Quick chapter of me bloody life: I saw a sad woman on a park
bench in London. I decided to lift her spirit with my story of a boy with magic
powers. She was so delighted she hit me on the back of me poor head. I spent
years in a coma or Stupefied while she was making endless pounds from my book.
I don’t blame anyone for not believing me. But did it ever occur to anyone why
she doesn’t make public appearances? Could it be she’s afraid she’ll see me in
the crowd of her fanatics? Does she fear being deader than a parrot in Monty
Python? Make me copyrighted words: I’ll see that witch burn like books at a
Nazi Rally!!! LOL like The Phantom of The Opera I will! Ms Rollins, is it now?
You should have buried me in the park when you had the chance. I have now unleashed
The Spell of Satire to properly kill you in front of your audience now mine.
Good night, dear
Do try to have sweet dreams of me smile.
Now which way to The Paris Review?
To Sleep, Perchance To Pitch Nightmares To DreamWorks: Real
Life Comic Book Cyber Journal Of The Better Angels Of Our Nature By Danny
Aponte of P.S 161
Chapter One: It was a dark and stormy Jedi knight of
journalism
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