I wouldn't really call myself a writer; but marinating in nothingness brings more fulfillment to my life. Anyway, I digress from the point of this tale.The reason you're reading this is probably cause you've heard some rumor thats been completely blown out of proportion, you want to know what messed up in my life to lead this crazy series of events you think that you heard your boss maybe say to his secretary at the pub last night. Well nothing really happened, i'm just a little crazy (haha). Or maybe you're one of those PC nuts who thinks because i didn't have a "whole" family bringing up i'm damaged goods. My mother isn't a great person, i don't even really consider her a person. But i mean if there was one thing that woman has taught me is to tolerate. I really hate idiots. I believe that every person is born with some level of competancy and that if they fail to utilize it well then; its just bloody annoying. I also hate that word "utilize" such a wanky word. Anyway i'll start at the beginning because thats where everyone seems to start. I was working; if you could call it that. I was sitting on the front counter down at Egg's. Egg is a fat man, looks a bit like an egg, pretty unfortunate. Anyway he owned a killer record shop that i guess i worked in. Basically he payed me to scowl at people with bad taste. Like this punk that was in at the time of the incident. He clearly was not interested in Vivaldi; i mean really? But he was with some girl so at least he was trying. So the two lovers are up in the back corner looking at the four seasons. When this guy comes in, being all cliche dodgy villain like, with a big black trench coat, a slightly too tight bowler hat and a thin black cane for his nonexistant limp. He went and stood right in front of me standing over the Mahler records. He had one of those skin folds on his neck just looked a bit fatty. I didn't see his face when he came in but i was guessing it was hard and mean. I just stood there studying him and smoking. Dirty habit i know. "You dont't even really like Mahler." i callled out. Looking back this was an idiot move. I saw him freeze and just stand there not breathing, just stuck. "Bruckner, Maybe?" He slowly turned. I stepped back, his face had been mutilated. A thin line had been drawn across his face