I was in a supermarket recently searching for a brown mustard-and-conditioner in one. It was while I was reading the ingredient label on a jar of Gouldens Dry Scalp Formula that I looked to the children's book rack and there spied the title "My Little Golden Book About God."
Now as anyone knows, my interest in life's headiest metaphysical mystery has led me on some stange journeys; from the highest mountain peaks of Peru to snort crystalized alpaca urine with an Incan shaman to the sewers beneath Istanbul to read 900-year old grafitti scrawled by the heretical Saint Phoqallyall. Having found no theological resolution in these rarified encounters I have left the door open to the chance that sublime truth may be found where I least expect it.
So it was with genuine anticipation that I opened the book, curious to know what the people at Little Golden Books believed small children who stick Beeferoni up their noses could absorb about the Inscrutible One.
You cannot imagine my horror, however, when my eyes met pages filled with saccharine, pastel artwork depicting cold-eyed androids that were clearly not of our realm. In a Beautiful Mind moment of schizophrenic clarity I saw the book for what it was: not a gentle introduction to life's most profound curiosity, but a primer for the parasitic offspring of an invisible invasion!
For the safety of our race (if any still remain) I have translated this book in the hopes that a resistance may arise. Read the baby powder scented Final Solution of our enemies from beyond, otherwise known as : Zogg
Read and ye shall know the truth, dearlings.
