Oh Jiminy Christmas, I goofed up.
Fellas, this one is on me. Well, maybe it’s not really my fault. Kind of a miscommunique on your part, but I suppose as “The Leader,” I’ll be the bigger person and say it: I’m sorry if you’re upset that you castrated yourselves.
But your Dear Leader never asked you to ice your balls numb, lob the boys off with a bandsaw, and cauterize the wounds. While I appreciate your misguided devotion, these kinda shenanigans ain’t my bag.
All I ever wanted was to obliterate your sense of self, severe all contact you had with friends and family, and control every aspect of your waking life. But this testicle business… it’s plain icky.
I’ll give you this — it took some moxy to castrate yourselves. You spunky, rascally eunuchs! If you’re not dead from sepsis in a couple days, I bet you chuckleheads will have a good chortle about this whole muck-up.
Regardless, the pile of severed testicles in the bathroom has got to vamoose. If you’d like to hang on to your balls as a keepsake, use a sharpie to mark them with your initials, otherwise they’re going in my mom’s garbage disposal.
I will say, despite the obvious negatives of this little mix up, I am just over the moon impressed with how quickly this cult has developed! Six months ago we were a knitting collective meeting at a strip mall Starbucks once a week. Look at how far we’ve come! I mean, you know, maybe just a tad TOO far with this little what have you, but still!
Is it too late to go back to knitting? Because now that I’m staring at your vacant sacs, I just gotta say it — I’m not sure I’m really feeling this whole cult leader thing.
Sure, the chicks and the money have been great, particularly the porking of all your wives atop stacks of your life savings and worldly possessions, but now that there’s a metric butt ton of severed cult member nards in my mom’s downstairs bath, I’ve soured.
We’ve had our fun, but really I was yanking your chains about the “eternal salvation in exchange for undying loyalty” thing. Let’s call it a day on this here cult. We gave it a good run, gang! You should all be proud.
Sorry about destroying you mentally. That part was def my goof. You all can go back to your families now.
And before you ask, the answer is yes, I’m keeping all your stuff and money.
Hail Kryzlak or whatever the fuck we’ve been saying. Please leave my mom’s place before she gets home.