Avant garde, no?

Back in my former life as a free-wheeling funkified DJ to the masses, I would often be asked (often by the ladies): Hey, Sexy DJ, can you play something that's... you know... actually good?


Okay, so maybe none of that actually happened, but what did happen is this:

It was somewhere around June of 1997 when I realised I was being monitored in some way.

Whenever I picked up the telephone, there'd be these two weird little clicks before the dialtone/voice at the other end.

Whenever I turned off the bathroom light, the mirror would take a few microseconds longer to delluminate.

Walking around town, I would notice people looking at me, then quickly averting their eyes when I met their gaze.

But why?

Was it something I had done? But I had done nothing wrong.

Then one day, in 1999, everything became clear.

I was walking through Civic Park, in sunny Warragul, and I fell into the water.

Well, fell onto it.

As it turned out, I was the Messiah. The chosen one. The one chosen.

Chosen for what? To lead my people to the Promised Land, actually, if that's all right with you.

Being the Messiah was hard at first... Everyone was hassling me for miracles. I was all, "Back off, you leperous bastards," but the cunts just kept on coming.

It was time to take drastic un-Messiah like action to throw them off my back. So I took a pump-action shotgun and decimated a Church Youth Group.

But it didn't work. My followers praised me... they said, "Dr. Cam, they were not worthy of their depraved lives... LIVES OF A DISTINCT LACK OF EXCESS AND QUIET REFLECTION! Praise thee!"

I did not consider this to be a positive development.

And then it hit me, like a flaming white chunk of metal ripping through a drama troupe - I should consult The Bible.

I opened up my Bible, and turned to Genesis. I then read through to the Revelations.

Fascinating stuff, but no answers there, just a lot of twaddle and obscure numerical prophecies.

So I jumped off a bridge.

The End.

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