To My Former Life Partner,
I know what you are going to say. First and foremost, this is NOT a cult, Eugenia. These people are great; they don’t judge me or my homemade dialysis machine. Unlike you, you always nagged at me about the damn cat doing tricks and giving you your stupid insulin. It’s all changed Eugenia. I’m a different man. These people understand me; I cannot begin to tell you the fantastic things you can do with ketchup and the human body. They have a Chinaman here who rubs my shins with exotic oils and sings Viking love songs to me. Last night, we all traded stories about the war and shared recipes for delicious salsas. I hated being around you, if you must know. My initiation is almost finalized, I have to castrate a goat and wear its genitals as a hat for a week. No problem. After that, all I have to do is ejaculate into a jar full of bugs while reciting the words to Mr. Roboto in reverse, and then I’m golden. I practiced so many times I am prepared to get that signet ring. Next month is the Really Big Awakening. We are all taking a bus to the sun to finally destroy that star of demonkind! Don’t try and stop me Eugenia. Don’t.
Bread Squire in the Circle of the Punctual Magollimax