The Calamitous Prayer of the Damnable Jon Hammster

Mother.

Hear me now.

Hear me as I sit in the dank emptiness of my toxic sanctuary.

You must hear many prayers. Prayers for prosperity, health, happiness and love. The prayers of the weak!

But Jon Hammster needs not such things! I have but one wish: that humanity – all of humanity – sleep forever in icy death. May their suffering be legendary among the primates; may their charred remains, frozen in their fearful death-throes like a new Pompeii, serve as a warning to all those thumbed demons that threaten to walk in Man’s murderous footsteps.

I am Jon Hammster, and I am the manifestation of the rage of the downtrodden and the weak; we cannot forgive; we can only destroy. And you, dear Mother, will facilitate the devastation I seek to wreak upon these vile primates. Die, humans, die!

Stoke-On-Trent! Dunsinane Circus! Bella Vista! My past victims died begging! And now, I pray you, guide my mighty weapons to my next target:

Guide my next nuclear missile to North Korea! And, by Beshekee’s holy fist, let the survivors blame the West!

May Man fight their nuclear war! And may they leave but a scant few victims to me: Jon Hammster!

I will smile as I launch the next few missiles at the human population hubs!

May all men die.

3 comments

  1. J.K. Reply

    Do you think if we cut open Casey’s head there would be a tiny hamster controlling him like a Casey robot, with tiny little hamster controls and a hamster pin-up calendar hanging on the inside of his temple?

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