Hi. If you're reading this, I'm dead. No, not in the funny "haha I'm laughing so hard that I'm suffocating myself and will soon die due to lack of oxygen" way, but in the "I'm literally fucking dead" way. You don't have to worry about that though. I don't particularly mind. Or maybe I'm not dead. I'm not entirely sure what you'd call an undead after it "ceases", but I'm gonna go with dead.

     It's crazy, right? One day, you're minding your own business—establishing a totalitarian state with plans to conquer the world—and the next day, you're me. The Belphegor. Prince of Hell; Lord of Sloth. Somebody might say it's a position as strange as any other to be in, but I'd disagree with him. I'd say it's about the most queer position there is to be in, and not just because looking like a prepubescent cross-dresser is one of the requirements.

     Well, I should probably explain how I came to be like this, shouldn't I? It's kind of a long story, but I've got all the time in the world, so if you're willing to listen, then let's begin.