22 September 2007
A Likely Birthday
September 23rd, 1856
Well, today is my birthday, dear journal, and I am now another year older. More grey hairs fleck my lordly temples, and my poor bones ache more than ever with each passing day, and each fresh adventure. Time is catching up with me, I fear, and one day soon Time will have me well and truly in it’s grasp.
However, they do say that you are only as young as you feel, and today I am feeling this delightfully limber young lady, called Helena, a very amiable twenty-two year-old Dutch prostitute whom Botter procured for my birthday. Sometimes he knows me all too well, the scruffy little turk.
So, by the logic dictated above, I should feel only twenty-two today, and quite frankly I do. I am still relatively young, healthy and I am as devilishly handsome and well-equipped as ever. By the balls of Beezlebub, I feel great.
Therefore I can only say this: piss off, Time, you shall not lay your corrosive fingers on my fine form. In fact, should you come anywhere near me, I shall kick you right in the cock, intangible entity or not.
I must away now, dear journal, for I am throwing a massive party tonight, which will hopefully feature more naked ladies and plenty of booze.
I shall return to continue my Astonishing American Adventure soon, provided I have not lost the ability to see or walk in the interim.
Toodle-pip!
- Lord Likely.
