Read Online Sloughing Off the Rot by Lance Carbuncle - Free Book Online Page A

and every thing that made you repugnant, that’s all you and it’s all there in that bed with you, fouling up that hospital room. The man sitting before me now, is John. You are John. And you are the same man, but you, here and now, are not twisted and poisoned by the experiences of your other half. You are an uncarved stone that is slowly developing its own markings. Tabula rasa. This is a different place. And, you have the chance to become something better and new. The path is the way. Follow the road to the end. Stay true and don’t let your path stray.”
    “But, what am I looking for at the end that is going to be so important?”
    “At the end of the road you will encounter this man,” said the voice. And on John’s eyelids appeared the severe face of a black-haired man in mirrored sunglasses. His features tensed as he laughed and shook his head about. The thick black hair lay slicked back and clinging to his skull as if it were spray painted on. A half-grin sat uncomfortably on his face and gave way to a scowl. The image of the man grew and developed, and he stood before a congregation of cowering parishioners. He towered several feet above the tallest of his followers. His black leather pants, black shirt, and boots matched the slicked back hair. And the white of his priestly collar matched the gleam of his sharp, sneering teeth.
    John’s balls partially retracted into his abdominal cavity at the vision of the Man in Black. He clenched his teeth and tensed his eyes, trying to wipe away the vision. But the Man in Black remained. His image grew until he appeared to be twice as tall as the members of his cowering congregation. He pounded with balled fists at the podium before him and it crumbled as if it were made of sand. Even with the podium smashed to dust, he continued to pound his hands in the air before him to emphasize each word that he spat from his mouth. The congregation stared, rapt. They swayed from side to side, slowly waving their raised hands in the air, their collective arms like an anemone’s tentacles drifting in the ocean current.
    “His name is Android Lovethorn. The Right Reverend Android Lovethorn,” said the burning bush. “He holds the key to your return. He can help you return to yourself and become whole again. You must find him. But, before you do, you will travel the road. And you will decide who you are and what you are. And the man you become on your trek is the man that you will take back to yourself. The journey will make you stronger than your other half. And you can make amends for everything bad that the other you did. You can rectify the past and make a new future. Until then, though, you are split. And the man you used to be is of no consequence. So follow the road and find the Reverend Lovethorn.”
    “But he scares me,” said John. “He reeks of madness.”
    “He is mad. And evil, and hateful. And he will do everything he can to prevent you from reaching him. He sends lunkheads to slow you. He floods you with temptations from the villages you pass. He troubles your dreams. He will afflict the land with plagues and send demons to stop you. But, stay on the red brick road and follow the trail. Your travels will end at Lovethorn’s door. And you must be strong enough to make him return you to yourself.”
    “But, when do I find Lovethorn? What do I do when I find him? How do I make him return me to myself?”
    John’s words fell from his mouth and died a quiet death on the ground as the flames on the bush burnt themselves out, leaving the thorn bush green and unmarked. Rubbing his eyes and erasing the images of the Man in Black from his eyelids, John stood. He wobbled on his feet and put his hand down on something to steady himself. That something was Alf the Sacred Burro’s head. Alf liked the feel of John’s hand, so he stayed in that place and let John use him for balance. John steadied himself and walked away from the bush and the donkey in a daze. Alf convulsed