Chronicles in a small room of Lord Pjohrphg

A brief introduction is in order. Lord Pjohrphg lived a grand life. When he was Mr. Pjohrphg, he made his living by selling artificial shoelaces. Business was good, as it appeared everyone wanted to buy artificial shoelaces. One fortunate day, he ended up selling a particularly delicious pair of artificial shoelaces to the Queen. The Queen was positively delighted at that, for she swore she had never seen a more artificial pair of artificial shoelaces. "They are so artificial that its almost as if they aren't here !", she was quoted as saying. This led to the Mr. being dropped, and the Lord added.
However, one day, while he was relaxing in a large chair, he got knocked out, and the next thing he knew, he was a in a very dark room. From here one...let Lord Pjohrphg take it on.

Diary entry: Some unknown date

Some unknown date indeed ! I have lost track of time now...every moment seems like eternity, and eternity has been replaced by infinite oblivion.

Here I am, cramped in this rotten little room, with absolutely no light whatsoever ! My GOD it is dark in here ! I feel as if some madman burnt my eyes, poked the remains out, blindfolded me and then shoved my head up Satan's bottom. And...I can't believe that I am actually writing down entries in a diary when I can't even see one micrometer ahead of me. Actually, come to think of it, what the hell is a diary doing here anyways ? Those damned people must have a weird sense of humour...they must be psychic thinking that I would want to write something down ! And not just psychic, mad too...I mean, how the hell can I write something when there is no light !! An odd sensation ! I could be staring at my bottom and writing for all I know, and I would never know the difference as to if I am looking at my text or my bottom, except maybe for the terrible back pain I would get. Bah !

Now that it seems to me that I have all the time in the world, if someone was ever to find my works in darkness, I guess the first challenge will be how to say my name. Accursed be that dire matron from whose stomach I had the displeasure of emerging ! I have been told she died shortly after giving me my name. I am not surprised, for lest that woman was still alive, I would hunt her down and invoke the Gods of Fury on her for giving this name to me !! Oh, the agony of bearing a name such as the one I have !! Nine months in that accursed womb was not enough torture for me, but then, to top it of, this name ! Was I so hideously ugly when I was born that she chose such a name ? I would not be surprised if its this name that killed her ! Society mocks me for my name ! Pjohrphg, they say, and then they laugh for hours. And the embarrassment at when being asked my name ! Alas, I cannot answer that question without bathing the poor person in half a bucket of my own saliva, as I struggle to say each syllable of that damned name !!

Alas, dear reader, I grow weary. But this damned place is so dark that I cannot be sure if I am sleeping or awake. Just the state of my mind confirms it for me. I will return. Come to think of it, what else can I do ?