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    Summary

    It occurred to him slowly but clicked into place in an instant. An understanding and a realisation that had begun festering in his brain for so long that it had begun to make it’s home there; built with bricks made of an internalised self-loathing that sometimes felt like it was so heavy Richie could barely inhale. It was like a weird, fucked up puzzle from the universe that was being given to Richie in fragments. Piece by piece. And as the picture became clearer, the details less murky and more defined, Richie began to feel as if his life was over before it had truly begun. That everything he had hoped for was instantly torn from his grasp.

    Richie knew a lot. He knew that without Buddy Holly, there would be no Beatles. He knew that modern ventriloquism started in nightclubs and originated as a religious practice. He knew that rabbits could not puke, the oldest ‘your mom’ joke was found on a 3,500-year-old Babylonian tablet, and that shellac was made from insect poop. And he knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he was most certainly going to hell.

    Language:
    English
    Words:
    249,434
    Chapters:
    32/32
    Comments:
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    697
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