Well, It Was Bound To Happen At Some Point, Right?
There it was - the horror! - sitting there on the Internets for all to see ... a bad review of my novel, 99 Brief Scenes From the End of the World. Here's what this fucking motherfucking fuck had to say:
"This is more or less a typical dystopian/zombie apocalypse story, although the cause of the infection, and they way it manifests itself is somewhat unique. In general the writing is pretty good, but there are a lot of typos that should have been corrected in the editing process. Despite a quick start, the story was slow in developing, getting lost in too many stories of people getting mauled, and not enough time developing the characters. By the time the storylines gained some clarity my ability to care had all ready started to flag. Adding to my frustration was the inconclusive end. I suppose the author may have been keeping his options open for a sequal. God, I hope not." - 2/5 stars
You hated it so heartily that you hope to God Almighty that I might somehow be prevented from writing a sequel? For real? Like, you want Him to strike me blind, or take my fingers in a freak accident? Sheesh ...
Actually, it's not that bad a review. He gives his honest opinion, and that's what internet strangers will usually do. As an artist of any kind, you need to accept the differing views of others and FUCK THAT SHIT, I'LL DESTROY HIM, I'LL RAPE HIS FUCKING FACE hahaha just kidding, seriously. Anyway, he spelled "sequel" wrong, therefore his opinion in invalid. (MY typos are acceptable, however.)
Well, here's another story for this guy to hate on. Go ahead, dude, call upon the celestial powers-that-be to stop me from writing a sequel to this one, too:
To whoever finds this note: I know what I have to do now. The gun is loaded and ready. I'm so, so sorry - but it wasn't me who did this, you have to understand that. I'm not a monster. It was the dreams! For months now, at night I dream that I'm loping down the road and through the woods on all fours, fast and powerful. On the hunt. I feel so incredibly, ferociously alive, invincible ... I wake up naked and covered in the sweat of exertion, with the coppery taste of blood in my mouth - and dirt on my palms and feet.
Pretty soon, the neighbors began losing their pets. Sometimes, they'd find shreds of fur and bits of bone nearby. They blamed a rogue fox, and many of them repeatedly called animal control, demanding action. I tried to avoid talking to them about it, because I didn't want them to see the guilt on my face.
I've tried to live with this oddity in my life for as long as possible, and now ... now I dearly wish that I hadn't. You see, when I woke up very early this morning, there was blood on my teeth and under my nails, and my next door neighbor's truck was still in his driveway. He hadn't left for his midnight shift last night. The driver-side door was hanging open, and there was blood splattered all over the inside of the cab. I found his boot on his driveway, and followed the drag marks from there back into his house. I went in with my heart in my throat, and I saw what happened to them all. I'm so sorry. You must understand, it wasn't me who did this horrible thing ... it was the dreams.