‘You’re Invited to The Cookout’ by Linwood Storm [Multiverse Myths]

Disclaimer: The tale that you are about to read has been illegally extracted from the Orion Five’s incomplete galactic archives and therefore any information provided in it should be deemed non-canonical concerning historic databases that document alternate timelines for educational purposes due to the possibility of third-party alterations.

Trigger Warning: Contains Graphic Violence, Aberrant Sexual Content, Racism, Homophobia, and Brief Strong Language

Every God has demanded a sacrifice for the purpose of showcasing the loyalty and willpower of their followers in order to appease the community of deities. One of the most notable examples is Abraham offering his son Isaac to what many believed to be the God of the Israelites. He, in fact, was not and the story continues to be whitewashed. The diety in question was Goolup, better known as “The God of Cannibals” and he had commanded Abraham to feast upon Isaac during a ritual. Mundïus interrupted the ceremony because the death of Isaac would interfere with his plans and in exchange for the young man’s life, gave Goolup a universe that he could torment as his own. This vile and chaotic and disorderly world would be labeled Earth-V.

Throughout the 1960s, Lynchburg, Virginia was commonly referred to as the “Negro Suburbanite’s Promised Land” as the city’s population of petty bourgeoisie consisted of primarily upper-middle-class African-Americans and ‘non-coloreds’ were rumored to have been hunted for sport or hung before an “All-Black-Jury” would reach the verdict of “not guilty” if a case was taken to court. The city’s own detectives would bribe the coroner to rule murders as a suicide, once clues were convincingly staged. Violent mobs, angry rioters, and opportunistic supremacists from the outside were contended with through the use of well-placed snipers holding M40 rifles covering dressed-up macheted wielding African warriors of the Chop Yu Tribe that had assimilated into corporate culture. As stated in historical documents, they were deputized by city officials to assist in averting massacres.

In return for the tribe’s protection, “devil’s skin” or the white man’s meat was provided by a slaughterhouse ran by a former warlord, given to them to be cooked into a delicacy among their people, and prepared at ceremonies. There would soon become a growing demand in wealthy circles, and the criminal underworld capitalized on the hankering for this taboo food that was more expensive to acquire than buying a house in the average ghetto. Anonymous reports began to spread slowly but surely throughout the country and the government announced that they had started investigating, however, nothing significant would be disclosed to the public, heavily suggesting that there were daunting levels of corruption prevalent in elected offices.

The panic that ensued delayed the passage of the Civil Rights Act of 1964, which abolished racial segregation, and chaos increased until the assassination of Martin Luther King Jr., who was long thought to have been “guiding the white race into jaws of beasts by encouraging blind unification” as white pastors would put it. While the most prominent social activist’s death would quell extreme acts of hatred between ethnic groups, miscegenation remained seriously discouraged and those convicted of being in an interracial marriage were sentenced to death. The most notable example of this was the 1966 case ‘Oyeniyi v. Virginia’, which saw Christina and Kennedy Oyeniyi’s execution in a gas chamber. This white Scottish-American woman and Ghanian man, respectively, left behind a bright brown-eyed, curly redheaded daughter with freckles that they named April Oyeniyi, who her Aunt Trisha strictly raised as a Muslim prior to the legal guardian became bedridden with late-stage multiple sclerosis.

No longer under the surveillance of an overprotective religious parent, April Oyeniyi spent her early teen years in the ’70s famously photographed as a free-spirited tomboy with a pixie cut, in a shoulderless turtleneck, plaid jeans, boots, and a Funtunfunefu Denkyemfunefu Adinkra necklace that symbolized diversity, which was a gift from her uncle, who had a notably successful career as a surgeon. Outside of family, she mostly kept to herself and had no friends as she attended a private school where she was the only student of color, often harassed by fellow classmates for being mistaken as a male in her uniform or mockingly called an “ugly mongrel”. April shared her mother’s skin complexion and her father’s facial features, so although she “passed”, people familiar with her parents knew that she wasn’t exotically caucasian. Had it not been for Aunt Trisha’s various bribes, April may very well have been ignored by local police officers when she was attacked by bigoted citizens and deranged stalkers that fetishized her.

