Introduction of Bucksnort.

My brain quit and said it would stop thinking five years ago. It said that it wasn’t ready to die, and it decided to still let my lungs breath, and heart beat and kidneys function and liver detoxify, but it wouldn’t think. I have not had an original thought since I was 19. I am now 24, a living zombie. My flesh is shiny and clean, I have the latest toys in the following areas: Masturbators, photography, computers, cooking, and passive entertainment (TV and satellite). I used to have such vivid dreams, where there was color, and life and greatness, now I just close my eyes and wake up at 8:30 every goddamn morning. It doesn’t matter if I close my eyes at 3 am or 11 pm the night before, I still wake up at 8:30 am. I have been very grateful that my penis still works, which means, I can still fuck. Fucking requires no imagination, just insert and thrust. Life has become meaningless, without imagination there is only damnation.
Since I was already damned, I went ahead and made a deal with the Devil. The deal was this: my soul for an imagination. I was very specific, that I didn’t want a lame imagination that had no depth, think Homer from the Simpson’s. Nor, did I want an imagination that was so complex and vast that the weight and frequency of ideas would drive me insane. I didn’t want to end up in an insane asylum. I asked for an imagination that would bring color back in my dreams, and ideas to write cool books and inspire people. I even had the balls to ask for an imagination that would help me find a way to not end up in hell after I die. The devil laughed and laughed at that, saying, “You sir, have balls. I like men with a nice big set of balls, epically if said balls are able to suggest the king of hell to put a loophole in his own contract.” I am not sure if he was serious or not until he showed me the place in hell where he keeps his marketing and branding teams, you know, to soften his image a bit. He said after I die I can work there. At least I wouldn’t have to wallow in a pit of fiery earth, or be anal rammed every day and I can still use that shiny imagination.
After I made my deal with the Prince of Darkness, I set out to write my first novel, “The Fiery One”. Which, I am sure you all know, was an instant hit. Soon after my first novel was published, I pumped out another bestseller, “Nighttime”. So far I have written five bestsellers and I already have two more books in my publisher’s hands, which brings the total to seven books in a four year period. Not bad. I am racking in the dough, meeting and banging hot chicks, living the life of my hero Hank from Californication.
I know, I know many of you are thinking that I am wasting my vast imagination on such childish personal things like wealth acquisition and that my brain was right to quit. But hey, I have given quite a lot to charity; I just haven’t found a cause to champion yet, are writers allowed to do that? I mean Angela Jolie or Madonna can have their projects to better the world, but I am busy writing and banging. You don't see Stephen King tell his readers to help the Sudanese, or end worldwide slavery. Besides, I only have time to cut checks.
Anyway, I hope you enjoy my next book that comes out in November, titled “Naked Death” It’s about this guy who dies naked and how he ended up there. Hope you like it!