My friend- the great baron Diffin -is an honorable individual. He harbors no secrets, states no lies, upholds much justice and is humble in his endeavors of charity and goodwill.

  Truly, he is a good man.

  Unfortunately for him, I find good men boring and lacking in presence. Thus, I have decided to rid myself of him.

  Last night, I found my small knife beneath the kitchen hole (the hole where I hide my drugs in the kitchen) and went up to him in the middle of the street.

  I do not know how I (or he) have gotten to the middle of the street, and most notably during the daytime (not the time I had grabbed my small knife) but I do not care.

  I stabbed him in the eye, and twisted slowly, and slowlier still, until he turned and tumbled down into the road and got hit by a truck.

  How unfortunate for him.

  I was now home (again not knowing how I got there) and the night was deep.

  I placed the knife back in the place beneath the hole, and went to sleep.

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  The dreams I had were so pretty.

  The next day I went up to him during work and asked him how it felt for him to be dead.

  He laughed and called me “funny” and then waved me off.

  I cried that night.

  He was dead and yet still had the audacity to call me funny?

  I cried until my eyes bled and my brain splattered on the floor from exhaustion.

  How troublesome.

  The next day I walked up to the Devil and asked him to rid my friend from the depths of hell.

  He agreed and gave me a balloon.

  How sweet.

  The end.

  …

  The end.

  …

  Can you not read? I just wrote “The End”. The end! Are stupid, are you dumb?! Leave, go! You fucking idiot, I have finished with my grand tale! I am done, it is done!

  But I must say, was it not a fantastic work? The prose was excellent, and the plot ever so thrilling. Hmm? You don’t think so? Well how about I rip out your tiny little throat? Hmm? How will you feel then? Will you agree? I am the Devil, after all, and I am the best writer ever, in all of time. Hmm? You disagree? You foolish fool! You bumbling oaf? You carnivorous monster! You-

  ————

  People tried to ignore the man as he screamed randomly at the sky. It was a difficult task to do.

  The small, plump old man was quite loud, and very much crazy. Telling tales and screaming in one sided conversations, he was quite the eccentric.

  Eventually, after about twenty minutes of his incessant ramblings, a police officer grabbed him by the armpits and dragged him to the station, where the news later claimed he was placed in the cell, and never taken out.