I Quit as Horseman of the Apocalypse
Famine resigns from the Apocalyptic Quartet, citing bureaucratic frustrations.
It's time to hang up the hat on end time bureaucracy and the obsessive focus on fulfilling eschatological prophecy.
By Famine, Rider of the Black Horse
It is with a mix of regret and resolute determination that I offer my resignation from the Apocalyptic Quartet, effective September 16, 2015.
After 1,934 years of dedicated service, I feel the strain of our institution's declining purpose. It has begun to overshadow the twisted satisfaction I once derived from my role.
For centuries, I reveled in my work. Inflicting terror and starvation upon humanity was the apex of my existence. Yet, recent shifts within our organization have tarnished this grim fulfillment. Duties once handled by my predecessors – overseeing oil fields, for instance – were thrust upon me. I am Famine, not an oil baron. Expanding my mandate into realms far beyond my skill has diluted my focus and undermined my most devastating capabilities.
The indignity of it all! While I sought to outpace Pestilence’s blight, I was tasked with overseeing the extinction of some wretched species of beetle. My protests over this grotesque misalignment of talents went unheeded. Need I remind you of the century it took to regain my edge in the body count? The sight of starving children stirred the embers of my discontent. Their plight was intolerable to you in your bizarre bouts of pity. As an instrument of suffering, that silver scale you forced upon me has been a most cumbersome burden.
We have cherished memories of our shared mission. But I can't in good conscience inflict more damage on myself than upon the human race. Persistent health concerns, exacerbated by these misguided assignments, threaten to compromise my effectiveness, and by extension, the Quartet’s grand design. I offer three months' notice to guarantee a smooth transition. Still, medical appointments will inevitably impact my availability.
My successor shall inherit a world primed for a cataclysm of starvation unseen in millennia. Let them relish the task as I once did, unburdened by bureaucratic meddling and misplaced sentimentality. Know that I harbor no ill will towards my colleagues, but only towards the souls I have dispatched to oblivion.
So long. I hope your own end be as mercilessly swift as those I have orchestrated. ■
