To every man is given the key to the gates

To every man is given the key to the gates of heaven; the same key opens the gates of hell. I didn't know this one I turned the key. I was just curious what I would find when I

opened the antiquated but innocent-looking tin of sardines that my uncle Martin of the late Chelmsworth, England, had bequeathed to me. I had glanced at his notes, but was eager to

a strange vision of purple fish swimming around the room. I tried to read the note Uncle Martin had written but it appeared to turn into shimmering gold dust in my hands. I vomited

great swirls of pearls. The purple fish ate them and were then eaten by great shimmering squid. My vision started to fade.. Uncle Martin's note said: Go to the cemetery at midnight

to make the trade off. Uncle Martin had strange passion for nudey-girl pens and keyboard neck ties. The cemetery seemed like the logical place.

Peace and quiet, with only the company of nightingales and the deceased. He stared down at the ember of his cigarette, a countenance of disgust and interest upon his face.

And then, slowly, he ate it. A twinge of pain momentarily erased the expression of disgust, as the burning tip carved a cauterized groove across his tongue, but then it was back. A

glow permeated his body quickly illuminating the trees around him. Staring at him were three large snake-like eyes. The nauseating smell was undescribably bearable. He fainted and

lied there, in the middle of the forest. There was no hope for him ever to leave or survive.