I Never Send A Story Off Until

I Was The Green Monkey, The Pariah. And I Had No Friends. Not Just A Few Friends, Or One Good Friend, Or Grudging Acceptance By Other Misfits And Outcasts. I Was Alone. All Stinking Alone, Without Even An Imaginary Playmate.

Like A Wind Crying Endlessly Through The Universe, Time Carries Away The Names And The Deeds Of Conquerors And Commoners Alike. And All That We Were, All That Remains, Is In The Memories Of Those Who Cared We Came This Way For A Brief Moment.

The Trick Is Not Becoming A Writer. The Trick Is Staying A Writer.

I See All. I Hear All. I Know All. And I Spend A Great Deal Of Time In The Bathroom.

I Will Use Big Words From Time To Time, The Meanings Of Which I May Only Vaguely Perceive, In Hopes Such Cupidity Will Send You Scampering To Your Dictionary: I Will Call Such Behavior 'public Service'.