Peter Caira, A Herbad’s Account of Watertown

Peter Caira, a former priest within our church’s ranks. He established our branch out in MA, it was up and running about three months before we actually planned preforming a public ritual in Salem. Now Peter was new to the public side of Satanism, working with the media, so we had to do the contact work with his local media stations. Which was an annoyance for me personally, as a Mobed should have the balls to contact his own media, but it was done in our normal fashion. Moving into our trip, by bus, which was an endeavor in itself. Cramped conditions, along with annoying assholes, and long wait times. Adam and myself are detached from normal society, so being down in the shit of humanity on the bus was a double pronged venture.

Now Peter, before this point, had made himself out to be on his own i.e.; having his own place, his own car, and money to float us, so that our money would be spent on us and the trip. Not buying his drinks and paying for his food. When we finally got out of the cab we realized that Peter still lived with mommy and daddy, a Joke in it’s self, as Peter was nearing thirty years of age. He did not have a car, nor any kind of money. We then proceeded to listen to him saying we could borrow daddy’s work truck in the morning. Saying quote, “My dad won’t let us borrow his truck today.” We then proceeded to walk a mile with all of our bags, because he didn’t want his parents to know we came to their house. We then went to the hotel that Adam had specifically rented, almost exactly between Salem and Watertown, dropped our shit off at the room and we then went out to eat. On our money.

Peter constantly was bumming cigarettes from me and after the second day I stopped buying them, I can go without, apparently he cannot. After dinner we went back to the room where I enjoyed one of my favorite types of cigars, by enjoyed I mean that it wasn’t shared with Peter. While smoking Peter was trying to lay moves on a random fat girl in the office door, we got reprimanded for smoking, which he blamed on me, and we had to again move all of our shit back to the room. Next was Drinks, Adam and myself didn’t drink but maybe once a week at the time, but damn it after a trip like that we needed one!! Peter took us all over the place, trying to confuse us and get us lost, untill we finally ended up at a bar he supposedly knew. We had a good time drinking and joking around and honestly it was one of the good points of the trip.. Untill Peter actually got drunk. When he got hammered he began “picking” on me, moving into yelling at me. Bringing me down and actually accusing me of being a spy from another organization, saying that I. Adam’s understudy, was our weak point.

Demanding to return to the room with us, a two bed-room, I interjected as to where he was going to sleep. He said and I quote, “I sure as hell can’t fuck Adam, so I’ll bunk with you.” Make sure when I quote him, read it in that stupid-ass New England accent. I was pissed and tired, when he began talking about fucking me in my ass. Rape was a constant topic with Peter; “lets rape her, I’m going to rape you, I’m going to beat him and rape his asshole.” It never stopped, it was fucked up. A joke is one thing but constantly!? That night, I slept with my knife. Peter told us that he hadn’t slept right in about two weeks, Adam said he thought Peter was high on something, and at one point Peter actually asked me for money to buy a crack rock.
Peter, “I could really go for some Crack.” I laughed. Peter, “No seriously, I want some Crack. Give me thirty bucks.” I was raised in a house of Heroin and Hard Drug use is a bad point with me. I harshly told him no, but I did not bring this to Adam’s attention untill Peter was gone, otherwise Adam would have beat his ass on the spot.

Next was our trip to Salem, to fuck with the locals, in the style of Devil Worshipers. This was to ruffle feathers and to specifically set up our event and scope a spot, because Peter didn’t have the “time.” We went to their city hall and they sent us over to the Salem Police because there is no need for a permit on a small event like ours. Peter refused to enter the police department and stood outside in the shadows. This was the first time we heard about his active warrants, apparently Peter had surprised a C.O.P. and bit the C.O.P. in the face. They took our information and the Event was on! We got a bite in Salem, an expensive fucking bite, even after Peter put a pubic hair in his food. We then went to meet Peter’s parents, who where actually a breath of normalcy from Peter’s ignorant insanity and constant rape profanity. His father was having problems with cancer in his lungs and his mother looked as though she was suffering from terrible nightmares. Feeling his house out again Adam and myself knew something spiritually wasn’t right.

In Peter’s bedroom there was a skull, I refused to enter it, but Adam didn’t share my feelings and inspected the room. Little did I know how intimate we would become with the room, namely the alter itself. On his bathroom sink was a Michael W. Ford Book, specifically on possession, self possession. Adam told me that the skull seemed to be covered in blood, a Luciferian ideal. Peter’s parents where a complete different type of people, an old school air and actually had respect. We had a pow-wow and spoke of the and I quote, “The Retard Pope,” from Peter’s own mouth. Adam and I then returned to the room alone, because Peter refused to come over and sleep again. Maybe it was the knee I threw in his back, as he wouldn’t stop his loud and awkward fucking snoring!

