April 24, 2010
The sun is shining, and outside he can hear the birds singing. â€œWhat an excellent day it is todayâ€, he thinks to himself as he slowly gets up from his bed. His bed sheets have that comfortable feel from not having changed them in almost two weeks now. â€œMaybe tonightâ€, he thinks to himself, â€œunless the action is too goodâ€. He was up all night last night, playing with the likes of MOARR, Finansen, iloveu111 and TinyTurtle. His girlfriend called last night and wanted to hang out, but brothermouzone was â€œtoo busyâ€, he told her. â€œAgain?â€, she asked, in disgust. â€œAgainâ€, he replied. That was it for her, she had had enough of his silly little games. She dumped him via text message, but brothermouzone didnâ€™t flinch. He was too busy playing fundamentally solid poker to worry about such trivial things as a romantic relationship. â€œFeelings are what causes tiltâ€, is the mantra brothermouzone lives by. He swore by it then â€“ and he swears by it now.
He walks to the kitchen to grab something to eat. The kitchen is all messy with several stacks of what is mostly empty pizza boxes from the last 3 weeks of grinding and an open, half empty bag of paper plates. The smell is distinct, and vaguely familiar to most. The smell of pepperoni pizza, one of the most popular pizzas in the world. What distinguishes this pepperoni pizza smell from other pepperoni pizza smells is the aging. The smell of pepperoni pizza is like fine wine, it gets better with time. In one of the top boxes, brothermouzone finds 2 slices from yesterdayâ€™s order. He grabs a paper plate, and proceeds to walk to his office.
As he walks through the hallway, the glaring white walls are gracing his presence. He opens the door to his office. Immediately, in the corner, a black man in a suit approaches him. â€œSir,â€ he says, bowing in the presence of brothermouzone. Brothermouzone smiles at the man, the man most would call an assistant. To brothermouzone this is not an assistant however, itâ€™s a servant. â€œLet me boot your computer for youâ€, the servant says, and walks over to the desk. He boots the machine, and two 30" monitors come to life. â€œShould we do the ritual right away?â€, the servant asks brothermouzone, as brothermouzone takes a seat in his black leather computer chair with adjustable height. Brothermouzone spent years adjusting the height and comfort of his chair, and now that heâ€™s got it, he wonâ€™t let anyone else touch it. â€œYes,â€ brothermouzone replies, â€œlet us do the ritualâ€.
The servant proceeds to go to the book shelf, a shelf riddled with poker books, printed eBooks and old porno magazines from brothermouzoneâ€™s time as a teenager. He is an old man now, brothermouzone, at the age of 26. He doesnâ€™t need pornography to be satisfied with his life anymore. The servant finds an old Bible, a King James Bible, to be specific, located between Professional No Limit Holdâ€™em and a slightly worn version of Harrington on Holdâ€™em, volume 1. The servant takes the Bible in his hand, and holds it out to brothermouzone. â€œPlace your hand on the Bible now, brothermouzoneâ€, the servant says. As brothermouzone places his hand upon the Bible, you can hear angels singing beautiful songs in the distance. â€œDo you swear to tell the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?â€, the servant asks? â€œI doâ€. â€œAlright. You are good to go now, brothermouzone, but may I remind you that you are under oath, so no bluffing!â€, the servant says with a serious tone, almost as if brothermouzone has a little demon inside that must be contained. â€œUnderstood,â€ brothermouzone utters submissively. â€œYou may leave now.â€