.. it's hard to describe. Real? Like, a whole new level of real--like, the kind of real that makes everything else seem a little bit unreal.It is soli... black. On the front, there is a single line of golden print:Happy Birthday.Inside, he finds a note.You've been dealt a shitty hand, Marcus, but in the game of life you get to choose how to play. Do you want to play?Marcus shivers. The air seems cold. He feels like he's being watched. He feels like it matters, like the question is real, like he. C. Even his well-respected mentors understood the need for sending him as far away from the center of power as quickly as possible before he just got upset and tried to gain control of the whole shooting match.Of course, I knew almost every detail of Custer’s debacle and hoped that I might be able to reduce the losses somewhat without actually changing the course of history. I didn’t think that would be a good course of action for the delicate space-time continuum according to some science. Slam! Another.I eventually came to my senses, finding myself curled up on the floor.“Wow!” said Amy, laughing.”I've never done that to a girl before. You were writhing so much you fell of the chair!”When I was able to speak again, all I could say was how amazing it was and started to giggle with Amy.With that I staggered off to bed.After that, I was masturbating at every opportunity I could. I did it in the toilets at college, on the bus, and several times at night in my room. I even started to. I was singing in Spanish to a predominantly Caucasian audience went the argument. I laughed when she cursed about the prejudice of that stupidity since the final soloist was singing from an Italian opera. They announced my name and even the guitar could not stave off the return of stage fright. I walked towards my fate and nodded to the audience as soon as I was out of the curtain’s protective cover. I moved to where the stagehands had placed the bar stool in front of the microphone. The lights.