Oi.

  Oi.

  O~i~.

  I’m talkin’ to you.

  Right here cunt.

  Right in front of ya.

  The hell were you waiting for? My fist to pop outta the screen and scuff ya right on the nose?

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  Load of haughty bastards, I swear. You and the last one to bother opening the prologue. Guy before that wasn’t too shabby but last I checked his timeline’s coming to a close next tuesday so we won't be seeing much of him. RIP Eric Letterman I guess.

  In any case, well done making it here! Hope the time you waste on this page fills some of that empty hole you’ve been shoveling fast food fiction into lately. Who knows? Maybe when this garbage piece of literature pewters out it’ll take the embarrassing time wasting habit you’ve cultivated with it. Some kind of murder-suicide type scenario? But I wouldn’t hold out hope if I were you, we both know this is only one of many dreadful projects you’re following and addiction runs DEEP in the bloodline doesn’t it? Unless your mother never bothered to talk to you about that…? Oops, call it a faux pax on papa Blue-Tongue’s part.

  But while you’re here you may as well settle the fuck down and buckle the fuck up for this shit-show of a story I’m boutta unfold in front of you. God knows John will appreciate the attention.