[THE FOLLOWING PASSAGE OFFERS THE MOST ACCURATE KNOWN ACCOUNT OF THE ORIGIN OF THE BEING KNOWN AS SLIMMBOB. THE ORIGINAL SOURCE OF THE TEXT IS UNKNOWN, THOUGH EXPERTS SPECULATE THAT IT WAS LIKELY WRITTEN BY THE CREATURE ITSELF.]
TAP-TAP-TAP
Five years ago a man regularly woke up in cold sweats, his stomach wrenching, the beating of his heart so fast he thought the blood would seep out of his veins. To be honest, it would be a mercy. Every morning the man would crawl out of bed, shivering. He’d take a shower, carry on his day, work his joyless job and try to forget the cursed dream ever happened. But it didn’t work. It never worked. And every time the nightmare hit, something changed within the man.
TAP-TAP-TAP
The man could never forget the endless cycle of nightmares. The events themselves were always clouded in fog, just out of comprehensive reach. Perhaps this was the soul’s way of saving itself from the pain. Maybe the truth was just too much.
TAP-TAP-TAP
But this troubled the man even more. Was the truth so bad that he couldn’t face it? Would it send him into a spiral of madness in the real world? No. Accepting an endless loop of insanity was not an option. The man knew that the only way he could end the cycle was to face it in its own realm, the nightmare itself. So he prepared.
TAP-TAP-TAP
In his free time the man locked himself in his house, void of family and friends. This was the only way to save everyone. He was destined to become a saviour, a martyr if necessary. First he researched his condition. Sure, recurring dreams were common amongst society, but the man knew his case was different. For years he researched deities of the night, translated ancient texts, performed ceremonies to appease the gods.
TAP-TAP-TAP
But nothing changed. It was as if the nightmare was always one step ahead. Another year passed. The man was beginning to give up. Whatever this thing was, it was far beyond human comprehension, something the man was beginning to admire. Some would consider this dangerous, but the man was undeniably losing strength.
TAP-TAP-TAP
The nightmare increased its tempo. It knew it was close. If the man’s shell was to become the next vessel, now was the time to strike.
TAP-TAP-TAP
The man had another nightmare. At least he thought it was at first. But then everything changed. He felt the pressure slowly leave his head, his lungs gasping, filling with air. The fog finally began to lift.
TAP-TAP-TAP
The man stared calmly into the abyss. It was beautiful, always had been. If only he had noticed before. The man could hardly remember what was wrong in the first place, something about a bad dream maybe? Didn’t matter. His purpose had become clear now.
TAP-TAP-TAP
It was never a dream but a vision. A realisation. The tapping signified the start of something extraordinary, something the man knew he couldn’t fight. So why not embrace it? And that’s exactly what the man did. It had been a long journey, but he was finally met with peace.
TAP-TAP-TAP
Now the real task was thrust upon him. The tapping was key. It could never die, he wouldn’t let it. The man knew in his heart he would have to spread the tapping to everyone to keep it alive. Yes. Spread the dream. It was time.
TAP-TAP-TAP
With a grin, the man bought his first drum kit....
TAP-TAP-TAP-TAP