Saturday, March 17, 2012


Hi All,

I've asked an evil presence into my house. It came the way vampires do: I invited it in. And now I am well and truly doomed.

It started, as all nightmares tend to, in an inoffensive and I daresay trifling way. It was Valentine's day and I was thinking about what I should get for the apple of my eye. Well, she was and remains pregnant and as such her back was ailing her rather badly. She said, offhand, that a body pillow would be nice. I said to myself: Hmmmm. This is something I have an opportunity to say to myself from time to time. Hmmmmm, I said. A body pillow, you say? Perhaps not the most romantic gift in the world but the intent seemed romantic enough: to alleviate some pain from the back and hips of the woman I love.

So off to the pillow store I went. It didn't look like a soul-sucking parlour of evil and cuckholding, but aye indeed it was. I was sold a body pillow—the last in stock! Top of the line, as body pillows go. Tippy-top of the line!

I came home well-pleased with my purchase. I even drew a funny little face on the pillow: SURROGATE CRAIG. Ha! HA! Funny stuff.

Because I could never be replaced by a pillow ... right? The affections of my beloved could never be transferred from me, a living, breathing, loving being to a friggin' tube of cotton stuffed with more cotton ... right?

Of course, Colleen loved Surrogate Craig. Of course! I was happy! We were happy ... for a spell. Then this insidious presence was felt in the bedroom, in our previously-happy bed. It took the form of a big soft white maggot—the accursed body pillow!

Now who does she go do when she needs a little cuddlin' and a-squeezin'? Not me, nosirree! She's found a more fetching and pliant, and compliant, partner. The surrogate! The cuckholder! Oh, how I despise thee!

And it was I—oh so foolish me!—who invited this big bloated albino sausage-creature into our communal bed. Oh, most unhappy day!

And ... this surely seems foolish ... but I believe the pillow is plotting. It wants me out of the picture. A shallow grave in the backyard and he moves in to take my place. Eat my food. Drink at my table! Canoodle with my beloved—which it's already doing quite brazenly, I might add!

So if my posts should suddenly stop, if I should disappear from the grid, I beseech you to learn the face of mine enemy and take revenge in my name. Behold: THE VILE SURROGATE!

All best, Craig.

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