There is a special room in a house of which I know. A room that cannot be found by any person that is looking for it. The fact that it's existence is temporal doesn't mean that it is any less real, but suggests that reality isn't nearly as all-encompassing as it's reputation suggests. I look at reality as the least creative part of the depression induced chronic hallucination I live in. That doesn't say much for my credibility, but as usual I can't really see the point in caring about that either. Miracle of life my *** .

As a general rule, letting oneself be frightened by something is bad form, and should be avoided at all costs. These costs may include your family, friends, sanity, and sanctuary. Those lucky enough to truly free themselves from the restrictions placed upon them by the completely logical and grounded fears present in their lives live in hells of their own creation with no possible escape. But that doesn't really mean that they can't have a bit of fun on Friday nights. Sanity my *** .

Liquor was invented by monks searching for a way to deeply consummate their relationship with whatever God they happened to believe in. The project was a complete success. Bachus was probably the most popular God of the day for good reason. I wish I could give you some sort of insightful reason not to drink, but drinking liquor is probably the only perfectly natural escape from the confines millinia of mental inbreeding has forged in you. Sorry buddy, but your life is a sham.

I'm pretty sure that people should only have one of the five senses delegated to them at birth. A program like this would probably solve every problem that people could cause for themselves. Or it could cause a new breed of incredibly specialized weaponry. Either way, the insects eventually get the planet. Enjoy it while it lasts boys.

I think humans were originally burrowers. I refuse to elaborate.

Anyway, back to that room. Those who manage to stumble upon it don't really see it as anything but a room at first, but if they chance to look around them, they'll notice that there is only one door in the room, and they'll also notice that it is the single creepiest thing they've ever witnessed. Those that don't immediately urinate down their leg will wonder how they got into a room with only one door that they've never before seen, but this query will be instantly forgotten in the maelstrom of terror that begins to fill the minds of humans when they see the aforementioned door.

You might be wondering what specific qualities make this particular door so obviously terrifying. Predictably, I'm not going to tell you, but I will tell you what would happen if I did. As your eyes scrolled from left to right, you would notice that the sentence you are reading isn't a sentence at all, but a hodgepodge of letters forming not words, but emotional triggers. This alone might cause you to sink into confusion, but as you skim over the actual letters themselves, your stomach will explode. The force of this explosion will cause your liver to panic and begin to flee in terror from the bloodbath that it had just witnessed. Your lungs, seeing the liver run, begin to scream and flee as well. This process will continue until all of your major organs evacuate your body through the nearest emergency oriface. At this point, you wouldn't really care what the door looked like. That is the sort of feeling that seeing the aforementioned door evokes from most people. Interestingly enough, the only people not affected by the door are lawyers, which brings their kind a mite higher in my estimation.

Noone gets out of that room alive, but for the sake of experimentation, lets just say that I did, and let's go out on a limb and assume that after going through that door, I escaped what I found on the other side and wrote a book about it. Isn't imagination fun?

I'm pretty sure that imagination was the very first weapon developed by humanity, predating rocks and sharpened sticks. The military aspects of a hightened imagination are vastly underrated, considering that imagination can be manipulated to strike at any behavior controlling nerve in the body. imagination is capable of rendering a person paralyzed with fear, reckless with bravado, and apathetic with a euphoric sense of passiveness. Some could make an argument for imagination being a part of human cognisense, but I believe that it was bred into us as a means of control, but later forgotten in favor of more physically impressive weapons. This entire paragraph is wrong.

Some have steadfastly maintained that the human being is a social animal. This is not only incorrect, it is absurdly foolish. Humanity was the cattle of the prehistoric day. We had evolved just enough to be able to run away from EVERY other animal at the point when some freakin meteor fell and screwed it all up. Those humans possessing the weaker qualities of the species, such as terror at all change and a tendency to burrow into impossibly deep hidey-holes at the slightest whiff of danger survived the cataclysm. Lacking any natural predators, these worthless mammalian fodder died in droves because they were too stupid to eat. Eventually, by pure chance, several of these early humans ran into each other and immediately started burrowing. Eventually, they intersected each other's holes and began to assist each other in their digging. They soon realized that holes could be dug much faster in this fashion...soon, all of these human beings were digging in a single hole...too stupid to realize that they weren't fleeing anything anymore. Exhaustion set in, and a storm began outside. The hole began filling, and the humans fled. Lightning struck, branch caught fire...blah blah blah welcome to civilization. Oh to be a monkey.



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Knighted with a salami...and then it got really silly.