On the far left, the Orion's belt looking

On the far left, the Orion's belt looking three spots partially obscured by clouds are, from the top: South Bend, Fort Wayne (where I was born) in Indiana, and Lima, Ohio. It's a

a pig vomit of a small town. Something like a cancer-ridden whaler hawking putrid phlegm into a bucket of fish guts. Ah, that is my lovely hometown, Lima, Ohio. You know you've

Reached the limit of sanity when the cell walls become rainbow coloured. The mitochondria float at night. The paramecia do that too at night.

It seems I float at night as well. My sanity had fallen away like a bug's husk & I went with it. I dissolved in the blood stream fusing my consciousness with another consciousness.

Fighting my way out of a brittle shell, I was reborn as... CICADA MAN! Using my raspy voice as a weapon, I was able to fight crimes against insects by busting human earlobes like

tapioca pearls. Unfortunately, my becoming Cicada Man correlated with a greatly reduced life span. The setting sun provoked a circadian foreboding of my impending death.

The time had arrived for Cicada Man to come out of the darkness; after seventeen years underground, seventeen years of tranquility, my tapioca pearls had turned final plateau black

. He needed to come up with a catchy jingle. "Cicada Man, Cicada Man, I sleep a lot, but when I wake up I do things". Solid. Now for some buzzwords.

"CHITTER CHITTER CHITTER!" All nearby windows shattered along with certain bones in a few passerby. Well, he didn't expect that. Cicada man fled the scene, fearing lawsuits.

Eventually Cicada Man and his destruction were forgotten. 17 years later he re-emerged, this time to practice goodness. Then some ignorant slob killed him with a giant flyswatter.