Ba dah la la la be duh be duh ARGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGH!!!! BASTARDS!!!!!
This is what happens when a man sings a subtle and lovely tone during a full-blown battle.
Not all children are wanted; in massive cities it’s a rarity.
Now when as I stand here, well sitting here writing for you…Well I assume AI am writing for you or maybe I am writing for a great number of people whom you are reading this to, that would make me very happy if this situation was to arise but if that’s not the case and your sitting there in your boxers reading this over the holonet or whatever, I hope you enjoy it but I think the first thing your wondering is, why is a 28 year old writing an autobiography and who the hell is this guy?
My name is Jake Hansol and I am 28 years old, I was born in what can only be described as a festering hell hole, the very bottom of society the seedy hole of the centre of the galaxy, the all encompassing hell…. Ok I will stop with the metaphors but you get the point. Encase you didn’t know I was born in the capital of the Alsakan empire right in a disgusting slum to someone I have no idea, fathered by someone I have no idea who was at about 12 O’clock in the afternoon…. Well that what they told me
The very little I can work out was that I was told growing up in an orphanage was that my mother was a drug addict, addicted to various concoctions that cost more money than she could make, how she paid for this I don’t know and how she found the time to have a child is something to this day that baffles my mind. Luckily my mother dropped me off at a wonderful place where something kept me going and made me strong, Religion or to be precise the wonderful religion off the alsakan society the very fabric that makes our world click.
Now I will never say I am the smartest guy in the world, to be honest I would go so far as to say I am rather dim, In fact actually this is not me writing this, it’s one of them droids thingajigs….fantastic technology it really is, amazing what they can do with it. Anyway to talk about my lack of intelligence is one of those er touchy subjects, I am a very loyal person and I always do what I think is right but when it comes to military type things, you know war, guns blowing people up in hellish fireballs of hate and fury, I am damn good at that and I have no idea why, You ask me to right down how to navigate around the galaxy and I will shot you out into a black hole or a wookie strip club on Kashyyk (if they exist) which also has black holes come to think of it, ever since I joined the military I have been the best at what I do and I could be the best in the whole damn military but apparently they think peoples strategy should be better than blow the crap out of them.
Now as you may off guessed I joined the military at the ripe old age of 14, which is in no small part to the fact that I was bigger than the recruitment guy and he was hung over from the night before (Overzealous religious bashes rock!) but I joined and went though basic training bloody well, now to be honest I knew little of the republic growing up other then the basics which was that we hated them, the military give you a few more bits and bobs such as how best to kill them and you should always kill them! Needless to say I am rather good at killing Pirates and have done it a fair few times, now I am not some heartless monster who likes killing people than sleeping with there sisters to really rub it in but when someone is against everything you stand for, your religion, your very existence and they see themselves as better than you, well if that’s not an excuse to kill them…Well what is hey.
Now having been in the military for over ten years and excelling in various ways (ANYONE WHO MENTIONS WHAT HAPPENED IN STRATEGIC THINKING WILL GET A BLASTER UP THERE JACKSEE!?) the military have given me the rather amazing task of do as we say…They tell me what to do I do it, I join up with a regiment on the frontlines I do it, I kill some senator guy I do it, when I am not doing that well I hang around with my friends while they do…..stuff…..I never really know but they look out for me and I think they kinda need me.
My good friends… One of them is Murray and he is one hell of a guy, always there when you need him 65% of the time and when he isn’t there he is off doing something that few others could so with only 35% of there time! We met about 5 years ago in a small pub in the seedy parts of our fair world, Murray strolled in thinking he was the mutts nuts, the bees knees and for reasons that only he will know started talking to one of the bar girls in the joint, he was whispering stuff in her ears for everyone to hear…Which I guess means he wasn’t whispering but needless to say she weren’t interested from where I was sitting but her manager was, Big guy, massive biceps and the biggest fake hair piece this side of the galaxy, clearly the guy didn’t have enough for implants…Real hair and all for a weeks wages….Maybe he was paying off some loan or something but needless to say Murray didn’t like being robbed of what he saw as someone at work and an argument happened which ended in the strangest way possible with the end result being a manager with a burning wig on his head and Murray running from the joint with a blaster at his side…..Well what would you of done, of course I had to talk to this guy and the rest they say is history. Now I have a few other close friends but they will come up in due time…Patience is a virtue
This is more of less everything that has happened in my life to this point, where I am sitting in my flat, in my underwear eating breakfast...Oh god I think it’s time to stop…No stop….Stop bloody typing what I am saying for gods sake…NO! bloody machine
*Blaster round discharged followed by various cursing*
This is what happens when a man sings a subtle and lovely tone during a full-blown battle.
