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Summary
There's ants in his brain. Hundreds, thousands. Millions of them. An entire hive making a home out of fatty folds ripe with flesh and popping neurons, a parade of hammers that seem to push at the back of his eyes, itching for freedom.
Before Blake and Lynn, and the birth of the supposed Anti-Christ, Temple Gate had already been begat with Satan's vile seed that sewed doubt in the Lord's might and punished the villagers' mortal bodies.
Or, the Radio Towers Murkoff put up around Temple Gate put off intense radiation. Here is a villager getting his brain figuratively fried as he clings to the lies of Papa Knoth.
