Greetings, people of Earth. I have been instructed to introduce myself to you. My name is Doctor Bonkersane, and up until yesterday, I was God. Allow me to explain. I place the blame for my presence here squarely at the feet of Baikinange Overkill. A little over a year ago, I made the unfortunate error of sending Madame Overkill a friend request on a social network that I was monitoring. To my great surprise, she accepted. A short time and a tall drink later, Ms. Overkill suggested that I friend one Dante Fontana, under the premise that he possessed a music library that would probably give me an unspeakable erection. Fool that I am, I capitulated. Again, to my wonderment, Mr. Fontana agreed to my request. The trap was set. I found myself entranced by the seemingly harmless lunatic rantings of the Great Fontana. From here on out, the tale becomes murky, and I can only speculate as to the true nature of my fate. My best guess is that the Demon Fontana instructed Madame Overkill to recruit me by any means possible, as her proximity to my abode was convenient. As I am not easily tempted by feminine wiles, I assume she sent one of her minions to plant a post-hypnotic suggestion in my fertile brain. As evidence of this, I present my experiences of last night: At approximately oh-dark-thirty, I logged onto my Holy Laptop to check my Prayer Groups. I noticed a message from a Mr. Dante Fontana which seemed to indicate he was looking for some kind of recruits. It was then that the hypnotic trap was sprung. This was obviously some form of secret phrase or trigger, as I suddenly found myself automatically typing a response in the affirmative. Before I completely regained my faculties, I witnessed my mouse finger clicking a strange red button where the "send" tab would normally be. Mice fell from the ceiling, and my socks caught on fire. When I came to the next morning (today), I was disturbed to find United Nations helicopters airlifting my house into the distant horizon, and a man with a pink clipboard asking me to sign for my children. To make a short story long, everything I have is gone, my children have apparently been sold to Percy Trout, and I am now forced to live in a hut made from twigs held together with a binding agent made from saliva and rabbit dung. To top it all off, I appear to have somehow signed myself into perpetual indentured servitude to Mr. Dante Fontana and the rest of his cosmic lackeys.
So, right now, I need to go to my happy place, and play with my Paper Dolls...Click on the title of this post and join me.