Title: Christklok
Author: ChilombiLite
Rating: PG-13
Warning(s): Violence, Christianity
Summary: Pope John Paul III decides to create a Catholic tribute band to Dethklok.
Author's Note: Inspired by Tributeklok's *Guitar Riff *Klok, and the challenge at dethepisode. But since I can't draw…
Christklok
Pope John Paul III clicked off the television in disgust. He'd gotten back to his hotel room after leading a High Mass in Boston, the first stop on his American excursion, and had hoped to see some news coverage of his visit. Unfortunately for him, Dethklok was missing and people were committing the gravest of sins: suicide. It was enough to make any near-deity angry!
A sudden thought struck His Eminence as he replayed the report in his head: what if Catholicism had a tribute band to Dethklok? If the kids saw how "metal" God could be, maybe they'd get curious and come to a mass or two.
The pope pulled out his Jitterbug® cell phone and dialed his legal counsel. The phone rang twice. "Matthew?'
"Yes, Your Eminence. How may I help you?"
"What do you think of a Dethklok tribute band?"
"But… aren't you a little old to learn how to play electric guitar?"
"Yes, I know, thank you. I was wondering if there would be any legal repercussions that would prevent us from creating a holy alternative to that satanic racket."
Matthew explained to His Holiness that he was in luck: the tribute band ban had been lifted as of late, and that they were free to start a band. He wondered aloud how they were going to go about finding the members, to which the Pope replied, "We'll hold worldwide auditions, of course."
And so, the news spread down the power pyramid, from His Holiness to the bishops and so forth, until three minutes later, the priests of all of the churches in the world had received the email.
The auditions brought forth only the most pious of young adults, as the rest of the congregations were convinced that Christklok would not be brutal at all. Moreover, they were skeptical that any attempts at Christianizing the world through death metal would be a complete failure.
Despite Europe's almost unrivaled ability at breeding brutal metal bands, most of Christklok's members came from various cities in Texas, the state with the largest population of Catholics. And although His Eminence wanted to debut Christklok in his own Vatican City, Despite Europe's almost unrivaled ability at breeding brutal metal bands, most of Christklok's members came from various cities in Texas, the state with the largest population of Catholics. And although His Eminence wanted to debut Christklok in his own Vatican City, he ultimately decided to stay home and watch the concert on TV. That way, if the band's performance was less than heavenly, he could blame the whole idea on one of the Cardinals.
-MordHaus-
As Dethklok trudged out of the room, still poking fun at Toki for tributing Skwisgaar, Klokateer #6650 approached Charles Offdensen. "Sir..."
"You heard the boys... You know what to do," Charles dismissed the loyal underling as he pinched the bridge of his nose. Lifting the tribute band ban, but leaving the copycats to Dethklok's approval might not have been the wisest decision. Getting rid of the vetoed would mean a lot of paper work in the next couple of days.
Charles sighed. It was time for a brandy.
-Corpus Christi, TX-
Andrew slumped in the pew, his head bowed, although clearly in sleep and not in prayer. He hadn't quite fallen into his normal deep sleep, although he was nearing with every word of his priest's sermon. He'd heard the same things over and over again in his childhood, but he still came to church out of habit.
Out of the haze, he heard mention of Dethklok, and immediately jolted out of his half-slumber. "The Dethklok tribute band, Christklok, has been officially formed," Father Albrecht announced in a monotonous tone, "and will be playing a small benefit concert in the parking lot next Sunday after Mass."
Andrew had never been able to afford a ticket to one of those life-changing Dethklok concerts, so he was at least a little bit excited about being able to see something possibly close to as good. Then again, Catholics weren't known for their brutality…
Next week, Andrew found himself at the back of the "pit" area for the Christklok, staring at the stage, slack-jawed, and rendered completely unable to speak. The band had had the audacity to change the lyrics of Dethharmonic to promote philanthropy. It was just…confusing. Dethklok didn't care about poor people; they just cared about their money, metal, and brutality. In fact, all the lyrics of the song had been changed to reflect Catholic dogmas: the Holy Trinity, Scripture, The Ten Commandments, and other bullshit.
He found himself backing away from the crowd, horrified by the lyrics, but entranced by their stage attire. In full monk garb, he watched the tribute to the fastest guitar player in the world struggling to live up to the hype, while the bassist wasn't even breaking a sweat.
Andrew heard a helicopter overhead for a moment, but paid no mind to it as he continued to back away, still watching the trainwreck of a performance. And then, without warning, the lead singer exploded, showering the audience with blood and body parts. As Klokateers in a Hatredcopter rained gunfire on the small gathering, Andrew was freed from the trance Christklok had put him in. He gaped at the bloody murders of the band members. He'd seen reports of massacres at Dethklok concerts, but had never imagined that their brutality would extend to tribute bands' concerts. But at the same time, he could understand why the greatest metal band in the world might want Christklok out of the picture: their attempt at a tribute was more blasphemous than the clergy's fondness for little boys. He turned away from the continuing massacre,—the Klokateers had moved on and were shooting indiscriminately at the concertgoers who hadn't yet started running—got into his car, and drove away feeling a strange mix of horror and satisfaction. He turned on his iPod, selected Dethklok and put their discography on shuffle.