This isn't my first go at selling Bibles.  Not by a long shot.  When you've been in (and out) of the business for as long as I have, you tend to build a history. But with every history, there's a beginning, and my beginning starts in San Diego with the Marines.

My introduction to the business began after I was kicked out of the U.S. Marine Corps for being 'Not adaptable to military life'.  I guess I resented authority figures of any kind.  So the Marines weren't a really solid fit for me. 

But in my short time there I learned that I had a power over others.  My fellow grunts tended to avoid me, making halting conversation, and laughing nervously when I approached them. 

I couldn't for the life of me figure out why I was so intimidating.  I was polite - rather than put down their infantile small-talk, I simply stared at them until they shuffled away.  I was merciful- when challenged to a fight, I quickly battered my opponent into unconsciousness without causing permanent injury.  I compromised - whenever someone complained about my cigarette smoke, I immediately stabbed the butt out on my bare arm, so as not to create a mess.

To this day I am peeved about this.

If it weren't for the strict hierarchy of authoritarianism, I could have done well in the Marines.  I liked guns, I liked knives, and I enjoyed killing people.  Instead, fate intervened and tossed me out of the Corps and into the streets of San Diego.

From there, I met a mime named ... well, I never knew his name, because the bastard never talked.  He died of a cardiac arrest which some might say was induced by my attempts to smother him.  Screw those people.

RATE THIS CHAPTER!