At sixteen, April finally found a friend in an ostracized football player known as ‘Duke’ who had come out to her as gay in confidence, and they spent a fair amount of time bonding with each other over their love of skateboarding after classes. The pair would not last long, however, as the two were unknowingly coerced into being locked in a closet together for a game of “Seven Minutes in Heaven” at a midnight Halloween party. Duke, who was dressed as his favorite television star ‘Coyote Punk’, did not recognize April, wearing their team’s football uniform with a helmet on. Both of them were under the influence of alcohol and weed brownies, but Duke was more than just aggressive, assuming April was one of his teammates that he had a crush on, due to hallucinating. April voluntarily pulled down her own pants, faced the opposite direction, and persuaded Duke to make the next move. Duke then pulled down the zipper of his light-brown cargo pants and released his flaccid penis through the fly.

“I need you inside of me.” April moaned.

Duke recognized her voice and took a step back.

“April? What the fuck?!” Duke responded.

“Time’s up!” someone yelled from outside of the closet, right before the door swung open. The sight of Duke’s exposed pecker was met with laughs from young partygoers who some jokingly brought up his presumed inability to perform and spouted the typical homophobic jeers. An emotionally devastated Duke quickly fixed himself up, fled the house to walk the streets in shame, and subsequently several blocks down, was chatted up by a Haitian-American man in his mid-twenties, driving a Chrysler New Yorker Brougham whose full identity was Liam “Baby Boy” Francois. He had microlocs, a sweater vest over a purple long-sleeve silk t-shirt, and metal-framed tea shade glasses with smoke lenses on his youthful face. Liam owned the popular gay fetish club ‘Swinging Kings’ and this distinct establishment was touted for its rare inclusivity in Virginia.

“I would love for you to bestow upon me the honor of being my mate for the night.” Liam flirted with Duke.

Duke informed him that he was underage and couldn’t legally drink alcohol yet as his feet came to a halt on the sidewalk to contemplate accepting Liam’s offer. Liam slowed his car to a stop, unlocked the passenger door of his vehicle before gently opening it, and patted the bottom of the side’s seat three times.

“What happens behind closed doors is your business, love.”

Duke decided that if he was going to be scolded by his parents for arriving home past his curfew, he might as enjoy the remaining hours available up to the sunrise, and nervously got inside of Liam’s car for an exciting mystery to come.

Two weeks later, Robert ‘Duke’ Schillinger was reported missing and an emergency 72-hour lockdown was ordered with no success in finding the teenager or any valuable leads. His family and April were distraught. To add salt to the latter’s wounds, her mother passed away while she was locked up in a regional jail for trespassing on private property and graffiti vandalism. Judge Malcolm King, who presided over her case, felt sympathetic toward her personal situation and granted probation if she helped the police gain evidence in an operation as a confidential informant. April Oyeniyi reluctantly agreed with Judge Malcolm King’s probation conditions and was paired with undercover police officer Francine Wright, who had been working as a secretary to Liam “Baby Boy” Francois for three years. Officer Wright had never been able to get close to busting a secret invitation-only “dinner” hosted by the man himself.

With the help of applying light makeup, dying her hair blonde, designer clothing, and luxury high heels, April Oyeniyi was able to pose as an international model that Officer Wright would introduce to Liam as at his club ‘Swinging Kings’ to be paired with clients into ethnic-based domination known as “Race Play”. The first and only man that April was requested to entertain shocked her when she discovered that he was one of her teachers, Mr. Keysle, a five-foot-nine-foot tall and muscular African-American bodybuilder who had retired to teach coding as a career change. In an emerald-lit V.I.P.-exclusive dungeon, he was positioned on his elbows and knees, suspended from the ground on a piece of bondage furniture with his wrists and ankles bound in powder-coated steel cuffs with nylon straps on its leather pads, securing them tightly. Mr. Keysle’s neck was kept firmly in place by a steel collar attached to a pole on the bench, making sure his head stayed lifted. A VHS camcorder was set up nearby to record everything that occurred between the two.

Mr. Keysle had a kink for being aggressively dominated and anally penetrated by caucasian females through modern buck-breaking fantasy scenes. These sessions usually involved being flogged, pegged, cock and ball torture, being muzzled wearing a chrome metal wolf-head shaped chastity cage that tightly caged his prick, only allowed to make grunting noises or growls like a beast. Mr. Keysle’s perversions disgusted April and she looked the other way to avoid seeing his lubed anus as she stood next to a cart of sex toys and put on a red strap-on dildo. She mentally eased herself into the role of a plantation owner’s wife punishing her husband’s mandingo fighter in a fleshed-out scenario where slavery never ended and grabbed Mr. Keysle’s hips before pushing the plastic five-inch pole hanging from her waist inside of his puckered hole. Its girth opened up the man’s shaved keister and poked his prostate after being driven into intensely by a nauseous teenager who wished for it to be over, yet remembered what she was instructed to do.

