Kneel Before the Priest

Chapter 1: Humble Beginnings

The day.

July. 26th, to be exact. The beginning of Summer. A woman, no older than her late 30s, walks through a small suburbian house. A one level. Single garage with a station wagon, painted an ugly green with fake wood plastered to the side. The woman is Mrs. Sparkler. She has light purple hair, draped down none farther than her shoulder blades. She plucks a record from a wood cabinet. Setting down a glass containing a (probably) inexpensive wine, and a book, she puts the record on a Ronco Record Mate. Sitting down, the record gently scratches as she awaits the smooth tones.

Suddenly, by chance, a machine gun guitar explodes through the speakers. Caustic heavy metal assaults Mrs. Sparkler's senses. Extremely startled, she jumps, storming over to the record player and promptly removing the LP.

It's Judas Priest!

Shaken, she wildly flips the record over and over.

It reads: "Judas Priest: Hell Bent For Leather: Side One." Mrs. Sparkler's blood boils as she reads it.

"Judas Priest! Gah!"

Meanwhile...

In a two-story house, among others that are of uninspired architecture, spindly trees, and two car garages, a faint amber light glows from the basement windows. Shadows frantically dart back and forth. Over the crickets, we hear caustic, muffled heavy metal. Scratchy, high-pitched human screeching. What's the cause, one might ask. In the basement of the home, it's five teenage girls to blame. Band practice!

The basement is simply an inner sanctum of heavy metal worship; posters of album covers are plastered on the fake wood walls, along with multiple dents and holes. The carpet (was) a tan color, but seems to have been stained, burned, and even broken off in some places. This is the cause of five teenage girls. Well, girls that act like guys.

On vocals, we have Sally Summers. Egotistical, rude, and hair colored like a fresh tray of bacon, strains her voice on a microphone. She's supposedly the brains of this operation, but seeing the others, that doesn't really mean much. On the bass guitar is Tamara Sparkler, whose mother we just encountered. Under the 80s look and all that hairspray, she's actually got an IQ above 50. The deep, though off-key, notes ripple through the room. On rhythm guitars, Trixie LaVerne and Rachel Rocket. Mimicking Judas Priest's twin lead guitars, they're very far from the likes of K.K Downing and Glenn Tipton. And the last of the bunch, Christina Peretti, bashes on her drums like a god damn psychopath. The bass drum pulsates like a spastic beating heart, bearing the words "Twin Turbos." The classic tune screeches to a halt, as they relish in a false victory.

"Thank you, Cleveland! You've been an awesome crowd!" Sally exclaims as they settle. Behind her, Trixie jokingly steals Tammy's bass.

"Give it back, Trixie!" Just then, the argument is split up by Christina bounding between them, smiling brightly. "That was SOOO fun!"

In anticipation, Sally speaks, "Just one more day of school to get through, girls, then we're seeing them. Live!" The lot cheer unenthusiastically. For five more minutes they relish in their endeavours, as headlights swing through the window like a spotlight. Trixie jumps onto an unmade bed and looks through after the lights have cut out.

"Uh oh." She says worriedly. "Who is it?" Trixie replies, "It's Tam's mom!" Outside, the ugly station wagon from before sits there, a steaming Mrs. Sparkler bounds from it. Sally immediately throws a "British Steel" towel over a TV tray cluttered with alcohol. Tamara is wildly spraying Febreeze everywhere, Trixie and Rachel make the bed, and Christina is kicking everything in a hiding place. Just as Tamara's mother knocked on the window, looking like a crazed, underlit psycho. "Tamara! Tamara, you get out here this instant!" The quintet looks up like wide-eyed angels. Tamara weakly waves. "Hi Mom..." "Get up here NOW!!" Her mother screeched like someone lit a fire under her. She quickly throws her bass in it's case and sprints up the stairs.

The front door opens. Tamara is standing rock solid still, with a nervous smile. Trixie, Sally, Christina, and Rachel all stay a safe distance behind her in the foyer. "What's going on?" She asked innocently. Mrs. Sparkler grabbed her daughter by the ear and waved the Hell Bent for Leather record in her face. "The devil's body count, that's what's going on! Judas Priest is utterly unholy!" She hauls Tamara across the lawn, by the ear. The four remaining girls look on in sympathetic embarassment. Mrs. Sparkler stuffs the record in the trash can by the curb and throws Tammy into the front seat, peeling away.

"Tammy has yet to do an overnight with us." Sally said, imperatively. "I had a nightmare something like this would happen. I hope she doesn't get grounded again. If she misses Ian Hill's solo, I don't know what she'll do." Christina and Rachel looked at her with a funny look. "Trixie, stop trying to jinx shit. Don't worry gals, nobody's missing that concert tomorrow night."