Hello friends and faggots, Many of you know me as a story teller, which is a polite way of saying 'liar.' But the yarn I spin this moment is in fact 100% true. I feel the need to share it because it borders on the fantastic and the terrible. It was... a most glorious victory! For those who remember, when I lived in the big city (by Canadian standards, anyway) I was employed as a grocery store junior manager. and I stole A LOT of money to fuel my gram a day drug habit. I've not worked there for the last half a year, so naturally I assumed my ill money making days were over and done with. But long story short, they are not! I've been so broke. So broke and sober, down and out, that I've taken to using my own terrible blend of secret magics to influence the world. Say what you will, think what you might - the shit works. It's no Wicca fag magick. It's the real deal. I prayed for money to a devil mask I once used to curse an old enemy, which led to his ruination in exactly the way I requested. So again, I prayed for a vulgar thing - MONEY. Lots of it. FLASHBACK OVER HALF A YEAR AGO. I tried to sue my company for reasons I won't go into. The old manager laughed in my face and told me I wouldn't get a dime. But today, I am the one who is laughing. Two days after my ritual was complete, I came home [today] to find a giant letter in the mail marked CONFIDENTIAL. I opened it up to reveal a litany of legal mumbo jumbo. In short, the company is paying me five thousand dollars (you read that right, ass-faggot) to a) keep my mouth shut over some things I saw / was asked to do for the store, and the best part, b) that I basically never work for them ever again. So, in one month and some days, after I submit the papers and agree to their terms, I will be five thousand dollars more rich. And I am dead serious. All this right after I got hired by a head shop to sell bongs and dildos. In an instant, all my money worries have been cured. I credit my amazing magical powers, and my shrewd, near Jewish level of manipulating the laws and egos of big wigs. On finding out the good news, my dad - ever tactful - suggested that in a month and one ultra pay day later, he expects to find me keeled over, dead in a gutter with a needle sticking from my vein. I can only hope so. TH-TH-THAT'S ALL, FUCKS. ps. ive already begun making plans to buy up some oddities that i've had my eyes on; namely, a double headed, pickled pig and a plasticized human brain. Also, army man Iwo Jima! There's a really young girl, also, who treats herself like my pet who is insistent on living in my new pad, once i get paid. she's cute, but it's platonic - but she actually acts like my pet. I am so close to living a hell on earth. the gravy train, baby! Soon I'll be awash in sick trophies and a criminally underage girl / pet. I have no scruples. Life is good. It's rewarding my bad behaviour. tl;dr? five grand for being a bad ass, baby!! EDIT: naturally, when i get paid, i'll find a way of taking a picture of my bank statement, i suppose, for proof. because i understand this is a tall tale to take in one's unbelieving bum.