Acknowledgements
J.D. Riso
I would like to express my heartfelt gratitude
to the following people without whom this novel would never
have been written.
First and foremost, I’d like to thank my
father for calling me “sissy boy”. His searing contempt
pissed me off enough to make me rebel. Dad, I hope you come
across this book during your graveyard shift as janitor at the
public library.
I’m especially grateful to my mother for
pretending that everything was peachy and ignoring my pain.
“Why can’t you be more like your father? He’s
a real man! What are ya, queer like Uncle Butch?” she
nagged. I had no choice but to channel my rants and raves into
writing. Have fun bragging about this at your weekly Overeaters
Anonymous meetings, Mom. And don’t ask me for an autograph,
either.
My tenth grade English teacher, Mr. Livingstone,
was particularly influential in my formative years. Without
his scathing, spittle-flecked tirades about my work, my fire
might have been snuffed out. Have another Valium on me, you
toupee-wearing fascist! Without you, I would have ended up just
like you.
Then there were my peers who sneered at my aspirations,
my so-called friends who turned their backs on me when I was
down. Hey, I didn’t need you all anyway! To you, my friends,
I flip the ultimate bird.
Over the years, my English 101 students were unceasingly
scornful of my tweed jackets with the elbow patches, my well-gnawed
pipe. They snickered during my passionate litanies on Proust
and the decline of literature. I hope you enjoyed yourselves,
my dear children, for I’m sure that the rest of your lives
won’t be so amusing given that you’ll never rise
above a career in retail.
It gives me much satisfaction to mention my ex-girlfriend,
Katie, who ripped out my heart and fed it to the dogs. Her gleeful
cruelty was the spark that set this novel into action. Oh yes,
my sweet, you are faithfully rendered within these very pages.
But don’t even think of crawling back to me.
Of course, the media’s obsession with fame
caused me to set lofty, unrealistic goals. There’s nothing
worse than being a nobody and thanks to its incessant goading,
I’m not!
My sincere thanks to the masses. Their inability
to formulate their own opinions makes this novel a sure bet
for the bestseller list. Selling out is great fun! I only wish
I had trampled on my ludicrous ideals sooner.
Most of all I’d like to thank my cats, Muffy
and Fluffy. My wittle meow-meow machines! Lights of my life!
Daddy loves you!
I do realize that my gratitude may come across
as self-indulgent gloating. However, Dear Reader, this day has
been too long in coming. Thank you for throwing me the proverbial
bone.
....
Bio: J.D. Riso was last
seen in the South Pacific. She maintains a modest website at:
www.jdriso.com
read sometimes you got to make your own fun by JD Riso
