Jesus drives Hammerfall - to a concert!
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Sonicland, three-hundred years before the coming of Christ.
Contrary to popular belief, Jesus was active way, way, way before the coming of Christ. You know, since he's not Jesus. Christ has nothing to do with Jesus, jungle cocks, jungle tits, Bible blitz, or anything for that matter, christ.
Christ, why can't you see the light at the end of the tunnel?
Anyway!
It is a metal concert! In Sonicland!
"Are you ready, Sonicland!?" the voice belongs to none other than Joacim Cans, singer for Hammerfall - the one true metal! Clad in a suit of the darkest of the dark iron, a chainsaw mounted in his crotch, and with a shotgun guitar, with spikes coming out of it. His chosen weapon, however, is not the guitar, no, that's merely for show - but his microphone; the most divine tool of them all. In the form of a spiked hammer, with an axe-head mounted on it, for good measure, and more studs than can be counted. "We're gonna show you what being metal's all about!"
This is when the crowd, which is rather mindless and dronelike, decides to cheer like crazy.
"For a metal heart," Oscar Dronjak, backup vocalist and lead guitarist, gets into a comfortable dragonslayer pose, his scalemail-slash-jeans 'armor' gleaming in the night, platemail pants and cast-iron tie reflecting the pale moonlight in all directions. He, too, has a chainsaw mounted in his crotch, because that's the only way to be true - metal! "is hard to tear apart!"
The cheers grow even louder, and Cans decides to grind his crotch against the stage, an act which showers the audience in sparks. One's lit on fire, but pays it no mind, since - hey! - she's in the presence of the metal kings!
Out of the darkness steps Magnus Rosén, dressed like a true metal bassplayer - instrument shaped like a sword of power. His tie's black, with yellow stripes, and made from the purest titanium. It's been scratched, so the metal shows through the universal warning-label that's yellow on black. The pants he wears aren't really pants at all - rather, they're assless chaps made from stainless Swedish steel.
He lets out a ferocious battlecry, that must not be repeated, for fear that we'll all be cursed by the metal that is true.
As the clouds part above, and the moonlight is allowed real passing, everyone's treated to a small glint of Anders Johansson, safely contained behind his trusty drums - sticks replaced by spiked, iron maces. Drums covered in yellow-black duct-tape, and fitted with bolts, studs, spikes, and gold - lots of gold.
He shows zero skin, and the abuse of bolts, studs, spikes, and gold - lots of gold, are repeated on his steel outfit.
Stefan Elmgren, proudest of the lot, then steps forward, belching smoke from a visor crafted from solid iron, a guitar shaped like a mighty hammer of thunder and vikings everywhere safely held in his iron-clad hands.
His crotch is different from the others, to symbolize the cleansing sound of his supreme guitar-playing. Four-barreled flamethrower, each barrel shaped like a skull, and emitting even more smoke than his visor.
"Silent screaming!" Cans kicks things off, and all four not confined behind drums grind their crotches against the stage, "you're on your own! Balancing on a blade between what's right and what is wrong!" a total of twelve fucking people catch fire, then they're ran into the ground by those behind. Everyone, excluding the band, performs twin metal-signs with their hands.
"Don't lose your faith," the drums grow intense, and people start collapsing, "don't sit there in silence! Show your strength, let's hail the metal gods. Bare your heart!" Stefan lets loose a fiery display from his crotch, while the rest of the band performs an illegally large number of dragonslayers. The entire front-seat is engulfed in purifying flames of the truest of the true metal. "All for one, our burning hearts will live forever!" as if on cue, Stefan torches another couple of fans. "One for all, together standing strong!"
Can then folds his arms across his chest, and proceeds to headbang like a true pro, while the rest of the band chants in a very monotone fashion.
"Hammerfall!" Stefan leads them. "we will prevail!" Cans grinds his saw against the stage, while maintaining his constant headbanging. "Hammerfall! Let us hail!"
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From this story, we learn that religion is not a substitute for being true. Even if he wanted to, Jesus could not teach you the fine arts of being either metal or true.
It's a man-thing, so don't expect to get it if you don't have a dick. Suffice to say that it involves: roadies, guitars, fist-fights, leather, spikes, studs, bolts, flames, beer, beards, shaved heads, angry faces, dire screams, banshee-like wails, blackness, darkness, epicness, tits, moshing, bare-chested men, bare-chested women, drums, lyrics, angry shouts, tinnitus, more tinnitus, bass, and tiny pieces of plastic.
Go with god - rather, the gods of metal! The metal gods! Manowar! Forget Jesus.
Hail! All hail! Hail and kill!
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VT2 - 2006