The Advent

The Advent was a time in my life when I became a detective for the Lord. My mission was to lead light into torture chambers dotted around the town and beyond. By merely acknowledging their existence, favour and fortune would be brought to their occupants. It all started one winter’s evening after a dodgy lasagne and four cans of mild.

I started following some familiar graffiti. It led me all around the town, and I live in a very large town. It was on the walls, on bus stops, on phone boxes, everywhere. Everywhere I explored, down every snickel and ginnel, I could not escape this graffiti. I felt like Columbo being led astray, knee-deep in cryptic clues, down every side street in Dark Alley District. I ended up in some very scary places, in the heart of the wilderness, and still I saw this graffiti. I was also following clues in litter, mainly involving McDonalds paper cup lids and straws. They led me around the mulberry tree.

I was also hot on the heels of my clone. My clone was a mega powerful evildoer who’d stolen my likeness. He had a factory full of TVs (torture victims), being processed on production lines like tins of tuna. Locating and walking past that factory on a bleak Sunday morning was non-rational and sorcerous. I felt like I was in a horror movie dream-state. I felt like I was in one of Eli Roth’s Hostel movies, about to get dragged into one any second and be pain-inflicted for all of eternity. It was all very real to me. I was hearing screams and yells of terror and anguish every time I turned around. That’s part of my psychosis; my psychosis had obviously followed me out into the streets and into the wild.

We’re not talking about a poxy shed, with someone tied-up in it. We’re talking mega office blocks and multi-storey car parks and industrial buildings, full of thousands and thousands. I did seek out the solitary sheds, though. I found them so far as Blackpool, wandering beaches in the middle of the night. The strangest thing was, I wasn’t even drinking alcohol to keep me going; I was wired on pure adrenaline and curiosity. Pandora’s Box was wide-wide open. It’s very difficult to translate. Words do not do the experience justice.

I was knocking on stranger’s houses at all hours of the day in distant areas and accusing them of having people in their basement. All I had to do was let the victims know that I had perceived them, and God would do the rest and get them out of there by uplifting their souls to Heaven or something. I was also finding a lot of pipes in the floor around the place, which I believed were breathing apparatus for underground TVs. There was virtually a pipe in everybody’s garden. I used to whisper down them.

During this weird and wonderfully oddball outlandish mission, I was planet hopping to Lizard and Insectile realms. I was very surely convinced at certain times that I was surrounded by shape-shifting lizards. This lasted for weeks and weeks, when I was running on sheer wit’s-end survival power. My fear was outdone by the curiosity. I simply had to know the scope and breadth of the darkness in this universe. At one point a saw a truckload of beautiful semi-invisible people walking off a lorry in the distance along the horizon – some of the people I was saving. It made all the trepidation worthwhile.

Of course the U.S government were involved, mixed up with many other voices in my head. They were telling me what to study and analyse – mainly television aerials on rooftops for some reason. And all the time I was getting my head shot at with invisible tic-tacs (ultrasonic pellets), which were dulling my senses constantly and making me numb to everything I was perceiving. Not to mention the head transplant. Did I not mention the head transplant?

Before all this happened, I perceived an invisible Chinese medic performing a brain transplant on me in my bedroom. He took mine out because it had been pelleted to destruction and gave me the brain of an oriental criminal instead. This is what made me super-psychic with all the clues. You couldn’t make it up could you?

I stayed clean for nine months during The Advent, my record. How I abstained from drugs and porno for so long is perplexing to me. I was staying out for days at a time, and time was erratically unaccountable. It was midnight in the afternoon, and morning at midnight. The day would pass in but a breath, and all I’d been doing was walking around looking at graffiti, litter and pipes. Very surreal indeed, to say the least.