Ad Nausem

Wayne1 story

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Summary

A humorous account of maybe-but-maybe-not self-discovery of a bitter American living in N. Ireland, and how he comes to grips (sort of) with a mid-life crises caused by his own paranoia (probably). This isn’t a book. Or maybe it is. You tell me. Wikipedia defines a “book” as: “...a set of written, printed, illustrated, or blank sheets, made of ink, paper, parchment, or other materials, fastened together to hinge at one side. A single sheet within a book is a leaf, and each side of a leaf is a page.” So if your hands are holding a physical object that meets the above description, then congratulations are in order- for both of us. Me for writing it and getting it published in this lifetime and you for being a fucking genius with impeccable taste. But you might not be reading this in a traditional book form. How could I possibly know? Maybe you’re frying your eyeballs with an e-book, or listening to some awesome famous-for-nothing celebrity reading my words FO-NET-ICK-LY through your car speakers or shitty over-priced earphones (c’mon, admit it. They’re not that great) in a seductive voice that makes you tickly and moist. Or, maybe it’s the distant future when you’re reading this and people are permanently plugged into the matrix (or what wherever?) and you’ve loaded this directly into your brain (which I’ve just now discovered is slang for “blowjob” as in...