The beginning of our third day, the last day with Peter, as we stayed a total of five days. Today was the day we where to turn in the rental car and pick up Peter’s dads work truck, off to pick up the annoyance first thing.. well after our free breakfast of course. When we arrived Peter was stressed out, he knew that this day was when we bought the Ritual supplies i.e.; hammer, nails, the base, robes, and cross pieces. When asked of the work truck he dodged the question and seriously pushed that we get the car another day. Adam asked him bluntly, “Are we ever going to use the fucking truck!?” Peter sullenly replied with a no. As it seems Peter doesn’t like to be called out on his bullshit. Peter’s parents actually felt bad about us spending so much money on the trip and when they found out about Peter’s lies they where in complete shock.

When giving directions Peter was a complete idiot, we where forced to use the GPS on my phone to navigate the entire trip. Peter’s parents tried to compensate us by way of free meal coupons to a fancy Mexican restaurant, after this we where to visit the Pope. Alas Peter had different plans. While eating Peter proceeded to call Jess’s phone and begin screaming about make believe threats on his mother’s life, supposedly the Pope’s fake profile threatened to come to his house while Peter was out and kill her. This was all his own fabricated bullshit, all while he was downing margaritas and big one’s at that. Expecting us to flip the bill for them, as the dinner certificates didn’t cover alcohol. Adam received a phone call from Kelsey about one of his daughters and had to step out near the end of our meal, Peter tried once to use the certificates and then followed Adam out. Leaving me to pay for the bill, I said fuck that noise and kicked bricks. After a successful dine and ditch, and Peter fucking up our visit to the Stupid-Ass Pope, we then listened as Peter’s mental capabilities began to decline. He began to explain how one has to believe their own lies for others to believe in them, and how we should still visit the Pope. Knowing full well that the Pope knew I was in town. So that if we did visit him I would’ve been the one to catch charges. Peter would say, “Jeremy, who the fuck is he!? Nobody!” I am Jeremy Motherfucking Melvin stupid-ass, remember the name.

At some point Peter got it into his head that he needed to report the death threat to his local authorities, always an idiotic plan when grounded on nothing with active warrants. He led us to a local dive bar so that he could “think.” Instead he began picking fights and slamming beers. There was free Pizza, which was a plus for any fat guy. After we settled all the disputes Peter then stepped up to Adam’s face and wanted to fight him, saying “Just stab me in the throat and get it over with!!”, both Adam and I told him he didn’t want it. Adam would’ve torn the poor idiot apart and we would’ve left him. Out of respect of his parents we went through with Peter’s plan, in his broken mental state, jail was the best place for him. We went to the C.O.P. shop and spoke to an officer about what we’ve been going through with the stupid ass Pope, he told us with internet laws there wasn’t much the law could do untill it caught up with the modern times. Peter was taken aside and booked, as we left we contacted his mother and father. Telling them that he turned himself in and that the Death Threat was fake. We returned to the room confused and angry, but happy that the nuisance of Peter was gone. Maybe now we could enjoy our vacation in peace, but alas we had one thing left to do.

The next morning we contacted Peter’s parents and asked them if we could speak to them about Peter’s spiritual practices, how it was effecting their family and household. His mother and father didn’t get out of work until later in the day, so we where actually able to enjoy the sights of the city Salem. Without Peter’s constant bullshit we had a decent time visiting the various shops and historic spots. We enjoyed a light lunch and met up with his parents around four in the afternoon. The energy of their house was completely different than when we had first entered, what was at first a knotted ball of anger had unraveled and was nearly a chaotic mess. Adam gathered up Peter’s books pertaining to possession and began to explain to his parents how dangerous the rituals where upon the human psyche. We learned how Peter was diagnosed with PTSD, from a confrontation with a gangbanger and a gun. Now I’ve been on the bad sides of one of the worst cities, I have seen my fare share of shit but PTSD? Really?

Dastur Adam has already explained the what and how of Peter’s bedroom but I’ll explain shortly. We found bloody sigils, along with tools and vials for collecting said blood. Talismans covered in his own shit. Said scull was covered, from tip to chin, in blood and semen and shit. For what reason I still don’t fucking know. Much of what Peter did made me sick, not physically but at the audacity of him actually doing these things! Gladly we hadn’t found any mutilated animals, as is Luciferian custom, although he wasn’t far form the act. Below is the link from Dastur Adam’s blog for further detail of the Alter and it’s dismantling. Not something I ever wish to do again.

Trip to Watertown

In summary MA sucks, I mean it fucking sucks. The people are stupid as hell, and their children are even worse. Salem is a Joke, with psychics and commercialized store fronts on every corner. It is a trip I doubt I’ll ever have again, unless I have the correct incentive, but that holds true for any state.

4 thoughts on “Peter Caira, A Herbad’s Account of Watertown

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