My name is Todd Skyler-Walker-James-Rypzynski-Smith, and the first thing I'm going to answer for you is the obvious question that I know has already grasped that insignificant brain of yours.
Why do you have five last names?
The answer is quite simple my friend, and it's not a subject most would like to admit to.
My mother is a dirty filthy whore.
Ask yourself how you think I feel now. When the first topic of conversation that I'm forced to discuss when meeting/greeting new people is my mother's numerous infidelities.
Although it could be worse after all, the positive factor is that each of her five previous husbands are financially well endowed.
You see, my mother was also a gold digger and master manipulator. How else could someone convince four different males that each and every single one of them was my father. They didn't care... It was just another minor deduction in their multi-billion dollar checking accounts each month. That's right. Four dads and not a single one could give the least bit of shit about me in the world, while my mother was out finding her next 'child support payment.'
Maybe that's why I'm here.
Today.
Speaking to you as my last cry for help.
Trapped inside a world of teenage peer pressure and certain death.
You watch as I lay backwards sitting on a large shag carpet filled with pink polka dots and frilly purple edges. Digging my fingertips and clenching back on the deep grooves in the carpet I can feel myself trying to get away, and yet the allure of what incredibly hot girl was cooking in the kitchen was mesmerizing.
The rest of the kids in the circle began chanting.
I think the leader noticed my itching unwillingness to the ceremony.
That may have been why he asked us all to join hands so that my bustling around on the carpet would be yielded.
When that girl finally did arrive, she brought the glowing crystals from the kitchen. The silence the room gave upon her arrival was so indefinite and immediate that the muffling of her bare feet was faintly heard. Although her giant breasts were a marvel, none of the male participants took any slight bit of focus off of the glowing crystals. My, my, my... how they shined like the light off the ocean or the gleam off a diamond.
I was addicted.
I was hooked.
There's no possible way to save me now.
The cackling and burning sounds of the fire.
The smoke.
Feels like I can inhale it forever as this floating light bulb transfers in a circle around us, somehow menacingly floating by itself.
Our faithful leader leads us around in the circle as we begin to sing and dance to a little tune that I think many of you may have heard.
♩ ♪ ♫ ♬
So la da di da di, we like to party
Dancing with Miley Molly
Doing whatever we want
This is our house
This is our rules
And we can’t stop
And we won’t stop
Can’t you see it’s we who own the night
Can’t you see it we who bout’ that life
And we can’t stop
And we won’t stop
We run things, Things don’t run we
We don't take nothing from nobody
♩ ♪ ♫ ♬
Awkward silence ensues as we all stand looking at each other wondering why we just broke out in song and dance to a horrendous Miley Cyrus song.
Smith Skyler-Rypzynski-James-Todd Walker: "HAIL SATAN!"
The screaming and chanting comes to an end as everyone falls over dead from crystal methamphetamine overdose, after what looked like a massive epileptic seizure attack.
Naturally, the leader still remains to feast on our flesh.
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