Shall I even attempt to tame my vitriol? I've been duped again by the wretches who surround me and I say, I'm none the better for it.
Last week, as you may recall, I was in one of my better recent moods. Pork Pony announced to me that they had recorded a theme song based on some of my writing. This excited me for I figured that the foolish naïfs I'd been working for had finally acquired some taste.
The horrid lot of them put David Kendall up to "singing" this song. First off, the bastard's voice sounds like Mickey Rooney after an opium binge. I do not lie, listen for yourself. Secondly, he was obviously drunk. A few days ago I found a bizarre plastic whiskey jug outside Mr. Kendall's office. It was empty, of course. When I presented it to the man himself, he explained that it was a special "grip it and sip it" bottle. Slightly telling? Yes. Lastly, the dunderhead openly slanders me in this song. To this, I do not know how to reply.
After flying high on the hopes that I'd finally broken through to this herd of below average, sheep-minded simpletons, the delivery of this song nearly brought death's rusty scythe to my throat. Hearing such awful things said about oneself can be rather damaging. I was crushed and appalled by the slander and depression fell upon me like a mid-monsoon mudslide. Alas, dear reader, there is always light at the end of the tunnel for Stuart Gimble.
Today my beacon beam, my guiding glow is the fire of war. Not war in the physical sense; war on the psychological plane. I will not rest until I have personally sucked the creative soul from every Pork Pony writer. Sleep will not be my companion until these fools see the world my way. They will be mere shadows of Stuart Gimble, dust in the shape of this great writer.
Victory will be mine.