HOLY SHIT

Into a lashing rain, bent crooked against the wind, coat like a useless shield in the torrent of tiny spears at my face and neck and shoulders, i made my way into the darkness of a grim and sunless morning. All around me the slow entropy of traffic clogged the arteries of the city i call home, choking the already toxic life from every municipal soul, and adding oil and grit to the fetid waters that slithered around my feet, sloshing at my ankles like frigid serpents. Until i came stumbling, near-dead and clinging only to the dust that was once a heart, to the neon illuminated desk that marks the end of my world, and the beginning of the dimension called "Mail Room," a nexus of all physical communications forgotten by the shared electronic hallucination that is the Internet. No joy was within me, no trace of human emotions remained. Only a will to see what package might be ready for me. I was then handed a small envelope, dark brown like soil rich with possibility, and trimmed with words and a faint earthy orange, like mellowed rinds of fruit. Inside, as my skeletal fingers weakly pulled away the skin of this trove, i found the stickers i had ordered, from the Sticker Mule. Once again, light returned to me. And i strayed out of thought and time. I tarried in the ascension of human thought, beyond the bounds of good and evil, where every day was a long as a life age of the earth. And for so cheap a price too, really, it's too much. I've been sent back. To review this product for you. To let you know what truth and victory you bring into this realm. Do not waste it. Such power is rare to be wielded by mortals.