Actually, this book doesn't have a dedication. Not formally. But, for the record, I hereby dedicate it to myself. My monument, maybe. Last will and testament kind of thing.


        That done, here is a warning and a set of acknowledgements.

Acknowledgements
and a Warning

        Works consulted during the construction of this text include Fluoride: Corroder of the Wings of Angels by Janet Pildo; One in Five is Tracer, by Hamaxamal Paris, a biography of Wittgenstein, he who is known to his fans and adorers as the Ultimate Machinegunner; and Evil Penguins: Six Months in a Frozen Land, the seminal travel book by Chilblain Motivus, which provided useful insights into the nature of absolute evil.
        The author has also been influenced by Thermonuke Enthusiasms: the Erectile Function of the Phallic Missile, by Michita Khan, and Tropogenesis: a Guide to Endogenous Hallucinations in a Mode of Wakefulness by Zimothy Buddha.
        The author regrets that legal pressure led to the deletion of an introduction to concrete block terrorism (high buildings, heavy weights), a recipe for cooking up the nerve gas sarin, the schematics of a simple build-it-in-your-garage thermonuke, a workable plan for switching off the electricity in your home town (some assembly required) and some interesting bioengineering material pertaining to genetic modifications and avian flu. Yes, and five pages of quotes from The Arsonist's Handbook, all that had to go, too.
        Also deleted, regretfully (there is no such thing as free speech, it seems) were a chapter dealing with a Forger initiation ceremony, the history of the Cute Dimples Daycare Center machete massacre (which took place on the island of Gorleth), a chapter explaining exactly how Manfred Sphere obtained those shrunken heads of his, an amusing dissertation of the secret home life of gerbils and a twenty-five orgasm sex scene involving a live toad, a jellyfish, the hellgod Stothus Larzelbub and Olive Marquetta Pompadour Valise, at that time a virgin.
        The praise poem Angel Wings for a Dead Suicide Bomber also had to be deleted, as, too, did the retelling of the classic tale known as The Glorification of Genji. Who is Genji? Genji is the perpetrator of the bomb blast slaughter known as the Childshow Massacre. When Genji arrives at the gates of Heaven, God Himself goes down on His knees and crawls to the gates to greet the honored hero, and, subsequently, Genji is seated at His right hand.
        It is known that God moves in mysterious ways, but a full exploration of the more mysterious of those ways is no longer legally possible.
        Because of death threats and other considerations, the author was forced to abandon plans to reproduce the Sign of the Forged Eye (the Eye of Infinite Insight, shown standing dominant on the Anvil of the Initiator) on the cover of this book and so the original cover had to be scrapped.
        The autopsy scene involving the systematic disemboweling of the dead teddy bear Ally Pappy was also removed, on the grounds that it might be distressing for any readers aged nine or under who managed to get their hands on this book.
        However, much remains, including the terrorization of Topaz Atatangle in the building known as Scream Box, the headquarters of the secret police. The book also contains an indicative description of the function of Room Deep Serpent (some adult insight required here, perhaps, to flesh out the details), the cocaine scene in the Dead Parrot Bar and the branding of the blonde girl. (No, not with a decal. That's not how you do branding. You use red hot iron.) So be warned: this book may do more than just rattle your bubblegum.
        In the end, was the massage scene involving President Olive Valise and her life coach Helen Gobster included? And what about the scene with the cigarette ash in the strumpet's panties? And the high school teacher looking for nookie in that waterfront bar in Taris, Sober Alibis, and the sad account of exactly what happened to him? And how about the scene in the Dungeon of Death, the "Now you're going to be tortured to death" scene in which the torturer, Abigail Witchdog, masked in black leather, begins by laying a whip across the back of Ibrahim Chess, drawing blood? What happened to that? One does not remember. So much to keep track of, and so little time. Still, the book got finished.
        Life coach for this enterprise was Joseph Attila and the requisite focusing tattoo (number nine in the Intricate Scorpion series) was done by Tiger Sabotage of Hungoth Artistry, a very good guy, but someone who should really wrap his head around the idea that drinking methylated spirits is not good for you.
        In planning this book, the author was assisted by the haruspices who worked for Babylon-based Hygienic Entrails. He was lucky enough to enjoy their services just before the Department of Occupational Safety and Health stepped in and closed the whole place down.
        Guinevere Concubine, Mistress of the Black Candles, worked very hard to put the author in contact with Genloosh Babrishka, otherwise known as Lord Dissection, although this entity did not, ultimately, feature in the book; it was a privilege and a pleasure to receive Guinevere's personal attention in this enterprise.
        Adepts from Coffinlid Inspirationals were of immense assistance in channeling the souls of various deceased authors, some of them more coherent than others, and a sacrificial water buffalo was kindly donated by Yabuki Agriculture. Experimental psychotropic drugs necessary for the completion of this work were provided by Dr. Crippen of Tenebra Pharmaceuticals and psychiatric aftercare was delivered by the Timor Mortis Recovery Clinic.
         Thanks to the ruling pope, Benedict Bignumber, Church of Rome guy, for kicking in some useful thoughts about a universe possessed of direction and order. Nice to know that a guy who shares his breakfast table with God is not shy about sharing the insights he gains thereby. God, by proxy, was in on the team on this one.
         Other people who contributed to the writing of this book include Dr. David Porter, the oncologist in charge of the author's chemotherapy, and Dr. Gillian Campbell, radiation oncologist. Without the assistance of these two individuals, the completion of this book would have been complicated by that intractable disability known as death.
         Another problem, blindness, was dealt with surgically by Dr. Nick Mantell of the Eye Institute, the hero of the author's life, who performed a jelly-removal operation (vitrectomy) on each eye and, for each eye, removed a cataract and inserted an intraocular lens focused at infinity. Infinity, in practice, seems to start at the end of the author's arm. Eternity is closer than you think.
        To all those involved, the author extends his deepest and most sincere thanks.