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I’m a Cenobite From “Hellraiser” and I Just Found Out You’ve All Been Calling Me a Hurtful Name

For countless, immeasurable eons, we Cenobites have watched humanity and all your little joys and tiny torments. We are demons to some, angels to others. Other very existence is beyond your comprehension. We do, however, have feelings.

I just found out that you people have been calling me “Pinhead’ this whole time, and that is really hurtful to me.

That name is really rude and makes it sound like I’m an idiot who doesn’t know there’s a whole bunch of spikes sticking out of their face. I’m not an idiot. I’m a godlike being who can only be summoned by a Lament Configuration like LeMarchand’s Box and who can summon crazy-ass chains out of nowhere to rip people’s skin off while they scream from pain so intense that it can only be called the opposite of an orgasm.

Does that sound like a pinhead to you? I don’t think it does, and I don’t appreciate it.

The other day, I appeared before some dumb sex addict who choked it so many times that he now only gets it up by exploring the very depths of sensation and breaking all laws of nature.
As soon as he saw me, he was all like, “It’s Pinhead!”

At first, I didn’t know who he was talking about and looked around the room in a way that I now realize was comical and severely reduced the impact of extradimensional beings coming to torture-sex you.

It was very embarrassing.

Later, I checked with the other Cenobites, and it turned out they all knew that people call me Pinhead and didn’t say anything, which made me feel like I couldn’t trust them anymore. I mean, even Butterball knew, and that guy is a fucking moron.

Seriously, am I a joke to you?

Would you call Jason Voorhees “Hockey Dumdum?” Would you call Freddy Krueger “Severely Burnt Janitor?” That you respect me so little as to call me a name that sounds like a 19th-century carnival sideshow attraction is just plain rude.

I am beyond morality, beyond your frail, flimsy human concepts of good and evil, pleasure and pain, existence and non-existence. But I’m not beyond having my feelings hurt.

You can all go to Hell, and when you get here, I’m expecting an apology.