Post by Jester on Jul 2, 2006 16:52:23 GMT -5
I never had much luck. Not in sports, not in love. Definitely not at gambling.
So, looking back, dabbling with magic was not my smartest decision.
I'm sorry, I'm getting ahead of myself. My name is Antonio Giovanni.
I'm 21. I lived in Los Angeles with my family. My big family.
My dad is Don Giovanni, the head of the Giovanni crime family. So yeah, I'm a Mafia child. Not that i ever participated in that thing of theirs.
No, i had a relatively normal upbringing, going to school with all the other rich kids, hanging out with my friends
Friends? They where never your friends. They where the marionette's of your wallet, dancing to the tune of dead presidents.
SHUT UP!
Sorry bout that. As i said, i lived a normal life, surfing and going to school and stuff like that. You know, being ordinary. Sure, i couldn't help but notice how people treated my dad, the armed men or the the way my mother looked at him.
Seeing her you could tell she hadn't married my father by choice.
But things got bad. Real bad. My father got shoot, killed by his closest man. And killing the Don gave you a instant promotion, giving you his organization, his money and his home. Including his wife.
But even though he wanted my mother he didn't want me.
So i was thrown out. 15 and homeless. Like all those kids you see on TV.
I always liked the sea, so i made that my home. Under the dock to be precise. I had found this old tent that i lived in, just close enough to hear the waves.
And at first it was tough, scouring for food and wearing the same clothes for weeks.
But i learned, and soon finding food was easy, and stealing clean clothes was cakewalk.
And once i got my hands on a surfboard i even managed to have some fun.
Three years went by, and i started forgetting about my life as the son of a Don.
But then i saw my mom, taking a walk on the beach. I hardly recognized her, she looked so...cold. Like she given up, just stopped caring. I heard her talking to herself, asking god what she had done to deserve it. I was just about to approach her, talk to her when she...she...she
Just say it you big muskrat. She shoot herself. She put the gun to her head and BANG! Blow her mind out with the metal tip of a 9 millimeter. The bullet splattering her brains all over the beach, scooping out the soft squishy insides like a kid eating ice cream on a hot summer day.
I SAID SHUT UP! SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP!
Why can't you just leave me alone. Just get out of my head.
It was all his fault. He did it to her, he made her do it. She had been just fine when she was with my dad. He made her like that. All his fault.
So when i found that book, that horrible book, lying on a bench.
I saw my chance, my opportunity to get revenge.
I don't know how many times i read it, looking through it for the perfect spell. Just the right thing to hurt him back, get payback for all the pain and suffering he caused.
But i found the right one. It was perfect.
I made my way to my old home, waiting for him to show himself. And he did, his suit clad body taking it's place on the balcony.
So i began the incantation, feeling the spell burn beneath my skin, slithering through my veins. Then finally it was finished, and i released it.
But i never saw it's result. I never saw how his body twisted like modeling clay. How it was set ablaze and subjected to changes beyond three dimensions before it was thrown into the most horrible of hell dimensions.
No, i never saw any of that. I didn't see anything until i woke up at the top of a skyscraper. But the confusion was quickly washed away by the memories. The memories of HIM.
The laughing fool, the insane Harlequin. The Jester.
He had been born into my body, taking it over like some deranged puppeteer.
And it's been like that ever since, few moments of awareness between his months of control. It's impossible to tell you how it feels being in his head, knowing how he works. He's not like you and me, he's...something else.
He might have all the right parts, all the organs. But all it takes is a single second of insight into his brain to know he's not human. He's nowhere near human.
Perhaps that's why he doesn't remember me, not caring about the occasional day missing. But my moments are getting further and further between, and I'm afraid he might soon be in total control.
I can feel him coming back. Run, run as far away as you can. If he sees you, who knows what he might do.
But for what it's worth, thanks. Thanks for listening to my story.
So, looking back, dabbling with magic was not my smartest decision.
I'm sorry, I'm getting ahead of myself. My name is Antonio Giovanni.
I'm 21. I lived in Los Angeles with my family. My big family.
My dad is Don Giovanni, the head of the Giovanni crime family. So yeah, I'm a Mafia child. Not that i ever participated in that thing of theirs.
No, i had a relatively normal upbringing, going to school with all the other rich kids, hanging out with my friends
Friends? They where never your friends. They where the marionette's of your wallet, dancing to the tune of dead presidents.
SHUT UP!
Sorry bout that. As i said, i lived a normal life, surfing and going to school and stuff like that. You know, being ordinary. Sure, i couldn't help but notice how people treated my dad, the armed men or the the way my mother looked at him.
Seeing her you could tell she hadn't married my father by choice.
But things got bad. Real bad. My father got shoot, killed by his closest man. And killing the Don gave you a instant promotion, giving you his organization, his money and his home. Including his wife.
But even though he wanted my mother he didn't want me.
So i was thrown out. 15 and homeless. Like all those kids you see on TV.
I always liked the sea, so i made that my home. Under the dock to be precise. I had found this old tent that i lived in, just close enough to hear the waves.
And at first it was tough, scouring for food and wearing the same clothes for weeks.
But i learned, and soon finding food was easy, and stealing clean clothes was cakewalk.
And once i got my hands on a surfboard i even managed to have some fun.
Three years went by, and i started forgetting about my life as the son of a Don.
But then i saw my mom, taking a walk on the beach. I hardly recognized her, she looked so...cold. Like she given up, just stopped caring. I heard her talking to herself, asking god what she had done to deserve it. I was just about to approach her, talk to her when she...she...she
Just say it you big muskrat. She shoot herself. She put the gun to her head and BANG! Blow her mind out with the metal tip of a 9 millimeter. The bullet splattering her brains all over the beach, scooping out the soft squishy insides like a kid eating ice cream on a hot summer day.
I SAID SHUT UP! SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP!
Why can't you just leave me alone. Just get out of my head.
It was all his fault. He did it to her, he made her do it. She had been just fine when she was with my dad. He made her like that. All his fault.
So when i found that book, that horrible book, lying on a bench.
I saw my chance, my opportunity to get revenge.
I don't know how many times i read it, looking through it for the perfect spell. Just the right thing to hurt him back, get payback for all the pain and suffering he caused.
But i found the right one. It was perfect.
I made my way to my old home, waiting for him to show himself. And he did, his suit clad body taking it's place on the balcony.
So i began the incantation, feeling the spell burn beneath my skin, slithering through my veins. Then finally it was finished, and i released it.
But i never saw it's result. I never saw how his body twisted like modeling clay. How it was set ablaze and subjected to changes beyond three dimensions before it was thrown into the most horrible of hell dimensions.
No, i never saw any of that. I didn't see anything until i woke up at the top of a skyscraper. But the confusion was quickly washed away by the memories. The memories of HIM.
The laughing fool, the insane Harlequin. The Jester.
He had been born into my body, taking it over like some deranged puppeteer.
And it's been like that ever since, few moments of awareness between his months of control. It's impossible to tell you how it feels being in his head, knowing how he works. He's not like you and me, he's...something else.
He might have all the right parts, all the organs. But all it takes is a single second of insight into his brain to know he's not human. He's nowhere near human.
Perhaps that's why he doesn't remember me, not caring about the occasional day missing. But my moments are getting further and further between, and I'm afraid he might soon be in total control.
I can feel him coming back. Run, run as far away as you can. If he sees you, who knows what he might do.
But for what it's worth, thanks. Thanks for listening to my story.
