Dear reader, as I sit down to write this obit, I still cannot believe the debauchery I have witnessed this eve. A poor, young virgin, probably, icon of the fair festival we have undertaken, only minutes ago, laid upon his deathbed, while a group of Brats, of the Wurst kind, danced around in glee as he snuffed it. He appeared on stage to give blessing to the Brats, and was slaughtered in front of a cheering mob. Oh, woe are we who expected to see him appear at every stage during this and every coming festival. I feel I cannot go on … but I must, if only to warn future generations of the TINY TWAT who wrenched him from my grasp, promised to free him, and then returned him to the entrail encrusted demons on stage to be rendered, to their delight. May the giant chicken have mercy on our souls.