I’ve come a long way since my days as an orphan pickpocket. I’ve grown and matured into a fine young gentleman. Yes, a lot of my riches were aquired from things I stole, or the people I stabbed. But there’s more to my lavish life style than just material objects. I had to learn how to talk like a sophisticate. To articulate myself in a snobbish, yet poetic way, to impress my pretentious friends. I did that mainly by adding the word “enthusiast” to everything that I enjoy. It made my lowbrow or borderline stupid interests sound amazing. You can try it on your own time though, because I don’t want to hear it right now. This is about me, and I’ll cut you a red smile from ear to ear if you interrupt me! I’m sorry, that was uncalled for. You can take the boy off the streets, but you can’t take the streetrat out of the boy. Where were we? Oh yes, enthusiast…
1. Wine enthusiast– My mom drank the stuff constantly when I was in the womb. So you could say I started drinking at an early age. Think of the umbilical cord as a beer bong connected to your stomach. Except instead of beer it was cheap boxed wine. I don’t blame her though, because I would’ve been drinking it regardless. It’s cheap, tastes great, and you get a ton. So many flavors too. My favorite is the Sangria. Drink a box of that, and you’ll wake up outside everytime. Guaranteed. I guess you could say my mom loved it to death.
2. Saxophone enthusiast– I don’t understand why so many songs lack saxophones these days. A good solo can spice up the mood, get the party started, or even incite a revolution. Saxophones were the only thing that kept me going after my mom passed. I was living in Murder Alley at the time, and they came as a sweet relief. Either from street musicians or from blasting radios in apartments above me. When I wasn’t witnessing murders, I was fighting to survive. I fought cats, giant rats, and vagabonds on a daily basis. If it wasn’t for the saxophone solo in Billy Ocean’s “Caribbean Queen,” I’d probably still be there.
3. Train enthusiast– I did a lot of freighthopping, or “riding the rails,” during my teen years. As long as you didn’t get caught by the railroad police, you got yourself a free ride. My only advice would be to keep to yourself, and always carry a blade. Those hobos are a lonely bunch if you catch my drift. They just want to be loved like everybody else, but sometimes they aren’t very patient about it. Luckily I had my training on the streets, and only had to kill two men over the four years. Plus the great thing about a moving train, is when you a throw a dead body off something moving that fast, you’re long gone by the time they find it. If the vultures leave anything behind that is.
4. Art enthusiast– Once I moved onto stealing bigger and better things, art was one of them. I partook in a lot of heists during that time of my life. Friday night we’d do a museum, then Saturday hit a mansion. No big deal really. That’s where I made most of my fortune, dealing in the art black market. People always ask how I know so much about art. But to tell you the truth, it’s just so I know how much I can sell them for. But don’t worry, I’m not completely void of appreciation. I kept all the naked lady paintings for myself.
5. Exercise enthusiast– Every weekend I hold “invite only” cage matches in an underground bunker, beneath my mansion. This is another way I make my money. I take a house percentage for hosting the fights. But it’s not like that sissy UFC stuff you see on TV. These are death matches. Bare knuckle, with only one rule- There are no rules. If you don’t attempt an eye gouge, fish hook, or groin punch in the first round, you’re disqualified. And disqualified is just another way of saying death by fire ants. So be a man (or woman) and get your licks in. Besides a good cardio workout, you can actually say you know what it’s like to kill a man. Oh and you get stacks of cold hard cash, with complementary blood splatters on them.