April fucked her teacher like a narcissistic male rapist punishing an escapee while spewing atrocious epithets such as “mudskinned porch monkey” and “‘gaitor bait coon” with a southern accent that disguised her natural tone of voice.

“I’m sorry, my pure-blooded goddess!” Mr. Keysle repeated loudly.

April placed her lips near Mr. Keysle’s right ear and whispered into it “You’re not a nigger, but you are a sissy, Mr. Keysle.”

This level of humiliation, bewilderment, and inevitable revelation cause Mr. Keysle to spray his clear white seed onto the black harbor freight puzzle floor mat after one final thrust from April. Her teacher grappled with a wave of emasculation, confusion, and rage, realizing that he was sodomized by an underaged female-of-color who studies under him. April walked out of the playroom holding a tape that documented their encounter, leaving the disgraced educator with a gaping asshole and tears as he begged her not to “say anything to anyone” or he would be ruined.

April and Officer Wright’s original plan was to blackmail Mr. Keysle and compel him to disclose details about the next secret invitation-only “dinner”, but unfortunately, Mr. Keysle complained to Liam “Baby Boy” Francois regarding his experience, referring to her as a “communist brat” who lacked a sense of identity. Liam had a background check done on the alias that April Oyeniyi went by on the passport that Officer Wright gave her, Abigail Goodin, and subsequently spiraled into an out-of-control manic episode once learning that there were no results in the club’s computer data files. Liam knew that first, he had to deal with Officer Wright and sent over a young miscreant by the name of Guus L. Makuto IV to covertly deliver a message in the form of a bloody pig’s head being left inside of her bed as she slept one night.

Officer Wright’s department extended their 24/7 police protection services to her now that any cover that she had previously established was undeniably blown and they needed a witness alive that could possibly testify against Liam, who was arranging for April to be served as a special platter for a company picnic on ‘Kellita’, a superyacht that solely his shareholders, comprised of different ethnic groups of Africa were privileged to be a part of. They each wore illustrious garments that represented their respective countries and spoke English as a desired global language to communicate with one another. These savage capitalists grew anxious and irrationally impatient as their hunger for human flesh could not be satiated by the buffet’s breakfast options.

Instead of April immediately going through the entire process of being made into a dish, she was drugged with a low dose of scopolamine, stripped naked, bathed, and laid out on a table for the shareholders to eat sushi off of. A Japanese practice that’s known as nyotaimori, minus the kidnapping, anesthesia, and anthropophagy.

To all but one of these shareholders, April looked like another white girl, even without her makeup on. That particular shareholder was her uncle, Obi Oyeniyi, who noticed skin damage from tan lines on her chest from the Adinkra necklace that he had gifted his niece long ago.

“Are the appetizers not to your liking, my good sir?” Liam “Baby Boy” Francois smugly said as he walked over behind the seat of Obi Oyeniyi, picked up a scrimp on April’s shaved pubic region, and offered it to him.

Obi was repulsed, covered his mouth, and turns his head.

“I’m just a bit seasick, is all, Liam,” Obi replied as he stood up from his seat. “Will you please point me in the direction to the facilities?”

“Nonsense, I’ll take you there myself!” Liam exclaimed as he led the way to the bathroom.

Obi Oyeniyi knew that if he did not act, his niece would possibly be molested and surely be eaten by his colleagues. There was no means by which he could contact anyone outside of the superyacht and no weapons were allowed on it, so his only chance to save April was to take over or bring down the power vessel. After stopping short of walking into a seemingly empty bathroom, Obi took out the fountain pen clipped between the buttons of his dress shirt, jabbed it into Liam’s carotid artery multiple times, dragged him into a stall as blood gushed from his neck’s wound, and drowned the host in an unflushed toilet. Obi proceeded to steal a set of keys from Liam, rushed down the nearest hall, opened a glass display case on the wall, and grabbed the fire axe from it before hastily backtracking to the shareholders’ lunch.

