And my severed pinky. I wondered how that got in there.

Something emerged from the ground in front of me. I hoped it was a bag of gold instead of a zombie.

The object broke free to the surface.

It was a tombstone. The inscription read "Graverob This, Asshole."

Another tombstone burst out of the ground: "R.I.P. Andrew Mayhem." Then another: "R.I.P. Helen Mayhem." Theresa and Kyle Mayhem followed.

Hundreds of tombstones burst through the ground. One emerged directly underneath my feet, knocking me to the ground. As I fell I hit my head on a tombstone, knocking off the top half of my skull.

I lost consciousness for a few years.

When I recovered, I yanked off my new beard and realized I was surrounded by millions of tombstones. They were so close together that the people had to be buried standing up, or several bodies deep. Or else they were really tiny people.

I bellowed in terror, just for the hell of it.

Goblin made his way through the tombstones. My arch-nemesis was looking bad, his face a patchwork of scars and gashes, but I had to admit his cyborg makeover did look pretty cool.

"Andrew," he said, nodding politely.

"Goblin," I said, returning his nod.

"Why aren't you digging?" he asked.

I shrugged. "Dunno."

"Don't you know where you are?"

I looked around without moving my head. The iron gates read " Sanity Cemetery."

"I'm in Sanity Cemetery," I replied. "Duh."

"Your sanity is buried here, Andrew," Goblin informed me.

"I'm insane?"

"Yes."

"That sucks."

"Surely you don't think all of this is real, do you?"

One of my tongues popped out of my mouth and oozed along the ground like a speedy slug. "Dunno."

"You must dig," Goblin said. He peeled off one of his scars like a sticker. "Dig deep."

"With what?"

Goblin pointed to my right arm. It had become a shovel.

"Ah, thanks," I said.

"Dig."

Okay, I'd dig. Digging was fun.

A tombstone in front of me read "Casket For Sale (Only Used Once). Serious Inquiries Only, Please." A red X glowed in the dirt in front of it. I wondered if this could be some sort of sign.

I began to dig. It wasn't easy, because when you're digging with a regular shovel you use your feet to slam it into the ground, but I couldn't do that because the shovel was my arm, and so it was pretty awkward at first and it kind of hurt my back, not to mention the whole weirdness factor of having my own arm be a shovel, I mean, the tongues were weird, too, but at least they were just multiples of a standard body part, while a shovel was a completely foreign appendage to the human body.

At least the ground was soft.

"Gonna dig that grave, gonna dig it deep," I sang, as a chorus of souls in torment accompanied me. "Gonna dig my sanity right out of the dirt."

"He's gonna dig his sanity right out of the dirt!" sang the tormented souls.

Helen Mayhem. Why did that name sound so familiar?

Oh, right. Because she had the same last name as me.

I dug and dug and dug. Worms squirmed out of the sides of the hole and recited non-rhyming poetry to me.

Theresa Mayhem sounded familiar, too.

Oh, right. The last name thing again.

The hole was now well over six feet deep. That damn tombstone better not have been lying about the casket for sale.

Kyle Mayhem. That name also rang a bell. I couldn't quite put my finger on why it rang that bell, or what particular bell it rang, but…

Was he my son?

My arm-shovel struck casket.

I crouched down and brushed away the soil. It was a pretty nice casket. I wondered why somebody would sell it.

I threw open the lid.

My brain was inside.

I picked it up, careful to use both hands so I didn't drop it. It was lighter than I expected.

Helen. Theresa. Kyle.

Where was I supposed to put this brain? I did a quick check and saw that the top of my skull was still missing. "Hey, Goblin, watch this!" I said, tossing my brain up into the air as high as I could.

Helen in my arms, the baby in her womb…

My brain sailed back down to earth. I positioned my skull just right.

Helen almost breaking every bone in my hand during labor with Theresa…

Almost there… almost there…

Kyle, the most beautiful baby ever born in the entire world, even with that gook all over him…

Perfect catch!

"I'm sane!" I cried out. "In your face, multiple tongues!"

I kicked tombstones out of the way as I did my victory lap. They scattered to the wind like playing cards. "Goooooooo Team Mayhem! Woo-hoo!"

I smacked into a tree.

Then I threw up.

I tried to spit the extra tongues out of my mouth, but they weren't there.

My finger hurt. At least the stump did.

I braced myself against the tree and vomited again. What a horrible, horrible nightmare, but it was already starting to fade…

No, it wasn't. Nothing was fading but the visions.

I wasn't a demon slayer. I was a husband and a father and a best friend.

And a madman.

I'd tried to kill Helen.

I'd stabbed Theresa.

The reality of the situation hit me with such force that for several long moments I could do nothing but stand there, gasping for breath.

One of the tombstones fluttered past my ear and faded away.

I bent over, but there was nothing left to vomit. I dry heaved a few times, and then wiped off my mouth and desperately tried to figure out what to do.

It didn't take long to come up with the answer. Of course, it was a vague answer, not particularly helpful, and without a plan of action attached to it, but at least I knew I had to get back to my family and get them to safety.

Chapter Twenty-Two

I HADN'T GONE FAR into the woods, and as I emerged onto the road Hele n had just finished getting Theresa into the limousine. She looked over at me. It was going to take crates of chocolate, truckloads of roses, and the combined efforts of Hallmark's finest to get me out of this one.

"I'm fine now," I said, keeping my distance. "I swear I'm fine now."

"How do I know that?"

"Well… you won't hear me babbling about being a demon slayer anymore."

Helen didn't respond.

"They gave me some weird drug," I said. "I don't know what it was, but they injected me with it and it turned me into a… it turned me into somebody who would do what I did. But it wasn't me."

"I know," Helen said.

"Is there a gun in the car?" I asked. "Duct tape, maybe? Some way for you to be sure I won't hurt you? I won't, I swear I won't, but I don't expect you to believe me. I could ride in the trunk."

"There's duct tape."

"How's Theresa?"

"You hurt her bad."

I forced myself to fight back tears. "She'll be okay, right?"

"She needs medical attention as soon as possible. I've patched her up with what I could find but she lost a lot of blood. Andrew, I have to go."

"No! I need to go with you! Helen, I know you don't trust me and I don't expect you to, but Roger and Samantha are still in serious danger, and we have to save them! And the rest of the maniacs could be here any-"

Witch came around the corner.

She was walking, holding a revolver, and looked completely beat.

"Don't move," she said, pointing the gun at me. "Just stay where you are."

I raised my hands in the air. Helen looked uncertain about whether she should take the risk of trying to get into the limousine.

Witch stopped about ten feet away from us. "This is all bullshit," she said, her voice a monotone. "We're not getting out of this one, I can feel it. I had to help kill a man who didn't even know I loved him. I just don't care anymore." She shook her head sadly. "All of you can run. Maybe you'll get away, maybe you won't, but either way, it's not my problem."