My name is Madison Desert Flower Rosa Parks Coyote Trickster Spencer, and I’m a ghost. Meaning: Boo! I’m thirteen years old, and I’m somewhat overweight. Meaning: I’m dead and fat. Meaning: I’m a piggy-pig-pig, oink-oink, real porker. Just ask my mom. I’m thirteen and fat—and I will stay this way forever. And, yes, I know the word ulcerate. I’m dead, not illiterate. You’ve heard the term midlife crisis? Simply put, I’m currently suffering a “mid-death crisis.” After some eight months lodged in the fiery underworld of Hell I now find myself stranded as a spirit in the living-alive physical world, a condition more commonly known as Purgatory. This feels exactly like flying at Mach 1 aboard my dad’s Saab Draken from Brasilia to Riyadh, only to be trapped circling the airport in a holding pattern, waiting for permission to land. Plainly and simply put, Purgatory is where you unwrite the book of your life story.
Welcome again to the sequeldom era. After Madison Spencer escaped hell in Damned, we would’ve expected, maybe, a mind-blowing realm of the dead confrontation with Satan or something. But, no. Maddy is now in Purgatory, reminiscing her past sins among the world of the living (At least that’s Palahniuk’s version of purgatory), posting her life stories on an afterlife blog.
She explains ketamine:
Ketamine, Gentle Tweeter, is a common trade name for hydrochloride. It’s an anesthetic that binds to opioid receptors in brain cells, and is administered most often to prepare patients and animals for surgery. It comforts victims trapped in terrible car crashes; it’s that strong. To acquire it you can either buy ketamine for huge sums of cash via a covert network of third-world laboratories run by organized crime syndicates in Mexico and Indonesia, or you can just give Raphael, our gardener in Montecito, a hand job.
Back on Earth, what a crazy world it has become. Because of her misleading psychic messages from the underworld her ever so lunatic parents are unintentionally inspired to establish a new crazy religion, with Maddy as its patron angel, where insults are the new prayers and rudeness is the new politeness. And if the plot doesn’t sound ridiculous enough, here’s another punch: Few years before Maddy wasn’t fat. And she also had killed a mysterious exhibitionist in a dingy public toilet. Unintentionally squished the later turned out to be not so mysterious pervert’s genital with a copy of Charles Darwin’s Voyage of the Beagle. So Satan was right after all. She is the end of humanity. The Armageddon. Or is she? Of course, this is a Palahniuk novel. So obviously there will be some plot twists coming.