Return to Castle Daltonstein

I have recently been commissioned by the Environmental Protection Agency to attempt another interview with Daltonius. The EPA hopes the information provided by the interview will aid them at an upcoming senate hearing where they intend to discuss new environmental threats to humans and Californian wild life.

The last time I saw Daltonius, he was living in a disused septic tank at an abandoned fairground in Fresno. Since then, the EPA had relocated him to an especially desolate corner of Death Valley, as children in the Fresno area were being born with rare health conditions and unusual numbers of fingers and toes. They were also waking up in the middle of the night, screaming to their parents that they had seen "The Dalt" peering in at them from outside their windows with that shit eating grin of his.

The agent in charge of the relocation effort that moved him into the desert, which was code-named "Operation Chi-Mo Exodus," had this to say about his encounter with Daltonius:

"We showed up fully garbed in radiation suits, breathing compressed air as we usually do. When we entered the septic tank... oh God... well, this is what they pay us for I guess... the situation had clearly become worse since we were last there. I couldn't see him at first... his own excrement coated the floor quite thoroughly, and he appeared to have made angels in it. And the smell... Jesus Christ the smell.... It was like what you'd get if you ate your own shit and then shat it out, and then that shit came to life and ate more shit and shat that out too.

"We found him in a darkened corner, half laughing half crying, partially submerged in his feces... He was cradeling that pink lawn flamingo he was always fooling around with, except he was nawing on it's plastic head and muttering in tounges about how it's flesh would soon become his own.

"When we told him why we were there, what we were doing... he didn't seem to even acknowledge our presence at first. He just stared into space, locked in a half-catatonic trance. We resolved to remove him physically, but the moment we touched him he sprang from his catatonic state, bouncing around the room like some horrible hob gobblin, shouting "YOSHI" in a high pitched squeal and rapidly flipping his toungue in and out of his mouth while throwing his crap at us. The tranqs proved effective before anyone was seriously hurt."

"We locked him up in the back of the van and began the drive into the desert. When he eventually came to, we offered him some food and drink from the cab. He rapidly devoured his food, and drank his water. He then proceeded to ejaculate into the empty cup, hold it up proudly, and ask, 'Refills, anyone?' When nobody responded he simply slumped over in his compartment with a sulky look on his face, and downed it himself a moment later.

"When we finally arrived at our destination, passing the 15 foot electric fences and security check points, we drove into the middle of the holding compound. The moment we opened the back of the van, he jumped out excitedly like a dog who's just been released into the park after a long car ride. 'Wheeeee!' he yelled jovially. He immediately began digging in the sand, chasing prarie dogs, and marking his territory.

"The team snuck back into the van while he was distracted. He noticed we were leaving without him the moment we started the engine. As we pulled away, he managed to latch on to the rear bumper and get dragged along the dirt. I had to climb into the back of the van while we were moving, open the door, and smack him with a broom handle until he fell off. The entire time he was yelling "Shit fuck Nascar 'taters!" over and over again in rapid succession. That was the last I ever saw of him."

Well, with that lovely account, I can clearly see Daltonius has further spiraled downward into his neverending oblivion. I can hardly wait to talk to him. I will provide a full transcript of the interview after it is completed.