“Awe, you know, sometimes, God says ‘you gotta give it that ‘Hawk Tuah’ and spit on Jesus’ thang,’” said Haley Welch to a roaring crowd of 30,000 in a renovated Wal-Mart SuperCenter in Dallas, Texas. “And other times, he says, ‘You need to donate your life savings to me and your musical guest for the evening, Kid Rock!’”

The geriatric rocker takes the stage as baskets are passed around the crowd, and people empty their wallets into the wicker.

“Yes, that’s right, babies,” Hawk Tuah shouts over the 1999 hit ‘Bawitdaba.’ “The more you give, the more your kingdom will come!” Shaking her titties as the room roars. 

Thirty minutes pass, and the baskets are still being passed around. The crowd’s confusion grows as Rock performs Bawitdaba with as much passion and energy as he did initially. Hawk Tuah watches on as she sits pleased on a throne of gold.

An hour and forty-five minutes later, Bawitdaba is on its forty-fifth playthrough. Kid Rock performs even harder than before, though his face is visibly pained for all to see on the screens around the church. Churchgoers continue to empty their belongings into the baskets being passed around the room as tears roll down their cheering faces. The room is still electric with an existential undertone. 

Finally, Hawk Tuah rose from her seat to address the audience, “This is all part of His plan,” she said. “Do you feel it? Do you feel the Lord’s love growing?”

People begin to squirm and cross their legs. Their faces twisted in a display of mounting ecstasy. 

In the chaos, one man from the audience struggles to the aisle and crawls to the stage where she stands. 

“What the fuck is going on,” she screams as her face contorts in pain and pleasure. “What are you doing to us?”

Displeased, Hawk Tuah narrows her gaze on the man crawling toward her. 

Now, desperate to get people’s attention, he fights through his involuntary cheers to scream, “Everybody, she’s fucking taking us for all we’re worth! Snap out of it!” Turning toward Hawk Tuah on stage, the two make eye contact. Making one last attempt to get someone’s attention, he tugs at the arm of the older woman closest to him. Her limb falls off effortlessly without a reaction from the woman as she sprays blood all over the man on the ground.

“They can hear you, but they won’t respond,” she says, looking down at him. “I will say congratulations for fighting my curse. You’re only one of a handful to do so these last 8,000 years. But unfortunately, you will die like the rest of them.”

“Fuck you,” he screams in a final act of desperation. “You fucking demon!” 

Rolling her eyes at the man, she turns back to the crowd.

“Come on, I know you still have more left to give,” she commands. “The Lord needs you to give everything you can!”

As the crowd begins to remove what little items they have left on them, with Kid Rock even removing his belongings as he screams Bawitdaba from the fetal position on the stage, Tuah moves from the stage to behind her throne, where a 50-caliber sniper rifle waits. 

 “That’s it,” she said. “You’re so close to salvation!” she says, aiming at the crawler, placing him in her sight before taking the shot, removing her head from her body. Blood sprays others as they continue to remove their clothes. They whimper through the forced cheers.

Placing the gun down at her side, she then begins to screech at the crowd, producing sound waves so strong they can be physically seen in the air. These waves destroy pews, crumble building infrastructure, and dismount the statue of Hawk Tuah on the cross, sending it crashing to the ground. Their vibrations cause the churchgoers to climax in unison, their souls rising from their bodies as they drool all over their Sunday best. 

Hawk Tuah then sheds her skin, revealing her proper form as her back splits. Through a mucus covering, her insect-like thorax and eight legs emerge, now replacing her human legs. 

Overlooking a sea of lifeless bodies and their souls suspended in the air, she twists her hands in front of her open mouth.

“Sometimes,” her voice booms throughout the building, reverberating in an echo that blows back her hair. “You have to give them that ‘Hawk Tuah!’” 

Continuing to motion, she inhales the suspended souls, collecting them from their owner and growing more substantial and prominent with each one. 

Standing in a now lifeless room, she crawls up the wall of the Walmart, biting a hole through the ceiling and crawling through it. Standing on the roof, she calls her agent, “Hey, I  just left Dallas. The church service went great! I’ll see you in a few hours at the Jason Aldean concert in Cumming, Georgia!”

“Perfect,” the voice on the other side of the phone says. “I’ll make sure they’re drunk and fat the way you like them, my Queen. Then it’s on to Nashville.”