What ensued was a ruthless onslaught of butchering mostly defenseless old men. Some of them tried to protect themselves with kitchen knives, but Obi had the knowledge of precision on his side and knew exactly where to hack for killing blows or easily dismembering bodies like cutting through butter. Obi was slow in age, so he could not dodge every attack and was ferociously sliced a handful of times, but managed to take the blows he needed to in order to counter with devastating swings. April’s unconscious body was drenched in so much blood and intestines poured onto the table that she lay on. Liam’s two trusted guards responded to the sounds of the carnage that they heard, saw that the shareholders were grossly obliterated, and frighteningly vacated the area, giving Obi a chance to wake up his niece.

The blaring of fire alarms gradually awakened April Oyeniyi half an hour later and they could smell nearby smoke. Liam’s two trusted guards, Preacher, and Pope, may have been cowards but they remembered the contingency plan that their boss laid out in the case of his untimely demise. The superyacht ‘Kellita’ was to go up in flames and both rescue boats were taken by the small staff along with Liam’s two trusted guards. Obi placed lifted April off the table, placed her across his shoulders, and carried her up to the gunwale of the superyacht as the blaze broke out further.

“Do you remember when you were a little girl…and I taught you how to swim by pushing you into the deep end of the pool because you were afraid of embarrassing yourself in front of the other kids?” Obi asked April as he sat her down.

April was groggy and nodded her head as she struggled to piece together what was occurring at the moment.

“You’re going to need to swim for as many miles as it takes, ayanfe, and I won’t be joining you this time.”

“Why?” April asked.

“I must atone for my sins and hope there’s a chance that I can get it right in the next life.” Obi remorsefully answered April as he wiped the blood covering her face with his pocket square.

April stood up and looked down at the ocean.

“The cold temperature will wake you up and the goddess Yemaya will guide your travel,” Obi told April as he pushed her off of the ledge and into the ocean.

April survived the three-hundred-foot jump and swam away in the freezing water while Obi waved goodbye to her as he “went down with the ship”.

It’s roughly estimated that it took April Oyeniyi five miles to swim back to shore, where she collapsed due to hypothermia and was eventually rescued thanks to bystanders calling an ambulance. A rape kit was processed at a hospital and luckily no DNA or signs of sexual assault was found. Other than some psychological trauma, a urinary tract infection, and bruising, April was expected to recover from the deranged events that had transpired.

Without suspects to place in custody for detectives to interrogate or any tangible evidence from the superyacht ‘Kellita’s wreckage to support their claims, she and Officer Francine Wright were given new identities as potential witnesses that could be called to the stand if need be. This catastrophically publicized ordeal disrupted the chain of lucrative black markets servicing affluent cannibal patrons and enthusiasts, thus leading to a scarcity of them, caused by plummeting profits. “The God of Cannibals” Goolup became saddened by the temporary decrease in pandemonium and contemplated releasing a contagious psychosomatic disease to create the deadliest pandemic that no universe’s world has dealt with.

According to Goolup’s submitted blueprints to the Divine Council that authorize or decline the incorporation of external forces, his goal would have been to transform Earth-V into a post-apocalyptic wasteland through a leaked synthetic virus originating from a subterranean North Korean bio-lab that develops noxious substances for chemical warfare. They were rejected on the grounds that the threshold of cruelty would be raised past an unmeasurable degree of karma and overcrowd ‘kuzimu’, a relatively calm “hell” assigned to rehabilitate the dead of universes as abominable as Goolup’s.

Unimpeded by Goolup’s unhinged governance, thanks to constantly rejected proposals, Earth-V managed to substantially correct its apathetic nature and align the planet’s path with the conventional Earths of alternate universes. The celestial status that this depraved diety held predictably lowered to a point where he was unanimously excommunicated and lost the credentials that are required to access tools capable of altering the planes of his universe. Goolup became a laughingstock and vowed vengeance on his fellow Gods, especially Mundïus, who he considers partially responsible for being blacklisted.

Mundïus denied Goolup’s assertions of acting duplicitously in a satirical press release titled “Welcome to the Cookout” and claimed that his former associate’s failed attempt at ruling an infinitesimal branch of reality was the fault of not remaining circumspect in critical phases of its buildout. To add insult to injury, Mundïus announced his acquisition of Earth-V and showcased an exaggerated illustration of an attractive African-American mother wearing nothing but a Black floral apron on, in a stunningly lavish kitchen, holding a cleaver, while smiling devilishly at a small caucasian child behind her.

Needless to say, the sly provocateur Mundïus had no fear of momentous retaliation.