Jack was a bastard, a real bastard as the story goes.
An Irishman of the old country, he liked nothing better than trickery, drinking and gambling and all the things that follow trickery, drinking and gambling - if you catch my meaning.
On the day of Jack's appointed death the Devil came to the bar to collect what was owed him.
Thinking quickly, Jack asked if he could at least finish his drink before being dragged off to hell for all eternity. Scratch being a fellow of good humour obliged him for as we all know forever is a very very long time indeed.
They spoke while they drank, until at last the Irishman began to question the validity of the Devil’s power. Jack dared the Devil, goaded him to prove by his might by transforming into a silver coin.
Ever since I was a kid my mother would correct my speech. I hated it, hell I still hate it but that doesn’t mean she was wrong to do so. It seems that we have collectively slipped into a culture of ‘likes’.
I like this (facebook) I don’t like that (still facebook) I was all like hey dude no way and then she was all like one direction is actually like, a band. I’m sure as you’re reading this you can see where this is going.
I was reading a comic the other day (10 Grand by JMS, very, very worth the read but more on that another time) the main character sits down and a girl (potential client) starts telling him her story. When she’s done he says to her "I like how you don’t like"
Myk Pilgrim is almost exactly just like you but with much less hair. He loves to make things up and write them down. This is his blog.