I Love the Smell of Cinereal in the Morning

It's been a week since I got cut open by that Holder. I've found out that I can get into any church, of pretty much any faith, I guess, without so much of a question. They feed me and even let me sleep there for as long as I want. No questions asked. And I mean, it's like I own the goddamned place, priests always referring to me in respectful tones and asking if I can teach them anything.

I kinda doubt that those pious bastards would be interested in anything I have to say, though. So I really don't say anything other than "Food" or "Sleep". I figure the less I say around them, the better. Dig? I've sort of gotten used to the fat that my sword isn't there when I don't need it, and just sort of springs into my hands when I want it. It's a sweet gig, really, and I've pretty much gotten over the annoyance of getting gutted by that fucking Holder.

I really have a hard time staying on topic. I read some shit while I was perusing these old books some Jewish... synagogue? Is that the word? Had.

Legion. That's a badass-sounding name if ever I heard one. So, I managed to learn a bit more about this Legion fuck. I swear, as I was reading, the edges of my mouth were looking hungrily at my ears. Shit was that good.

Apparently this Legion fuck and some other fucker, two dumbfucks that I don't give half of a gnawed-on rat's ass about, mind you, used to be just regular fucktard Seekers. Right? They, also put my goddamned record to shame. I fucking swear, I poured sweat, blood, and tears out by the buckets to get my ten Objects, and people like fucking Asshole and Dumb & Dumber here are out getting 'em by the truckload. That brings my piss to a boil.

Have I mentioned that I suck at staying on-topic? Yeah, anyways, those two are actually linked to Asshole. Jack Empty. Just saying that name makes me kinda salivate a little. I bet he has so many damned Objects that the Big Guy will invent a new paradise for me killing him. I read some more, and apparently, this fucker had a kid. Poor kid, amirite? I don't know shit about him, but Jack, yeah, apparently he's alive and kickin'! I think I managed to pick up his scent, so to speak. I don't know why, but my gut's telling me that I'm close. 'Course my gut's so fucked up most of the time that "Close" is prolly in fucking New Zealand. Or some shit.

So, I've started walking. Just popping in and out of nut houses recently, just hoping to catch a glimpse of this elusive motherfucker. I read he also moves pretty quick. Quick enough to leave an afterimage. I need to try that some time.

One day I hope I might meet a man. He'll have gray hair, gray skin, and a gray suit. He'll be smiling a little too wide, just enough to make me thing something's wrong. Then I'll see the eyes; the cold, dead, hollow eyes, and I'll know he's damned.