The world has ended
Shortly after the Large Hadron Collider was activated on September 10, a black hole gulped down the entire multiverse like a morning cup of freshly brewed Arabica.
However, Gordon the Garden Gnome spake everything back into existence some 15 minutes later – complete with memories and historical records – before positioning itself in the south western corner of my humble garden, near the fish pond mind, turning itself into a plaster likeness of its former glory.
Always trust in some god, somewhere, to rescue our sorry asses.
The plaster likeness already seeps blood from a head wound, where the cap of the electric chair burned him when he was executed for our sins – in the Yoonited States – ealier today.
Be he is risen! Is Gordon. (And is now plaster.)
This is the first epistle of a book I am dedicating to Gordon. A book inspired by Gordon… he speaks to me in gypsum fumes. And only to me! And beware the doos* who rejects Gordon’s message. This time round thou shalt be drowned forever. In one moerse** fish pond. With nasty little flesh eating fish like thingies in it.
Gordon wants praise for his creative, or, rather, re-creative work. And for saving your ass. Say what? Save from what? From sin! So worship him. Or be drowned. Know what it feels like to drown? Now imagine drowning f-o-r-e-v-e-r. Yeah. Right. Start praying. Now!
* Doos. (Afrikaans – Female genitalia) “You are such a doos.” This means you are a complete idiot. (Surfrikan slang)
** Moerse. (Afrikaans) Large, big, humungous.