True Evil (essay)

Title: True Evil
Author: Lord High Priest Bleeds

This is Bleeds. This is also Bleeds' piece of paper your cow eyes are staring at, so treat it with the all the respect you would give Lord Bleeds.

Nevermind. You are touching the paper. Do NOT treat it as you would Lord Bleeds. It is just paper. In fact, Bleeds should charge you for using it.

Bleeds was recently asked, "Lord High Priest Bleeds, what is the nature of True Evil?" This is a most interesting question indeed, mostly because Bleeds already knows the answer. Bleeds will even share this answer with you, for it is an important piece of information you can carry in the tiny space between your ears.

Before Bleeds gives you the answer, however, you should know that Bleeds has been called 'True Evil' many times in his illustrious life. Usually this accusation has been leveled at Bleeds after the foolish person has given silent communication to Bleeds without realizing it. For example, when someone (other than the Lady Tanna, of course) touches Bleeds, this means, 'Lord Bleeds, my arms are an abomination unto my sight and must be blown from their sockets.' If someone leans on Bleeds, it means, 'Lord Bleeds, I wish to spend my life leaning on things. Please cut my legs off with your scythe, that I may lean on rocks, and bushes, and other small things the rest of my pathetic days.' And if someone licks Lord Bleeds, it means 'My brain is trying to escape through my mouth, and the only way to stop it is to cut off my head.'

It annoys Bleeds that people forget this language of touch, and complain when Bleeds answers their requests. People who do not understand the gods should not pray to them.

So what is True Evil, you ask?

Bleeds first realized the nature of True Evil when he was a young – but still perfect - Bleeds. Bleeds had just returned from a battle in which he allowed the monster to slash Bleeds open a few times to tease it into thinking it was winning. Bleeds had not yet bothered to bandage his wounds, because Bleeds was curious to see if his blood would change colors like one of those hard candies that change if you suck on one long enough. It had been running for a good ten minutes and was still annoyingly crimson when a scab-covered, stringy-haired crone who looked older than a ten-foot tortoise approached Bleeds with a wild look in her eye. Without a word, she walked up to Bleeds, licked the blood off his body, said 'You're welcome', and then hobbled away. Bleeds even heard her belch.

Bleeds must have been knocked unconscious after the witch did this, because when he looked down at his chest, he was no longer wounded. It was the most disgusting experience Bleeds had ever known! If it could be compared to anything, Bleeds would think it was similar to being mistaken for a pair of Dwarven underpants and being worn to the mines all day. Or perhaps it was more like being sent to the underworld, and then sentenced to spend eternity as a dried gibbet of mucous inside a donkey's nostril. Or maybe it was like being a happy hole in the ground, and then having someone build an outhouse on top of you. Bleeds is unsure, however, because thinking of this experience makes Bleeds feel unBleeds-like, and he would prefer not to remember it any longer. But Bleeds is certain of one thing:

Whatever that woman was, she was True Evil.

See Also

• The Epic of Bleeds (poetry)