I survived a sacrificial ritual. I was gutted like a fish and stabbed by a shadow man from an ayahuasca cult. I floated down a black river into an ancient structure resembling Skeletor's lair. I got monkey pox in the '90s and I was sent to an institution where, upon my arrival, I introduced myself as one of the new therapists. I ended up working there for three to four months before I lost my medical license and I ended up back on the streets. I met with the shadow man once again but, this time, his shroud was evaporated and he was glowing brilliantly like a white wizard. He led me to an ancient tomb in the subway systems of New York City, where a celebrity cabal was taking place. I then proceeded to steal Poseidon's trident from the Navy SEALs and they'll never get it back. Nor their access to heaven. If I grow up and get my own phrase I can walk through walls. I'm gonna find an orb with God inside of it. I'm gonna eat insects and amphibians just to slow down my immune system, slowly, slowly, slowing down. Call the archdiocese. Call him right now, get him on the phone. Get him to help me on a down payment for my house. I need help. I need financial help. I need therapeutic help. I need spiritual help. I need all the help I can get, man. I need access to Heaven. I need access to Heaven or ain't none of this is gonna work out.