I have a very good reason for the delay, though.
I was captured.
Yes, there I was, minding my own business, when suddenly S.W.A.M. - Special Weapons Attack Mormons, as I was later to find out - captured me. But these were not ones working for Salt Lake, you see. These were working for the Freemasons.
Or so I thought.
Anyway, they tied me up, and brought me on a bright pink LearJet, which carried me to the Bermuda Triangle. I learned that parallel dimensions exist; we live in the "Florida" dimension. I was to go to the "San Juan" dimension.
There, I was brought before a horrible landscape - the sky was burning a bright red, winds blowing ashen clouds all around the landscape, but it was a blessed relief from what I saw on the ground- burning trees, weaping and gnashing of teeth, mothers pouring dirt and grime upon the floors, into the mouths of their grinnning skeleton babies, while reading an article in Natilopomsoc that suggested the same. They were waving to me as I passed, and the babies cooed, like the smooth melodies of Beethoven, if he were post-goth-industrial. In one house I saw, a man, naked except for a fedora, came in, clutching a bloody plastic bag. He pulled out a human head, flipped it upside down, and the gruesome family fed upon his neck stumps as if it were a trough. They wiped themselves with a bib afterwards. It reminded me of suburbia, except the houses were all made of dirty glass, dirtied by blood, sweat, tears, urine, and Mr. Clean. I learned this was the courtyard before the Castle-of-Chains, to be brought before The Flagellated King.
Then, a contraption was put over my head, not unlike a birdcage. Inside the Birdcage were two Qwerty's. To understand the Qwerty's, you must understand that every creature upon Earth is created by God, for survival and aesthetic - and even flies have a kind of sublime beauty.
Except for the duck-billed platypus. He is damned.
This creature had none of these qualities. The closest approximation can be a fly, of some sort, but with fur. Extensive razor fur, covering his eyes - the rest dripped black blood. I could tell when he blinked when the razor fur retracted.
The most horrible part about the Qwerty, was what I guessed to be its mouth. A long thin tube, not unlike a vacuum, came up, big enough for my eye. The last thing I saw was out of focus, although from the imprint it left around my eye, I could tell it was a jagged razors. Blessedly, I was shocked into unconsciousness.
I awoke to the Genocide-Ballroom. On the left and right sides of the right sides of the room, in perfect 2/4 time, cute Golden Retriever puppies were fed into grinders, as an orchestra played on, and what I guessed to be demons watched in Victorian outfits, applauded, wearing masks. One girl had her mask temporarily knocked off, because she had opted to 69 a eunuch.
Her face was beautiful, Mary Magadelene like, but the blood vessels popped, spraying in her eyes, which refused to blink. She fell down on the floor, as other eunuchs took her to the machines, to the cooing of the watchers.
Before this, I was always skeptical of claims that a single sight could drive a person mad. After all, shouldn't vice cops be madmen, then?
But upon seeing The Flagellated King and the Filth Queen, I'm grateful that I'm lucid.
The Filth King was around 8 feet tall, with seaweed rags enshrined with gold dust. She had six arms, all imitating obscene gestures of some sort - with her black marble skin, and eyes that resembled the lower parts of a women, which I will not speak of, as not to offend my readers. Her mascquara was foul feces. It had corn in it.
And the Flagellated King! It looked like a man, with a head and a body, but anything beyond that looked like something out of a really scary nightmare. The two horns coming out of the side of out its head, waving around, scarred around, never stopping. The crown (from which I could tell he was the King) was made of bones of children and little dogs and puppies. It had seven ridges, upon each was written a dirty word, "meecrob" being the most foul.
He wore a cape, made out of stapled together human flesh...of orphans! And babies! And orphaned babies! Underneath, there were skritching, scratching of a thousand unholy insects and a few holy ones...I could see the outline of a few hands, a few brave souls, trying to escape the unholy grasp of the Flagellated King. A few of them gave me the finger, and I could tell they were jerks.
His breathing, uneven and odd, came in, through lips chapped beyond all recognition. He sounded like his mouth had been cleaned with razors since he was a child, or a movie trailers dude.
He looked at me with his five pupils. He said.
"The qwerty poison is deep within you. Every part of you will be in pain, except for one - your eyes. But that's because you'll will already have gouged them out rather than see the insane delusions that the qwerty poison will unleash upon your soul! And then the really bad stuff will start!"
Leaning in, so I could see the hellfire deep within his eyes, he asked me, as no man has ever been asked, "So answer me this question, you may live on, unless you go insane! Completely batshit INSANE!"
I mouthed, "W-what?"
"DO YOU HAVE TWO DOLLARS AND FIFTY CENTS?"
I squeaked, "No."
"Oh. Okay."
He pulled back, and slapped me across the face. Everything went black.
I woke up in my room, lying prostrate on the floor, looking up at the floor. 11 days had passed.
I could tell because the S.W.A.M. had left a note.
I had a banana in my hand.
I noticed I had urinated in my pants.
