Oh wait, oops, that's not me. Sometimes I get myself mixed up with the manbitch's *good friends* ... "Pfft, he wishes."

Yeah, so what do you want to know? Someone just asked me today in an e-mail if I was a writer or if it was just a hobby. Well, it's just a hobby ... or maybe compulsion would be a better word for it. At least that's the deal until the day Wells calls me up and hires my ass. Which, personally, I think would be a very good idea.

So what do I write? Mostly just these little stories that are here, some far-smuttier stories, and a lot of truly disturbing dialogues. Why? I don't know, it's fun. Besides, practice makes perfect. So if there's ever a great demand for fucked-up nonsense, I'm good to go.

Anyway, "I got no time to waste small-talking, hop aboard baby or you're gonna be walking. Ride, ride, ride down the Pennsylvania Turnpike. Ride, ride, ride all night." Fred Wilhelm is obviously a *good friend* (or psycho, I mean PSYCHIC, like me) if he knows about the ridin all night. Hmm ...