Hey dudes, I have no idea
what's wrong with me. I've slept almost continuously for 48 hours...
and still feel tired, achy. Grrr! A special thanks to Rival for
taking over yesterday or I'd have had no blog at all. At any rate his
book sounds exciting and I'm going to let him talk a little more
about it here and there as we go along.
But for today I was
thinking you might like a short excerpt from the next book I just
signed a contract for. It is unedited and also for women, not teens
and so the language is much more.... offensive. However we'll give it
a go:
Diaries of the Cheshire
Girls
By Hatter
If you're looking for a
happy, light-hearted story then get out while you can. If romantic
comedy's your thing or say flowery, poetic garbage like that, just go
back to that epic misconception of how the real world works and leave
me alone. If you like trite inspirational and meaningless stuff like
that don't read any further. If angry is your thing then you've come
to the right place. The thing you need to know right now is that this
story... my story... the story of Chelsea O'Hara starts in death.
If all you envision in
your tiny, little life is entrance to the Gates of Heaven, then I'd
suggest you run like hell. My life, my inner ME, my gentle
disposition was spawned in a gutter and I will not be moved. So if
you're one of those do-gooder's that's lookin' to save a soul then
let me save you a little time. In my world Wonderland comes in the
form of a drug-induced coma. I'll never reach the light.... but then
I'm not looking to. Just a nicer gutter and a better fix. If that's
not available... a crappier gutter and a mediocre fix'll do. Whatever
it takes right?
Because just like all of
you mamby-pamby wanna-bes out there, I'd do anything for my God. The
difference is my God is real. You can touch my God... you can snort
him, smoke him, swallow him, inhale him, inject him or drink him....
whatever you're into really. It takes all kinds right? In my church
we never turn anyone away... but like any temple the problems start
with the money-changers. Isn't it always the way?
And suddenly I see...
All of these people are
swarming around me. I don't know them. I'm not certain what's going
on but I can't feel my legs which tickles in a way. My arm hurts real
bad. They are trying to put an oxygen mask on me but I am fighting
them tooth and nail. They wanna take away my high. They wanna take
away my low. They wanna take away my numb... my perfect numb so screw
them. I feel this unbearable buzz in the back of my skull and I start
to flail and writhe... some kind of seizure maybe. Please give me
more. Please give me heaven.... the heaven of numb.
Flat
line.
That's
my side of it,
Angel
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