spencie
90% of everything in crap! Goddamn thought Spencie as he sat in his damp student bedsit listening to Metal Machine Music waft up the stairs like the lingering aftertaste of bad Speckled Hen. Hell I can do better than this. All I need are the right tools for the job. Seizing a Sisters of Mercy LP and some joss sticks Spencie set out to lure a faded goth out of his corner and sneak in to get his guitar. The plot worked like a charm and Spencie was now the proud owner of some sort of guitar.
The SMORG was born! Kicking and Screaming into the night. His guitar wailing like a siren, Spencie ran into the dark. He sang and played running through the night, leaping like a satyr and leading the youth of today into an orgy of irresponsibility.
He lead all the turned on kids of the city onto the tallest hill around and leaped up onto the castle a-top it. From this vantage point he could see the city laid out before him like a fried egg from a greasy spoon. He called to his followers and instructed them in the ways of the SMORG.
He chose three from among his disciples to travel the world with him and to announce his coming with a wailing and a gnashing of teeth. To whip the town burghers and to make merry with the nubile. To shatter the ear-drums of the old farts and to lead the youth in every debauchery.