Not all children are wanted; in massive cities it’s a rarity.
Now when as I stand here, well sitting here writing for you…Well I assume AI am writing for you or maybe I am writing for a great number of people whom you are reading this to, that would make me very happy if this situation was to arise but if that’s not the case and your sitting there in your boxers reading this over the holonet or whatever, I hope you enjoy it but I think the first thing your wondering is, why is a 28 year old writing an autobiography and who the hell is this guy?
My name is Jake Hansol and I am 28 years old, I was born in what can only be described as a festering hell hole, the very bottom of society the seedy hole of the centre of the galaxy, the all encompassing hell…. Ok I will stop with the metaphors but you get the point. Encase you didn’t know I was born in the capital of the Alsakan empire right in a disgusting slum to someone I have no idea, fathered by someone I have no idea who was at about 12 O’clock in the afternoon…. Well that what they told me
The very little I can work out was that I was told growing up in an orphanage was that my mother was a drug addict, addicted to various concoctions that cost more money than she could make, how she paid for this I don’t know and how she found the time to have a child is something to this day that baffles my mind. Luckily my mother dropped me off at a wonderful place where something kept me going and made me strong, Religion or to be precise the wonderful religion off the alsakan society the very fabric that makes our world click.
Some people say adult life is about reproducing, settling down and turning lowly beige .
Now I will never say I am the smartest guy in the world, to be honest I would go so far as to say I am rather dim, In fact actually this is not me writing this, it’s one of them droids thingajigs….fantastic technology it really is, amazing what they can do with it. Anyway to talk about my lack of intelligence is one of those er touchy subjects, I am a very loyal person and I always do what I think is right but when it comes to military type things, you know war, guns blowing people up in hellish fireballs of hate and fury, I am damn good at that and I have no idea why, You ask me to right down how to navigate around the galaxy and I will shot you out into a black hole or a wookie strip club on Kashyyk (if they exist) which also has black holes come to think of it, ever since I joined the military I have been the best at what I do and I could be the best in the whole damn military but apparently they think peoples strategy should be better than blow the crap out of them.
Now as you may off guessed I joined the military at the ripe old age of 14, which is in no small part to the fact that I was bigger than the recruitment guy and he was hung over from the night before (Overzealous religious bashes rock!) but I joined and went though basic training bloody well, now to be honest I knew little of the republic growing up other then the basics which was that we hated them, the military give you a few more bits and bobs such as how best to kill them and you should always kill them! Needless to say I am rather good at killing Pirates and have done it a fair few times, now I am not some heartless monster who likes killing people than sleeping with there sisters to really rub it in but when someone is against everything you stand for, your religion, your very existence and they see themselves as better than you, well if that’s not an excuse to kill them…Well what is hey.
Now having been in the military for over ten years and excelling in various ways (ANYONE WHO MENTIONS WHAT HAPPENED IN STRATEGIC THINKING WILL GET A BLASTER UP THERE JACKSEE!?) the military have given me the rather amazing task of do as we say…They tell me what to do I do it, I join up with a regiment on the frontlines I do it, I kill some senator guy I do it, when I am not doing that well I hang around with my friends while they do…..stuff…..I never really know but they look out for me and I think they kinda need me.
My good friends… One of them is Murray and he is one hell of a guy, always there when you need him 65% of the time and when he isn’t there he is off doing something that few others could so with only 35% of there time! We met about 5 years ago in a small pub in the seedy parts of our fair world, Murray strolled in thinking he was the mutts nuts, the bees knees and for reasons that only he will know started talking to one of the bar girls in the joint, he was whispering stuff in her ears for everyone to hear…Which I guess means he wasn’t whispering but needless to say she weren’t interested from where I was sitting but her manager was, Big guy, massive biceps and the biggest fake hair piece this side of the galaxy, clearly the guy didn’t have enough for implants…Real hair and all for a weeks wages….Maybe he was paying off some loan or something but needless to say Murray didn’t like being robbed of what he saw as someone at work and an argument happened which ended in the strangest way possible with the end result being a manager with a burning wig on his head and Murray running from the joint with a blaster at his side…..Well what would you of done, of course I had to talk to this guy and the rest they say is history. Now I have a few other close friends but they will come up in due time…Patience is a virtue
The eye of the tiger…..Grrrrrrrrrrrrr
This is more of less everything that has happened in my life to this point, where I am sitting in my flat, in my underwear eating breakfast...Oh god I think it’s time to stop…No stop….Stop bloody typing what I am saying for gods sake…NO! bloody machine
*Blaster round discharged followed by various cursing*
