The following description is from the harrowing tale of Joan Wilder. She spoke to the Squib from a safe location after many years in hiding. The stories have been corroborated by other ceremonial staff present at the birthing of George W Bush. Be warned some of the descriptions may upset some readers.
The birthing chamber described by Mrs Wilder is a dark dungeon beneath the Bush residence and amongst all the ceremonial paraphernalia and remnants of past sacrificial offerings there is a central platform jutting out from the stone floor. The dark and moist walls are decorated with scribblings from the Sumerian script Cuneiform and speak of ancient scriptures long lost in the sands of time.
Before the birthing, we prepare the ground for the brood mother by sacrificing a pot bellied pig on the altar, then drinking the blood.
We invoke Moloch, then the birthing begins:
Barbara Bush straddles the altar and utters a blood curdling banshee scream, the windows judder in unison to this unholy vibration. She lifts her dress exposing her undergarments, their antiquated design of the last century yellow with fluid, easing them down under her hairy varicose veined knees she exhales a gut-blasting fart so almighty that a waft of methane clouds the windows, the noxious fumes’ heavy particles hang like rain clouds over Nebraska in the winter. Her puckering anus erupts further as her eyes roll back in her head exposing only the whites. Out of her over-stretched balloon knot the beastly chuff’s head emerges as her frothing rabid mouth recites ancient incantations at speed. A guttural nonsense low in tone and reminiscent of an animal’s – she exhales.
We assist the brood mother by whipping her body with chains until the final grunt.
The evil joy is unceremoniously ejected from her puckered arse with an audible popping sound and then a further gaseous fart release. A champagne cork of effluent is released and bubbles cohesively. A wry smile now appears over her brooding face and she coos with delight at the sight of her unholy sh*t covered spawn as it gnashes its sharp teeth.
“I shall name him George Walker…”
The brood mother is satisfied and proceeds to lick her offspring clean with her hairy rasping tongue. George will be presented to the rest of the brood later on in the evening and the sacrificial celebrations will begin in earnest.
Joan Wilder’s tell-all book “Confessions of a Satanic Priestess” will be published in August by Macmillan