A fifth-grade bully, a blossoming romance, a late-night crash
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William Penrod says he really isn’t very interesting, but he has become adept at faking it. He lives in Hammond, Indiana.
i keep sending query letters to publishers and agents and hatcheck girls, but nary a reply do i get. i pray for a reply every night: just tell me to go shit in my hat, i pray. then i’ll know that my stuff has at least been delivered.
And now I know that He wants me to try to write a book again and that this time I’ll succeed.
His renewal began with the appearance of that most despised of all the midnight messengers, THE COSELL, and the anguished realization of that most dreadful day’s certain coming.
When Lana left I still kept on talking to Him every day.
He was never IN when I did but I was able to get a lot of information about Him from the Fiery Finger that appeared and wrote on the wall of my cell.