As we all know Alvis is a great man, one who has shown many people the way. From His first follower Davey, to His final dissenter Holbytat. He showed us the way through righteous consumption of whiskey and other alcoholic beverages, although whiskey was foremost. His joy spread to other activities such as revenge, for if you wrong Him, He shall note it down in His book of vengeance, and strike down upon the defiler a most terrible fate, smiting his punk stupidity. Among other things Alvis partook in were cards, and other games of chance. It was wrong to interrupt things such as this, or anything for that matter, interruption of coupling, feasting, or any other activity was a faux pas (that’s French.)
The story of Holbytat takes place in the latter and final years of Alvis’ great life. For we know that the Romans killed Alvis, although at the first encounter they failed horribly; as was stated in the Book of Charlie. The Romans, with their Caesars and twig thingies were wicked people, and they wished to destroy Alvis once and for all, they turned one of His followers. For Alvis spoke of brotherhood, and peace while ‘sober to tipsy before revenge’ He like all other able men, put chicks before dicks. And one evening he was playing cards with other followers, a fair young broad heavy in heat had caught His attention- her name was Rhonda. After winning the pot and other people’s money, He bought whiskey for everyone. In celebration, they all pulled out their six shooters and fired into the night sky, because shooting in the bar would’ve been dangerous. Rhonda and Alvis later coupled, and had used lamb skin (latex wasn’t invented yet), since syphilis was in the air. Although, Alvis prefers it raw because it feels better.
Holbytat, horrible at cards, and worst at six shooters was only interested in revenge. He also was too meek to drink whiskey, so he drank wine coolers instead. Alvis looked past those transgressions, because He is Alvis, and will smote those bitches who cross Him. Now, seeing Alvis win at cards, and then go off with that jezebel Rhonda, Holbytat was depressed and lonely. An undercover Roman spy saw his opportunity. Promising Holbytat all the wine coolers and people to claim vengeance upon that he wanted, the Roman spy convinced Holbytat to help kill Alvis. As the killer of Alvis, he would be the most feared man in the land, and he could eat souls and stuff cause he’s so bad. The plan was simple, find a pathetic fool, but not himself to wrong both he and Alvis, then get revenge, and celebrate with ‘special’ (poisoned) whiskey. It was simple enough that a boob like Holbytat couldn’t mess it up.
Later, in the mid afternoon, following up on morning coupling and lunch, Alvis told His followers, the Dude, that Guy, yo Man, Holbytat, Rhonda, amongst others, that He felt something bad brewing in the air, that one of His followers would betray Him. Shocked and appalled they all said it wasn’t going to be him (or her ;-).) And they all went there separate ways to get revenge on people who have wronged them and to go drink more, possibly coupling, and some games of chance. While walking Alvis and Holbytat bumped into some Cthonics, they were accosting a fellow Kreb. Now, being simple people, Alvis and Holbytat joined in on the ass kicking because that Kreb owed them money, and called Delia a floozy. Alvis wouldn’t stand for that, and Holbytat was just bitter because he couldn’t drink whiskey.
The Cthonics looked up and saw Alvis and then spat on Him, because He was a Kreb. Now this is just indignent. Alvis, because He was sober to tipsy said, “I will not shoot ye in the fricking face because I want some more whiskey, instead apologize and pay tribute to Me of cash that is good for whiskey.”
The Cthonics laughed at him, and said He should be a Shekra, because He is too soft to be a Kreb, they thought Alvis was b-a-d bad man or something like that. Right then and there Holybtat pulled out his 6 shooter and shot that jerk right in the fricking neck, because he missed his face. Then another Cthonic pulled out his gun and before he had it fully out the holster Alvis shot him, his mother, and the rest of the Cthonics right in their fricking faces. Six bullets, seven heads exploded. This occurred because two of them were standing one in front of the other and the bullet left the first guys head, and went right into the face of the other. Holybtat was so happy he peed himself; he shot and killed a man. He told Alvis they should go to the saloon and wash up before drinking.
Alvis was somewhat curious why Holybtat would invite him back to the saloon to his room to bathe before drinking; they had dicks, they weren’t chicks. But Alvis in all of the adrenaline said ok. Secretly, Holybtat had that ‘special’ bottle of whiskey in his room waiting for Alvis.
Back in the room, the two men had drawn baths and imbibed many a drink. Holybtat poured Alvis the poisoned whiskey, and drank wine coolers, because he was a puss. Slowly through the night, as they lay soaking in their tubs, enjoying the vengeance that they had just administered, Alvis became woozy, more so than the usual drunk. He slipped under the water, and Holybtat beamed with glee on the inside. Waiting until He was dead, Holybtat feigned having passed out himself, ran out of the room with a pink towel around his waist and proclaimed Alvis has passed under the water and to the other side.
Some accused Holybtat of wrong doing, but others gave him a pardon, because he was a puss and couldn’t muster to take on Alvis himself. Later on, after the witch doctors checked out Alvis, they found out he was poisoned, and did not die of drowning while intoxicated in the bath tub. A mob was formed, and they went to Italy, to get that bastard Holybtat, and burn Rome to the ground. And Alvians have had a fabled and wonderful history since. Through the teachings of Davey, and those others that followed Alvis, they spread his word, with Him in mind, and He looked down upon us from the sky, up at us from the ground, and followed us from all around. He is glorious, He is Alvis. Let us partake in the whiskey bourbon and rye until we are fighting drunk, and claiming vengeance in his good name.
As uncovered and transcirbed by Saint Alfred deRugby