Friday, March 27, 2009

March 27, 2009: Nightmare

LOLSCHACH's Journal: March 27, 2009

Had nightmare again. Always the same. Vision pursues me like spectral hound across moonlit swamp. Always catches up with me, rending and goring my sanity with dagger-like teeth. Cannot escape.

Every night. Always the same...

Am not LOLSCHACH. Am large, blonde man. Musician. Heavy metal musician. Canadian heavy metal musician. Music is terrible. Footnote in rock 'n' roll history at best. Grotesquely muscular. Doomed to future of horrific obesity. Hurm.

Have rented shack in most desolate wastelands of Toronto. Need privacy to record greatest heavy metal album known to man. Friends are dead. All dead. Killed by poorly designed monsters with rubber complections. Only one left. I sit alone. Awaiting my fate.

Approached by large puppet claiming to be Beelezebub; Satan-himself. Creature mocks me. Flails arms like Kermit the Frog. Declares my imminent demise through stiff jaws incapable of articulating even a single syllable. Dialogue is poorly dubbed over puppet.

"Bub", as I refer to him, summons forth hordes of malevolent followers. Bizarre, phallic Cyclopean abominations shamble forth from darkness, though mostly from beneath tables where puppeteer cannot be seen.

Considerably disappointed with production values of this nightmare.

Rise and meet their threat. Emit blinding, holy light which drives creatures back into the shadows.

The light dims and I am transformed. I am Triton: The Intercessor. An Archangel sent forth by God to smite Bub and his sinister legions of penis-shaped hand puppets.

Remaining monsters flee at sight of rhinestone-studded speedo. Image is horrible. Like something from one of the movies Veidt keeps sending me.

Approach Bub. Declare intent to smite him where he stands. Bub laughs. First assault begins.

Am besieged by numerous flying, man-eating starfish. They are out for blood. Dodge the first wave.

The starfish are many. Too many. Cannot dodge all of them. Eventually, I succumb to their blood-sucking tentacles. Starfish latch onto chest. Feel Heavenly energies fading.

Shall this be the last stand of Triton: The Intercessor?


Destroy the starfish. Attempt to rip them in half. They are made of rubber. Too difficult to rip in half. Decide to just throw them on ground.

With the starfish at last defeated, I lunge toward Bub with chaotic fury. We lock hands in mortal combat, continuing our epic struggle which has been waged for centuries untold.

Struggle for what feels like an eternity. Darkest hour approaches. Tap into reserves and summon forth enough righteous fury to overcome foe.

Bub is bewildered. Large puppet stumbles backward. Arms continue to flail unnaturally and hysterically.
Victory assured, my eyes glow with an all-powerful energy.

Seize Bub by throat. Beat him fiercely, like wild animal. His foam rubber exterior crumbles beneath my knuckles.

Finally, the altercation is concluded. Bub swears vengeance and vanishes in a wild and dazzling explosion of fire and brimstone.

The nightmare ends. LOLSCHACH awakens.

True meaning of nightmare eludes me. Subconscious attempting to convey deep, life-altering message. So cryptic. So complex. Despite best efforts, cannot decipher.

No doubt nightmare will persist, like vulture of Prometheus, gnawing at my liver for all eternity. Hurm.


  1. It means you secretly wish to prance around in a rhinestone-studded speedo

    Hilarious post as always

  2. Best part: "Considerably disappointed with production values of this nightmare."


  3. Am I the only one who noticed the resemblance between "Beezlebub" and NiteOwl?