All About The Third Leg

Right, Butt-ugly and his three legs ... did that thought disturb you as much as me? Let's just say his third leg is more of a weapon of mass punishment than something used to walk on, a tool forged in the depths of Sodom before God smote it with His fires of wrath. It still feels as hot as hell, believe me ... but I'm shaking as I type so I'm going to ignore this initiation into the life of Purgatory and have promised myself that I'll never speak of the three-legged sodomising motherfucker again in derogatory terms ... to his butt-ugly face, anyway.

On to more current matters ... as you may have figured out by now, Purgatory is exactly what those goddam Mary-worshipping Catholics said it is ... the last chance for the half-pure to mend their ways and make their way back to Heaven where the fortunate few who managed to serve Jesus like good Christians should are singing 'Kumbaya My Lord'. I'm still pretty sure some little fucker of an angel messed up my papers and sent me to the wrong place, but when I finally make my way back to the Holy of holies I'll track down that feathered bastard and make sure the blessed Lord kicks his white-robed ass all the way into the Lake of Fire where he belongs.

The Three-Legged Beast has just popped his head into my cell to inform me that I am to be seated on the bus in less than five minutes ... unless I would like another intimate admonition from his third leg, I think I better end this post and get my bruised ass onto the bus. I hear from the Purgatory forums that the bus trip involves those of us who made it part of our misguided mission to teach kids that Halloween is the devil's birthday ... with the help of a paintball or three. I had no idea there were other paintball militia in this place, so the bus ride should be fun.

Say your prayers ... and make sure you put in a good word for me. I'm innocent and will be vindicated. But if I have to get kicked up the ass by that third leg again because you didn't pray hard enough, I really don't know if I'll be such a friendly chap when I finally get out of here!

Pete Meets Butt-ugly

So Manson's demonic twin was apparently not interested in the new guy in the house (me) but some other poor bastard who whimpered his way through the entire unfortunate episode I'd rather not speak more about, just in case it ends up being me next on the naughty list. I'll just say this – I have a funny feeling it's Jerry Falwell, because at one point I did hear him screaming something about not being able to help his homophobic fascination with the pink Telly Tubby.

Instead of Manson, my Personal Purgatory Guide paid me a visit. Apparently in this nearly-hell hole, departed souls who are being purged of their half-evil ways are given a spirit guide of sorts – I have given a thought to the wretched who have descended lower than me into Satan's foul dungeon of the damned. I just can't bear to think what devil guides they get when the elevator door opens into the inferno of Satan's inner bowels, if this is what we get in Middle-Hell.

My guide, who I will henceforth refer to as The Ugliest Motherfucker Ever to Have Walked on Three Legs, or Butt-ugly for short, at least had the decency to knock before he entered. He asked me if I was comfortable, to which I replied something along the lines of, "I know people in high places and I was a paintball warrior for Jesus once so there's been a horrible mess up with the afterlife paperwork so get me the fucking hell out of this place before I call the Big Guy on my cellphone, you ugly sonofabitch!"

That was not the cleverest thing I've ever done since shooting those kids with paintballs on Halloween.

I'll let you know how that all went down in my next post.

Please, please, I don't care if you're a goddam Catholic and pray to Mary and other demons, just put in a good word for me and get me the hell out of here!