Holding back tears, I get my knees to move and get out.
Magnus
It's like the fucking world is going to Hell and someone gave me a front row ticket to the carnage.
This morning, coming into work for Davion Development, two people stopped to hiss at me. Who the fuck hisses at people anymore? I just kept walking. It wasn't really worth my time to stop and deal with a hisser.
I mean just the thought of someone hissing ... is fucking strange, something that I associate with a snake or some other reptile. Not sure about whether I really equate that with things that humans do.
But then again these New Yorkers on the street probably think I'm some sort of snake at this point considering the kind of press I've been getting.
I mean Jesus Christ, if the President thinks that the news media is against him, imagine a hundred fucking times worse. It's like someone got all the fucking newspapers and cable channels and broadcast news and every sort of nickel and dime journalist and told them that they should go out there and come up with the slimiest shit that they could think of to get me.
I mean, I never really trusted the news media. Does anyone in
this country anymore?
Do you?
Sure, they're not all bad. And they're human beings too. I'm not saying that they individually are bad people. They probably have families and they don't eat babies or whatever the fuck.
But combined together they're a fucking mob. And they're out to get me.
You should see some of the shit that's been coming out since this whole thing broke.
I mean, I know you've seen some of the stuff and Penny's been talking to you every other chapter, but I don't think she even keeps track of some of this shit.
And it's a good thing too, because if she did...I mean, fuck, I don't know how she would take it.
I mean, yesterday the Daily Journal said something like, "Magnus Davion: Should He Be Allowed To Live Near Schools?"
Can you believe that shit?
The reasoning?
Apparently because I had known Penny when she was 18 years old I must've had something for her. Like I planned this whole thing. Like I built a multi-billion dollar real estate empire that culminated in the purchase of the New York Nailers that led me to cum on that one cheerleader's face. Apparently that was all a plan to get the attention of the Page Eight Gossip Column for the New York Daily Journal and that somehow led me to my ex-stepdaughter who I then proceeded to fuck.
Right.
But you haven't heard the best one yet.
Apparently, I'm a spy sent over from the fucking Russians. That's right. So I guess I work for the Russians now and my job is to corrupt American values. Apparently I'm doing that by having hot fucking sex with my stepdaughter and flaunting it everywhere. Somewhere along the line, my goal was apparently to build the Equinox Towers and then flaunt my lack of morals from there. I have no idea how they drew that leap but it's clear that whoever was writing that piece was writing something they didn't really believe and were doing halfheartedly.
It doesn't take a genius to guess who is pushing the buttons at the New York Daily Journal.
I mean, come on. Anyone else in the city you know that can arrange that many media elites together and herd them in the same direction?
It's like the New York Daily Journal comes up with a story and then the other newspapers run it. And shortly after the newspaper comes up with the story and the other newspapers copy it, the cable news channels and local news pick it up and run with it and before you know it the whole fucking thing is a story by itself.
What else is there? Aside from being a Russian spy with a tendency to fuck stepdaughters, I've apparently been cheating my business associates. I've been stealing from my company and shortchanging my fucking employees.
I've also been allegedly constructing buildings with cheap and shoddy materials. That's a new one. So the fact that they withstood earthquakes while everything around them collapsed is just too much of a coincidence, huh?
Don't worry; I'm not angry at you. I'm just pissed the fuck off at the situation.
If it were just me, I would tell the fucking press to go fuck themselves. I could care less and I'd just weather it by pulling out my cock and taking a piss on their fucking shoes.
That's what I do. That's how I roll.