I hate the fact that I am procrastinating the creation of what is supposed to be the most controversial and godawesome novel ever known to man. It is by far legendary and to say it is a masterpiece would be an understatement. I cannot wait to hear critics blurt out praises instead of profanities that people usually hear when they open their mouths. I also cannot wait for it to top the charts as the numero uno best-selling novel man has laid his eyes upon, knocking down tree-wasting crap series of Twilights and Harry Potters. This will no doubt be the next best thing to the Bible. Unlike that, this is at the very least plausible and believable. Interviews and people asking me for autographs, shoving their copies furiously in mobs while I hastily run for cover in my not-so-cheap limousine with my celebrity girlfriend behind me cheering me on, mad as rabbits to be drowned in luxury, fortune and fame which are all, of course, provided only by me.
Oh, a boy can only dream.