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Dear Mortals,

I write you from the captivity of the sifting dimension, where time and space move with excruciating sluggishness and leave only my thoughts for passing the hours. Well, that and playing Paper, Scissor, Rock. Niccolo and forty others are here, too, and we must do something apart from wallowing.

However, with an abundance of time on my hands, I’ve been given the opportunity to review the facts pertaining to my situation—and to the situation of the impending apocalypse (and not that silly Mayan apocalypse people celebrated by eating 12-patty burgers—the burgergeddon from Carl’s Jr.— and pounding Mayan Margaritas at TGI Friday’s). I mean the real end of days set to occur in August of 2013, according to Cimil’s predictions.

But now, more than ever, I am convinced that Cimil is up to something. Something sinister. Yes. And I believe it all started with my brother Chaam, with his turn toward evil. If only we knew the truth about what really happened. Perhaps it is time to release him and ask.

I suspect his finger will point toward Cimil. After all, she has been the common thread at every turn. And while she claims her latest error (watching Love Boat reruns when she should have been keeping an eye on the future) was an honest mistake, I find it difficult to believe. Cimil is cunning and devious. She always has been and she always will be.

What I simply cannot deduce, however, is what she is up to. After all, her meddling has resulted in extraordinary blessings—finding my Emma, the love of my life, for example. Kinich and Niccolo would also both agree that finding their mates was well worth the trouble Cimil bestowed upon them.

So then what his her endgame? Why go through so much trouble to drive us toward true love only to simultaneously trigger the end of times?

Yes. That goddess is up to something. We must all be on the lookout for signs and clues. If she appears at your garage sale, take note of what she buys. If you encounter her in a café, count how many clowns she is with and if they are clothed or not. If you spot her with Roberto at the Quickie-mart…well, perhaps you should just run. She’s probably plotting to murder him with a Slim Jim.

I must go now. It is my turn to referee the next round of charades.

I wish you and your mortal loved ones a very joyous New Year.

aka Guy Santiago, God of Death and War.