During a morning, a handsome, sleazy man with major money problems named Andrew Squervil is walking on a desolate highway, covered in bruises, having recently completed a misadventure in which he failed in his latest attempt to become rich. Instead of becoming rich, Andrew was pummeled mercilessly by a large, muscular professional wrestler named Grock. Many of Andrew’s misadventures have ended with him being pummeled mercilessly.
The pummeling from Grock occurred last night. When Andrew regained consciousness, it was morning and Grock was gone. Now Andrew is traveling back to his crummy apartment.
Later in the morning, Andrew arrives at the apartment building that he lives in. As Andrew is about to enter his apartment, he hears footsteps behind him. He hopes it isn’t his hideous, obese female landlord, who lets Andrew live in his apartment for free in exchange for being her plaything. Andrew is not in the mood to provide her with any ‘rent payments’. Andrew is never in the mood to provide her with any ‘rent payments’.
He turns around. Much to his surprise, six women are standing before him. They are all dressed in black. One of them is a stalker from his past named Sheila. He has never seen the other five women before.
“Hello, Andrew,” Sheila says.
“What are you doing here?” Andrew says, annoyed. “I thought you were confined to a sanitarium.”
“I was,” Sheila says. “But I was released. The doctors there decided I was all better.”
“Who are they?” Andrew says, referring to the other women.
“They’re friends of mine,” Sheila says. “I met them in the sanitarium. I told them all about you.”
“Why are you all here?” Andrew says.
“I came here to tell you I don’t hate you anymore, Andrew Squervil,” Sheila says. “After you got me confined to a sanitarium, my intense love for you transformed into intense hate. For a long time, I wanted to get revenge on you. And after I told my friends here about you, they very much wanted to help me get revenge on you. But then the six of us had a collective spiritual awakening. We realized that you, Andrew Squervil, are an object to worship, not hate. You were delivered to us from the gods above, and fate selected the six of us to be priestesses who are to spend the rest of our days worshipping you. We call ourselves ‘The Cult of Unfortunate Andrew’.”
“‘Unfortunate Andrew’?” Andrew says. “Why are you referring to me as ‘Unfortunate Andrew’?”
“Because it’s your destiny to be unfortunate,” Sheila says.
“Destiny’s decree,” one of the other priestesses says.
“Every time that you, Unfortunate Andrew, get pummeled mercilessly, or get imprisoned, or fail to become rich, or have an intimate encounter with a woman you don’t find attractive, I feel like the gods are communicating with me,” one of the other priestesses says.
“We all feel that way,” one of the other priestesses says.
“Your misery is our religion,” Sheila says.
“This is getting really creepy,” Andrew says. “I want all of you to stay away from me.”
“That won’t be possible, Unfortunate Andrew,” Sheila says. “We all live in this apartment building now, so you’ll be seeing all of us on a regular basis. A very regular basis.”
“Stay away from me!” Andrew says. He goes into his apartment, then slams its front door shut.
“You’re mine, Andrew Squervil,” Sheila says menacingly.
“You’re ours, Andrew Squervil,” the other priestesses say menacingly.