chapter 7 - The Birth of a (Very Stupid) Religion

Jayden stared at the crowd gathered outside his apartment. At least fifty people in homemade robes—some made from actual bath towels—knelt on the sidewalk, chanting.

*"Freakus Maximus! Freakus Maximus!"*

Simon poked his head out the window, narrowly avoiding getting hit by a thrown thong. "I believe they're worshipping you now."

Jayden scrolled through his phone, where a viral video showed him standing atop a sleeping dragon, delivering the knockout punchline: *"Why did the dragon fail math? Because it couldn't even!"* The beast had literally facepalmed itself unconscious.

**[New Title Earned: Dad Joke Dragonborn]**

**[Cult Membership: 53 and rising]**

The Admin groaned from the couch, where it was mainlining espresso. "This is why we have heresy laws."

The cult's doctrine came together with frightening speed:

1. **The Ketchup Gospels** - A manifesto scrawled in ketchup on Denny's napkins, containing such wisdom as:

- *"Blessed are the messy, for they shall find the good snacks"*

- *"Turn the other cheek... then hit them with a surprise karaoke solo"*

2. **Sacred Symbol** - A karaoke mic duct-taped to a frying pan, now mounted above Jayden's door like some demented coat of arms.

3. **Holy Rituals** - Including the "Sacrament of Spicy Mayo" and the ceremonial throwing of crumpled beer cans at sunset.

Beatrice, ever literal, took notes. "Should we... *smite* the non-believers?"

"No!" Jayden said, then reconsidered. "Well, maybe just lightly toast them."

The cult's inaugural mission was noble, if bizarre:

*"Free the Dungeon Bosses!"*

Their first target was **Gor'gath the Consumer**, a Balrog working the graveyard shift at the downtown lava dungeon.

The fiery demon blinked as Jayden's followers stormed in with picket signs:

*"END EXPLOITATION!"*

*"LIVING WAGE FOR LAVA DWELLERS!"*

*"HEALTHCARE INCLUDES BURN TREATMENT!"*

Gor'gath scratched his head with a claw. "I... actually would like dental?"

**[Freakish Act Detected: Labor Movement]**

**[Gor'gath the Consumer has unionized]**

By day's end:

- The Balrog got a 401(k) and weekends off

- The dungeon installed a break room with a Slurpee machine

- The System quietly updated its HR policies

Back at HQ (Jayden's now-crowded apartment), theological debates raged:

The **Mayonnaise Faction** insisted condiment-based salvation required creaminess.

The **Sriracha Purists** preached about the cleansing fire of hot sauce.

Things came to a head when someone threw a communion waffle.

Jayden, hiding in the fridge, turned to the Admin. "This is your fault."

The Admin, now stress-eating communion chips, muttered, "I hope you're happy."

Outside, the cult chanted:

*"SHOW US THE WAY, O FREAKY ONE!"*

Jayden sighed, grabbed a ketchup bottle, and prepared to lead his people.