Chapter one. Followers of the Pipe. Are they human? Do they have a soul?

Like clockwork. The fucking of one's self is never ending. This is my witness to the only way humanly possible to explain the never ending saga of the Dildo Chronicles. Like a disturbing dream that that takes all of your might to wake from. You may in fact choose to not remember the reality of. But without need of you this nightmare is all to real to many and without any mercy or care. All of this takes place here in Southern California. The exact location I will not reveal for now. To the eye the setting is peacefull and beautiful. To the soul, it's corrosive and hollowing. Like the nucleus of a spiders web fanning out to capture all that don't see it and be fed upon. There are many that follow the way of the pipe. The pipe holds dominion, and it's subjects become zombie like. Vampires per say. Nocturnal and little need for sleep they surround there entire existence in a seemingly endless cycle to keep the pipe appeased. For without the pipe, It's followers helplessly fall into a coma like state of sleep and may not get up from where they lie for months or even years. This curse of slumber can only be broken by it's wicked and sadistic creator the allmighty pipe. To be continued.