the caterpillar sheds its skin to find the butterfly within

Apart from the occasional bout of MAGGOTS and MICE life has just been cherry. But something has been plaguing my mind...FIVE MINUTES AFTER I DIE. The cult performed a song called 'five minutes after I die' which precautioned the members, and ourselves to never have any fun (unless fun contained child molestation/polygamy/submission). Because as we all know fun = sin, and sin = eternal damnation in hell, jamming with Hendrix in the lava and guava filled depths of Hades.

Five minutes after you die, your fucked. All that preaching about 'science' and 'evolution' aint gonna mean shit anymore. Your dead. Probably of bird flu. I mean if you don't like the effect, don't produce the cause.

Another thing that's been bothering me was an interview I read with Mickey Rourke. Mickey was describing a conversation he had with Nick Nolte on the set of a bad b-grade early 90s action film they were both working on. During the conversation, Nolte got onto the topic of the mythical 'midget town' which resides somewhere in the vast Mojave desert. 'Midget town', for those of you that don't know, is a town where only midgets live, in midget houses, eating midget food, with midget code and law governing the society. Nick told Mickey 'i've been to that town. And I fucked a midget.'

Now whenever I see a midget, whomever I'm with i'll look around and tell them 'i've been to that town'. And now, whenever I think of the cult, or go past a church I just think to myself 'five minutes after I die, i'm going to that town.'