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In a dark realm beyond even the most remote, psychadelic hypnosis emerges salad fingers. The inertia of this creatures life revolves around its dysfunctional role in nature to find sexual pleasure in rubbing oxidized metals; the few adult souls who encounter him find themselves plundering into a glorious but agonizingly tortuous and ritualistic death; the only real contact reflecting any human persona expressal is with finger puppets who join in an occasional hair perm... to look directly at salad fingers is to inhumanely mock him; do not cage him, stay away from his world lest you find yourself the next fish in the oven...
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