I married one of those voodoo psycho crazy bitches down by the swamp. The kind with tattoos and a habit for smack and a dog she fed drugs to and the kind of house with torn up walls and "sounds from the neighbors." Why did I marry her? What would create a compulsion in me to want to spend the rest of my life with this ... ahem ... eccentric young lady? Well, I'm a fat, balding, white, boring, middle of the road pencil pusher, and she was my thin, insane, beautiful sex goddess with very good drugs. I put her drugs in my nose and her soul in my heart. I proposed to her the fourth month I knew her, and she gave me a ring - she gave ME a ring - which I put on my fat finger gladly.
Now I don't believe in hexes or anything, and I certainly wouldn't believe a story about one, but I need to be honest and say my woman put a hex on me. Or at least she tried to. Or more accurately, she mumbled a bunch of words and dribbled a little bit of cat's blood on my fingers when she placed the ring on my finger. It was like out of a movie. It was weird. She told me it was so that "I'd never cheat on her." I told her I never would, I'd never sleep with a woman finer, so what was the big deal. I went to the bathroom and washed the "cat's blood" off my fingers. Probably wasn't even real. Where did she get the cat?
Anyways, I'm going to tell you the crazy part of the story right now. I'm going to tell it to you knowing you won't believe me. You won't believe me because I'm high, and you won't believe me because it disrupts the laws of physics, and because I must seem like one of the least reliable people on the planet right now, but hear me out. Listen to what happened to me.
First of all, it only happens in one type of scenario. I have a hard time telling you what it is, because it's a little embarrassing. Well, when this, ahem, scenario occurs, I get a sense of enormous power. I'm talking, more powerful than being high, more powerful than an orgasm, more powerful than money or fame or anything. And the things I can do - I mean, I can lift a car. I can make an animal talk. I can swim in fire if there's a lake boiling. But as soon as I stop ... doing that embarrassing thing ... it goes away. All of it.
How did I find out? How did she do it to me, this crazy she-devil? How did I link cause and effect? Where in the universe did these disparate phenomena join?
Being fucked in the ass by a dildo, and loving it, should not turn you into a God. And if it does, be careful with what you do to the universe.