Many of you probably wonder what it’s like to be me, even if none of you ask. Too shy, right? Aw, that’s sweetly retarded. At any rate, to ease your minds regarding what makes me so me, I’ve decided to give you a glimpse. Let down the normal “Pure Lard” shell of lies, poor syntax, and stupidity masked as humor and let it all hang out -- let the real me out there for you readers, literally all eight of you, to see. Or read. But, after reading, to then see. In your mind’s eye. Not that there’s literally an eye in your brain. It’s metaphorical. I don’t have time to get into it right now.
Typically I begin each day with a healthy glass of puppy blood. It’s how I stay so youthful looking, even at my advanced age of eighty-seven, at least by your earth years. Don’t worry; it’ll all make sense never.
Okay, I’ll give it a shot, and this is oddly appropriate being the month of Halloween and all. See, Earth exists on a plane of existence called “Dipshit Alpha.” I was born here, like you, but at the young age of six, I was abducted to another plane known as “Real Scary” to be raised by terrifying demons. It wasn’t all bad. Sure, the nightly bone canings and hellfire baths weren’t fun, but they gave me character. Character which, I like to think, makes me a better harbinger of the end times where demons will run free in your realm from which I was once stolen due to my childlike child’s love of chocolate. (Longer story.)
Anyway, after my morning puppy blood, I go to a regular job, just like most of you. (Those of you without a sugar momma, anyway.) I put in my nine-ish hours everyday, and, shoot, it’s a living. I have some swell co-workers, none of whom know I’ve looked out over the abyss to SEE the ninth level of Hell and that it’s like Disneyland to me. They all just treat me like the corn fed 29-year-old lummox from America’s heartland I appear to be. And I like it.
This is as good a time as any to stress that, though I was raised as a hell spawned demon from another dimension, I am not truly one of them. Oh sure, I can wield powers as terrible as they are unimaginable, but that’s nurture, not nature. Some kids learned to play baseball or rap growing up; I learned the ancient arts of the Dark One in hopes that I’d play my integral part in the destruction of this earthly place to make way for the Winged Crackbeasts of Stratos. We’re not so different, you and I. I’ve just been taught supreme evil and exist solely to destroy all you know and hold dear. If it weren’t me, it’d be someone else.
Bitch of it is, I do like some things about my plane of birth. Burritos. No burritos in the Demon Realm of Real Scary. That’s, like, one of the worst parts. Maybe the worst part. That and the daily demon ass rape when I was a kid. Supposedly it was to “toughen up” my anus so I could get a nice tail grafted there and start shitting out of my mouth like all the other demons. Didn’t work as well as Uncle Hekzarg the Damned claimed to have planned, however, and now I fear taking a number two. Wiping still smarts. So. Um…
Oh! Stuff I like about your humanly realm. Well, though I’ve often felt unlucky in it, love is pretty cool. I mean, all kinds. Like, my biological family loved the empty human shaped husk the demons put on this earth to impersonate me while I was away being taught to be the perfect scout of evil. And after I returned to play my part in the eventual carnage of demon versus man, incinerating that shell that thought it was a real person to take its place, they just keep loving me, too. None the wiser, sure, but that love’s for real. Also the love of friendship. I had no friends being raised by demons. I mean, Gwildor the Vile was always good for a laugh, but we never got close. He was always trying to swallow my soul or sully my flesh with his terrible wings. Everyone has terrible wings there… except me. Always the odd man out. Oh, and then there’s the romantical love that exists on the human world between a straight man and a straight woman or a gay man and a gay man or a lesbian woman and a lesbian woman or a bisexual man and a straight woman or a straight man and a bisexual woman or a bisexual man and a bisexual woman or a bisexual man and a bisexual man or a bisexual woman and a bisexual woman or a gay man and a bisexual man or a lesbian woman and a bisexual woman. That type of pure, lovely goodness doesn’t exist in Hell realms, obviously. It’s all about the violent taking and ruining of flesh. Not as sweet.
Where was I? Oh, my real daily life. Well… other than work, I guess I like drinking. Trying to cut back on the beer, though. Too many carbs.
And that’s the real D.J.
