“Hold up a mere minute. You mean to tell me YOU wrote that book!? The one that EVERYBODY’S been talking about. Holy shit, I honestly can’t believe it. The characters, the places, the goddamn set-up! How the f… lipping hell, you’re awesome… an awesome individual indeed. Shake my hand, man. Shake my whatever you damn well like!”
I could not tell the poor fucker I only looked like that writer, which was a good compliment in and of itself.
“It was easy, really. I just thought about it, dropped the shackles of a readership from round my shoulders and went for it.”
He was happier than anything I’d ever seen, drunk-happy. A real fucking nut. The type I revelled in. First his wallet, then his house, then his woman. Eye contact and a cool demeanour was my key. My in. My absolute everything. My one hundredth victim and the princess was Asking For It. I’d need to be reading a good book tonight though. Par for.

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