Want Your Mind Blown? Well Get Over Here!

You know I had to make the title sneaky or else you guys would never come in seeing that it's not me writing today's post. This douchebag on your left has an uh-mazing blog about stuff and things and he grumpily agreed to write a guest post after I threatened to chop him to bits with my ninja sword. He's also the best writer in the world (after Hemingway, of course).

Buenos Aires is cold but lovely now and I've been catching up on The Color Purple and other books I'd never read and felt like a complete and utter idiot for not having done so. I leave you with Charles Emerson III (no he's not a king but he wears a gold crown from time to time just for fun. More on gold crowns later, I promise).

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My name is Charles Emerson. I am writing to you from the year 2018, from a hole in the ground somewhere near the east coast of the United States.

I haven't eaten in three days, and I know that “Los Quinces” will catch up with me soon. I have little time to try to explain, and probably little time to live.

I hope that the course of history can be reversed. I pray that somehow the clock can be turned back and I will be allowed to live in a world where the sky isn't black, where there is more than Cuban beans and rice to eat, and where people are allowed to have sex. When “past Annah” discovers that I have hacked into her blogger service from across the time gate, she will certainly remove this post and then all will be lost, unless you help me.

Here's the situation:

On October 16, 2011, the first atomic bombs were dropped. No one knew what hit them. They lit up the sky and millions died in an instant.

For months, there was chaos. For months, we counted the dead and mourned. Then came “Los Quinces”.

A cyborg army of destructive power that no one had ever imagined. There was terror when these robots, who looked like innocent fifteen year old Cuban girls in fancy dresses, came across the American landscape from the south, destroying everything in their path. Los Quinces killed anyone who opposed them, and they relied on a perfect fuel source: wine and vodka. They were unstoppable.

No one knew what was going on. No one but me and a few others who remember a blog post from a little more than a year back. The cyborgs looked exactly like the woman who runs this blog that you are reading now.

It took years for me to piece this all together, and there is still much that I don't know, but I know that Annah had been preparing Los Quinces for a long time, and had been perfecting the computer prowess that it took to hack into the main nuclear launch mechanism for the United States Air Force.

I do know, for sure, what happened to poor Annah. She had taken a vow of celibacy. The celibacy had driven her mad. Once a funny and successful Cubana, Annah's mind just snapped when she decided to stop having sex for six months in 2010. For the first week she was okay, but by the third week, she was planning the destruction of the modern world. Her goal? To impose celibacy on every remaining human being. She called her plan “famosity”, which was a code word for “all out world domination”.

In the future, where I come from, Annah is the queen, and we are all her servants. Sex is the greatest crime and no one is allowed to have it except her. She has rounded up all of the hottest latin guys in the world and brought them to her new palace (the presidential palace in Cuba), and she makes whoopee with them day and night, while the rest of the world goes mad from their involuntary celibacy.

The punishment for having intercourse is death. This is a terrible time to live in, indeed.

I was only able to briefly open a data time gate to force this message back through time. My time is nearing an end now, and my only chance for survival, no, our only chance for survival, is for someone to interrupt Annah's vow of celibacy.

She must be stopped. The fate of your children and your children's children depends on it. I implore you, before it's too late, you must kidnap one of the following men and deliver him to Annah in Florida. By my calculations, she should be returning from a vacation sometime in the next few days. Bring one of these men to her at any cost.

Make sure there is a lot of wine there, and lock them in a room with a bed together until you can hear them making sweet love. This is the only thing that will save us.

I must go now, before Los Quinces find me and punish me for my deceit. I live in constant fear, and I beg you all to heed my word.

You have been warned. Warn the others, please, before it is too late.