Welcome to Cline Country, friends! Feel free to kick back and make yourself at home, but before you crack open your first cold one, we have a few important details to review.

For purposes of orientation, Cline Country comprises the old Cline Family Country Cabin, the vast cornfield that surrounds the cabin for miles in every direction, and the windowless shed in the side yard. For your convenience, we’re located only a short drive from an eerily well-preserved ghost town and some of the finest fishing this side of the churning void in the cornfield from which the darkness that makes Cline Country strong and virile sluices ceaselessly.

We have found that many of our guests like to begin their stay by reciting the following statement aloud, preferably in a detached monotone:

I fear not the corn that can kill my body, but rather the Corn that can destroy both body and soul in hell, which is why I offer to the Corn my prayers and supplications that should I not return the bocce ball set to the hallway closet my lifeblood be sufficient penance.

The clean air and outdoor recreation of Cline Country affects everyone differently. You may feel calmer and more serene. You also may notice your eyes are bleeding and that you posses the ability to communicate with lower forms of consciousness. Urinating uncontrollably for hours at a time as the impurities of your unsanctified flesh leave your body in long, powerful torrents is also quite common—but nothing to worry about.

Your stay in Cline Country will go smoothly as long as you follow a few simple, mostly intuitive, rules:

1. Never go in the shed.

2. Never openly speculate about what became of the Cline Family.

3. On your first night in Cline Country, enter the cornfield and arrange any boxer briefs you may have brought into the shape of a pentagram. Do not look back to see what becomes of your unclean garments–for this is not for mortal eyes.

4. Always turn off the outside lighting before going to bed. Then stand in the darkness facing the corn and say, “When I gaze into the abyss the abyss gazes back into me.”

5. Separate your recycling. 

6. Renounce your God.

7. And, most importantly, remember to have fun!

If any if these laws are broken, at the appointed hour the Sheriff will step out of the corn and with a voice sepulchral say, "Y’all don’t look like you’re from around here-uh.” Then His awful judgment will begin. Should this happen, I pray you were a thoughtful enough guest to share one of your favorite paperbacks with our whimsical Little Free Library in the shape of a miniature grain silo. Because he will check.

Feel free to submit any lighthearted anecdotes, pictures from your time in Cline Country, or appeals for salvation to our newsletter, The Cline Country Chatterbox. Most editions of the Chatterbox are typed transcripts of old Rush Limbaugh radio broadcasts, but we like to include local color whenever it’s available. To submit to the Chatterbox, simply bury your pictures or correspondence in the backyard and make a small blood sacrifice over them.

If you need anything from me (your nameless host and mere servant of the Corn), approach the shed—careful never to go in the shed—while slowly singing “Rainy Days and Mondays." Then loudly state your request and avert your eyes.

Lastly, please remember to give Cline Family Country Cabin a positive review on Airbnb. At a time when most corn-fed syncretistic death cults are struggling to stay afloat financially, every reservation with Cline Family Country Cabin helps preserve our way of life until such time that the Corn washes over the Earth like a perfect black tide, awakening the many-eyed Beast from his ancient slumber.

That just about covers everything… Now nothing left to do but relax!