Preface

You are a fool are you not? Here you find yourself lying in the middle of a rather dirty kitchen floor enduring repetitive bruising from the harsh kicks of your sibling while listening to obscure Broadway show tunes at exactly eleven twenty in the evening. After taking an extensive breath and rolling heavily onto the shoe of the somewhat annoying sibling, I and possibly you as well deem this to be the case. If you, like me find yourself in this somewhat annoying situation often enough that you have bruises under your ribs every day and constantly find the music to "Little Abner" floating through your mind at very innappropriate moments, then may you like me contemplate on the possibility that a somewhat confused orange fish sitting in a rather dirty mason jar emulates your possession of legs at this very moment, and unless you emulate this somewhat confused orange fish, you have everything you ever wanted in the middle of a somewhat dirty kitchen floor. If this preface and subsequently the rest of this book makes little sense to you or I, do not panic. A college proffessor with 4 master degrees attempting to wade through the annoying and unenlightened language, absent imagery and misunderstood metaphors would more than likely give up halfway through and spend the rest of his life wading somewhere else. preferrably the exotic location of a mental assylum. However, if you have no problem in ignoring various literary devices and other components of upper class literature, then I am happy to say that though you might not thouroughly enjoy this book, you will not end up in an assylum filled with very acocmplished collegiate proffessors.
As this concludes my warning, preface, and obituary of the book, my compliments and condolences for you, my one and only friend.