Tenshi Baku-Hiroshima Habanero Wasabi-Mon #239

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Hello. I come to you today with grim news.

I am not Epifex, I am his doctor. I'm afraid he has been involved in a freak fatal accident involving an ant farm, a barrel of plastic explosives and seven kilogrammes of risotto rice. Rest assured he is well on his way to recovery and will be back with you soon.

An unfortunate side effect is that he now thinks his name is Fitzgerald and is only capable of speaking in limericks.

Regardless, the moment he woke up from his gruesomely dismembering incident, his first request was that I hand him a notepad. Using only the scrap paper to hand, his fingernail as a pen, and ink forged from his own bloodstained bile, he drew this up and thrust it into my hands.

He told me his username and password, and insisted that the most important thing I could do right now, all in a rather astounding display of improvised limerick, was to upload it and describe the events leading up to this.

He said something about an epiphany of artistic style, or about taking the series in a new direction. Something like that. I couldn't make heads or tails of it, but he assured me that you people would understand.