Debauchery waits for no man!

 It was Saturday night, and the friars of the cult of Ahh had just finished their unholy sacrament. It had been a great success, as evidenced by the pool of blood in the center of the floor, encircled by an ungodly number of lit candles. The friars were in great spirits as they walked away towards their dorms, looking forward to their evening of blood painting and sacrificial table dancing. All except one: brother Anzu. Brother Anzu was a man of order; he was the type of person to iron the pages of his grimoire, and was known to make his bed so tightly that you could bounce a demon’s horn off of it. Instead of making his way to an evening of debauchery, he was bent over, blowing each candle out one by one. He looked at his fellow friars in disbelief.

“Umm, hello??” he said, his voice raspy with irritation. “Who’s going to help me blow out all of these candles?”

He glanced from one friar to the next, palms facing up questioningly, eyebrows raised. “No one? Nobody? There are literally six-hundred and sixty six candles, guys. Six-hundred. Sixty-six. Fucking. Candles.”

One friar shrugged apologetically, another said “Debauchery waits for no man!” as he scurried out of the hall while pulling off his friar dress.

Brother Anzu sighed dramatically and grumbled to himself. “You have got to be kidding me.” He blew out another dozen candles and paused to catch his breath.

“GUYS!” he cried plaintively as he fell to his knees and began wheezing, “I have ASTHMA!”

Soon he was alone, and room echoed with the lone sound of his labored breath.

“Lord,” he said as he got up and he peered towards the dark altar, “forgive me.”

He grabbed one of several fire extinguishers and blasted the rest of the candles.