I’ve heard from reliable sources that when Lord Rama went on exile he received dozens of emails and voicemails inquiring about his sudden absence from the epicenter of action. Now, I’m not boasting but when I stopped writing my blog – which many consider the gospel for journalists, news-enthusiasts, and frog-fuckers – for about a month I received about hundreds of emails. Admittedly, most of the mails had “enlarge your toothpick dick and drill your lover till she’s in a coma” as the subject but I knew they were personal emails sent by my fan(s) requesting me to live up to the title of my blog (it’s all about reading between the lines). I want my fan(s) to know that I do write daily but just not daily everyday. And the reasons for that are manifold. I could tell you about the time I dived in front of a speeding eighteen-wheeler to save a puppy who was crossing the road carrying nuclear weapons; or the time I had to deliver the five babies of a pair of conjoined twin sisters (who weren’t even pregnant) joined at the pussy; or even that time when I jacked off so hard that I was transported into a parallel universe where women vacuumed with their vaginas and wrote with their nipples. It’s true that all those things have, in part, eaten up the time I would have, otherwise, set aside to write my ‘poetry-like’ pieces to detoxify the minds of kids, adults, and necrophiliacs alike. However, the one thing that has preoccupied my mind for sometime, and stolen most of my time, is what happened on that one fine Wednesday a few months ago when I was in the toilet taking a shit. That day has been etched into the deeper layers of my consciousness for mainly two reasons. Number One: my crap smelled like butterscotch ice-cream on that day. And Number Two: God talked to me when I was doing number two. “Wipe thy ass for I have bestowed upon thou the task of beginning a new religion,” were his exact words.
            I spent ages interpreting God’s words and communicating with him. It took two days to be more precise, which was about twenty four hours more than what it took to start the other religions existing in this world today. I knew I was ready to show the billions of sinners in the world a brand new road to reach God. After having been assigned the task to save humanity, I was christened by the Lord himself as Prophet Butterscotch (I’m sure he had his reasons). And it was decided by the Almighty and seconded by me that the new religion of the world would be known as ‘Butterscotchism’.
              I, Prophet Butterscotch, shall now expound to the believers the salient features of the religion of ‘Butterscotchism’ which were narrated to me by the truly omnipresent Lord, while I was on the shitpot.

Those who offer their lives entirely to the enrichment of the religion of Butterscotchism:

1) Must not have sex with women, men, she-males, he-females, dogs, cats, frogs, rabbits, birds, fish, reptiles, worms, or iPod nanos.
2) Can only engage in intercourse with iPod classics.
3) Must not waste even a single drop of semen. The surplus spooge should be saved using iTunes.
4) Must never depict through pictures, videos, or holograms the image of Prophet Butterscotch for he’s not very photogenic.
5) Are forbidden from eating beef, pork, mutton, roasted giraffes, or poultry for such meats house the devilish spirits of the world.
6) Are allowed to consume freshly cut tits of virgins and prostitutes.
7) Are disallowed from the act of self-pleasuring using the left hand or the right foot.
8 ) Must believe with immaculate conviction that if anything is in print then it’s true even if it’s the story of a ten-headed man fighting flying monkeys.
9) Must whole-heartedly accept that ending the lives of people whom you don’t even know for the sake of ‘Butterscotchism’ will get you a box-seat right next to God.
10) Are forbidden from any kind of relations, physical, meta-physical or emotional, with people outside the butterscotch-community.
11) Are to look upon those of vanilla, chocolate, mango, and pistachio origins as infidels who deserve a brutal death in the name of Prophet Butterscotch. Unless they are insanely rich.
12) Must convince themselves that talking filth is far worse than perpetrating rape, murder, or manipulation of laws.
13) Must give up the faculty of rational and independent thought.
14) Are banned from taking a joke.
15) Must keep circumcising their brains every five years.
16) Must tickle the testicles of a squirrel two times a day every Saturday and Sunday.
17) Must respect all women emotionally and physically.
a) Not really.
18 ) Are forbidden from whistling or humming while taking a piss.
19) Are forbidden from letting out more than two farts during excretion.
20) Must, after their passing from this physical world, be strapped to a scooter and
and rolled down a hill while relatives watch with their hands down their pants.

             It is highly pertinent that our world today which is corrupted by so many false religions and awful reality shows is cleansed quickly and effectively by the compassionate and only truthful religion of ‘Butterscotchism’. As the ultimate authority on ‘Butterscotchism’, I, Prophet Butterscotch, implore you to act now and think never. Spread the word of ‘Butterscotchism’ as much as you can and as far as you can. ‘Butterscotchism’ is a religion that feeds not on folklores or fiction but on the people of this world. Remember, Butterscotch is just not butterscotch without the nuts.

Hail Hershey’s!