The Prophet of Deception is a man of many tastes, ranging from fine wines to mahogany commode and golden Montblanc fountain pens. Through his unsurpassable charisma and zealous devotion to none other than himself, he has forged a legacy of scams and backstabbings so great, the Pope himself would shit 15 times in The Prophet's presence. A skeptical agnostic, he views himself as a living god, higher than all other life, and yet while his financial assets are that of kings and lords, his romance life is that of a retarded goldfish with the AIDS, translation, he doesnt stand a fucking chance with a woman due to his off-the-chart smugness and arrogance.
He has a complex history filled with drama and woe, lovers few and far in between. It was during his height as Heierarch of the Band Council that he met his first love, who fucked him over and left him to die. He then reestablished himself as a god, current head of the Red Letter Forum, but love would once again come to his doorstep in the form of a promising young English Intern turned full time anchorwoman sex bombshell.
He currently resides in a palace of misery, slowly drowning in his own narcissicm, but remains hopeful that one day, he will rule EVERYTHING.
We can only pray that he does.
Prophet of Deception: "Dont worry, that happens alot." *hands him a towel*
Conny: "Yeah, he's a freaking god! Hail the Prophet of Deception and all his witty remarks!"
Prophet of Deception: "Let's all go back to my place for fine wines and wild sex on mahogany tables carved out of marble draped in velvet and golden diamonds!"