The meeting was held in the office of the

The meeting was held in the office of the Magistrate. Six men recalling their most recent golf game

during which they had discovered the groundskeeper, Mr. Beck, dead. He had the flag from the 13th hole protruding from between his 6th and 7th vertebrea.

The crowd of onlookers gaped as someone's ball rolled slowly into the dead man's open and bleeding mouth. "Hole in one!" Shouted a voice from afar.

It was Tiger Woods. He was drunk and armed with an Uzi. He took a swig of 151 and

put the lighter to his lips like they do in the circus. He wanted to prove to his estranged wife why they called him "Tiger." With an intense focus, he leaned back and spat a

lot when he realized he'd just caught his nose hairs and soul patch on fire. Like a typical hipster, he reacted by

arching an eyebrow and fingering one side of his oversized costume black rim glasses. Hipsters without bad vision suffered in silence. Quietly, he put his nose hair fire out with

B'chugerroth -- distilled fear walking as if alive in the realm of man and serving you coffee with two sugars while nodding agreeably to any of your pointless poisonous drivel

With that, the demon king B'chugerroth mounted his sulphurous steed Dreylandiork and ventured forth into the wastelands, never to be heard from again. In this lifetime.