The Introduction of Kill The Writer as read by Snoop Dogg

[Voice Offstage] : James Dean, give us an introduction, why dontcha? Jim? Jimbo? Where’s Jimbo?

Then we’ll just turn the mike over to our friend Monsieur de la Cruz from the Moulin Rouge! What do you have for us, Monty?

[Cruz] : Thanks Marshall, what I’ve got here are the first sea soaked pages of The Writer’s book Kill The Writer! Here to read the first chapter of the book is Mr. D-O Double G himself—Snoop Doggy Dogg!


I was born 1994. Mom and Dad had me in the usual way, then they brought me home. After that, they got to raising me. 1995 came around, and I was one; it wasn’t no big thing. I figure about everyone gets to one.

By the time I was two, I got to speaking. According to my parents, I spoke well right off the bat. We were driving and I was looking out the window, and when I saw a boat, I said, « I see a boat. »

I didn’t get to lying till I was about 3. About that time, I took a cookie from the cookie jar. When my parents asked me whereabouts that cookie got off to, I told them, « I dunno. »

1999 pulled up and I got real literary. I was taking classes at the local Kindergarten. The teachers told me I had a way with words. Now, when my parents asked me whereabouts the cookie went, I’d tell them, « It got to steppin’ and I ain’t seen it since. »

I saw some years go by, and I met some people while I was steppin’ along through life. I made a friend, and of all of the friends I made, I liked him best, so we played video games, and skateboarded, and we learned about the world together. He showed me music, women and drugs. In return, I gave him an audience. Then 2011 put him in jail, and I had all the music, women and drugs I could want, but I didn’t want them. I wanted my best friend, but that’s all 2011 left me, so I took them.

I saw 2012, and about that time we all thought the world was going to end. They even made a movie about it, and I saw it. I took a girl, too. That wasn’t anything special, I mean the way I see it, I figure about everyone took a girl to see that movie. In that way, I figure no one actually watched that movie.

I took that girl out a couple of times after that. We did all the things kids do when they’re in love, and we had sex, and it was nice, and not long after we broke up. I took her on a walk, and it was real sweet, but in the end I grabbed her hand and I looked her in the eyes and I said, « it’s not gonna work out. »

She was upset. A tear rolled down her eye, and I watched it drop from her cheek to the ground. It fell, and I think it fell slower than it should have, because it looked like a pretty heavy tear. She was upset, and she asked me,  « But, John, why? » And I was real good at lying, I mean, I’d been lying since ’97, and so I told her it wasn’t her, it was me. I told her how our love had got to steppin’ and I ain’t seen it since, but she didn’t believe me I guess, because she said, « Johnny, I don’t believe you. There has to be a reason. » An so she asked me if it was something she did. Maybe it was something she didn’t do. She asked me all kinds of innate things, but in the end all I could do was think about that tear, and wonder what kind of sound it made when it hit the ground.

2013 came around, and I graduated high school. I didn’t do too much figuring about that. Really, I figured back then about everyone got to graduate. I met a girl that year, and she was pretty cool. We had sex, and I took her out on a date, and after those two things I still thought she was pretty cool, so I asked her to be my girlfriend. She thought that would be pretty neat, but she was still seeing her ex, and I said that was fine, but then one day it wasn’t, and so I told her that. She told me okay, and that she liked me a lot, and she would tell her ex to go about his business elsewhere. A day went by, and I called her up. I asked her how it went, did you talk with him, and did you break things off. She said it went well, and she spoke with him, and no, they had sex instead and she didn’t get around to breaking things off with him.

I was sitting in a college classroom in 2014 when they told me that I could learn everything I ever needed to know just by going to the library. So by the end of 2014 I’d left that classroom for good, and started my career as a writer. I told my parents thank you; thank you for sending me to college, but I figure I know what I want to do with my life, and now that I got that sorted, I better get to stepping. Of course they asked me what it was that I wanted to do. So I told them:

“Mom. Dad. I want to be a writer.”

They told me fuck off, and I did, so here I am. 2014 wrapped up, and I had no friends, no love, no family, no job, but I read Slaughter House Five that year, and I learned that I did have friends, and a love, and my family still gave a shit, and I had lots of jobs, but I just wasn’t in the right spot in time.

I learned that in a library and it kept a bullet out of my head better than calculus, so I figure that one teacher was right.

Before I finish this introduction I would like to leave you with one small sample conversation:

You write pretty good, kid.”

I said, thank you.

“I think you got a bright future, kid.”

I told her, thanks.

“I mean, I’m reading what you’ve got here, and I gotta say, it’s brilliant. I ain’t never seen nothing like it. You write, and I see it. I see it like I’m standing there looking right at it. You know what I mean?”

I told her, I think I do, ma’am.

“So. Tell me, kid—what’s your secret?”

I told her,

“Write simply.”

That’s what I told my boss right before signing a contract with the local paper. I didn’t know it then, but Death was in that room with me that day. See, the way I figure, right as I was moving to sign with the local paper, Death went and slipped his own little contract over top the local paper’s contract. So, in short, I signed two contracts that day:

One for the local paper.

One for my own death.

Next Chapter


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