chelsea looked over at her mother, her eyes wide.
Cool!
Hillary put her hand over her head.
She couldn't help but smile.
Chelsea was a good kid.
Smart and brave.
Hillary knew that one day, Chelsea, like her parents, would become an amazing lawyer, politician, maybe even president.
Hillary slowly placed her hand on the doorknob and jiggled the handle.
Locked!
She smiled at Chelsea, a little relieved.
They both were.
Don't you two look white as a hammock in July?
Bill was just getting home. A swamp of secret service agents flooded into the kitchen and then seemingly vanished
into thin air.
Bill looked energized.
Don't you two look white as a hammock in July. What have you been getting into?
Hillary looked down a little embarrassed. She had let herself get caught up in the fright. Chelsea blurted out,
Socks peed on the carpet!
Chelsea!
Hillary crowed.
She glanced back at Bill.
It's true.
Socks peed on Mary Todd Lincoln's rug.
She kissed Bill on the cheek.
How was the press conference?
Bill lit up.
Fantastic.
I started laying the groundwork to announce the private prison ban.
I talked about lighter sentences and community programs for non-violent drug-related crimes.
I mean, they seemed to respond really well.
Chelsea spoke up again.
We also found a scary door.
It said that there's evil inside.
Bill glanced over at Hillary, who reluctantly nodded sheepishly.
Well, okay, then show me.
The three stood in front of the door, Bill tracing his fingers around the edge of the doorway.
It's locked up tight, alright.
And then he joked, maybe that's where they keep the nuclear warheads.
Everyone laughed nervously.
Come on, I'm beat.
We can check it out in the morning.
There's gotta be some sort of presidential key around here somewhere.
Later that night, all three slept lightly.
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