The rain did not motivate me to leave my

The rain did not motivate me to leave my warm, cozy bed on this bleak morning. Suddenly, I heard a noise that made me jump to my feet...

It was the 8 track playing that song by Kris Kross. I jumped out of bed, put on my clothes (backwards) and started to do my favorite thing, teaching my pet iguana, Whiskers, to

dance. Iguana's are actually horrible dancers, but the challenge makes it fun. I was so proud the day Whiskers mastered Vanilla Ice's ninja rap, you'd think he was a turtle.

No one appreciated my reptile dancing parties. No one human that is. I had no real friends. So I joined a church. It turned out to be the church of satan.

There was a reptilian choir I joined at the Church of Satan. This week we're performing "Snake Eyes & Sissies" and are being directed by Marilyn Manson. I sing soprano.

I used to sing baritone, but a fix to the nuts pitched my vocals right up there. Being satanists, we confirm & resent the existence of a Jewish/Christian/Islam god. We bake cookies

and feed them to goats. We sacrifice the goats, we make goat cookies and eat them ourselves. It's convoluted, but Satan told us this was the way. As good, or rather, bad satanists

we had to kneel to Satan's every whim, even during his Martha Stewart phases. "Now he wants us to make cornucopias out of bones of the damned, yeesh." The cookies were to die for

, literally. The second you took a bite out of one of the baked bads your immortal soul was run through the industrial sized shredder in Ted's office up on the third floor. Damn.