October 29, 1655

....the executioner had fashioned a noose of tree bark and tar. he whispered into my ear as he pulled it tighter around my neck, "you will pay for your atrocities." i however kept quiet, as to not upset the ever-growing crowd that gathered around the gallows. 14 children died that day, several more permanently blinded. all because i was rubbing one out on my porch roof, just like i do every sunday morning. "the world is a mad place", i said to myself.

essentially, this was the second time i would die. I had succumbed to scarlet fever at the ripe age on 16, in my mother's arms. days later i awoke in a shallow grave, only to return home and frighten her to death. the irony still chaps my ass.

the ground gave way below me, and there i hung. i could feel their eyes upon me, burning my very soul. i saw my body from above. "I FUOCHI DI INFERNO LA SALUTERANNO, TOBESLERONE", the crowd cheered. the fathers pulled me down and placed me upon a timid wooden boat. the coals were lit and my body, too, began to burn.

...14 days later i awoke upon the shores of sicily. here i would begin the next chapter of my shit life.

- excerpt, Tobeslerone - shut the fuck up when i'm talking to you, the memoirs of Tobeslerone.