Chapter One: An Innocuous Plea to Get You on My Side (Even Though I Have Nothing to Offer, Like the People I Will Be in Immediate Contact with Might)
|Lovely locals from Solid Gold|
I am neither saint nor devil. I am not here nor there. I don't exist in the classical sense, yet I am part of your peripherals. I am nothing and everything. I am Herman Hesse's Abraxas; Earth Mother, troglodyte and demon deity. My predictions on football (read: soccer) are top notch, bar none and all-encompassing truths. I know a thing or two.
I also know that light switches need to be clicked up and down at least three times before we are sure they are properly turned off. Maybe I have some compulsions, maybe I don't. Whatever I got, works for me.
I've had the small journalistic fortune to be awarded certain jobs by my sheriffs that stem completely out of my norm. As much as I'd like to liken myself to Stephen King's "Gunslinger" in the Dark Tower series or to Zane (Xanathos) in Pierce Anthony's Incarnations of Immortality opus, I'm but a shadow cast in late August.
Bottom line is, I'm the last guy you'd like involved in the midst of violent gonad purges. Aside from ostensibly pretentious musings of the high order concerning pornography; know this my sweet readers, all three of you: I have nothing against this multi-million enterprise.
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