by Canterbury Soul
I have nothing much to say, Peter. I mean, how wonderful could my life be when I was named after a comic character?
You see, my man of old back in Webster was a big fan of this superheroine that has the ability to fly and create auras of different colours with power. I mean, come on, what kind of a weird character is that? And just because I was born a female, he gave me that stupid name, Halo.
Halo? I mean, “HELLO?” How many people had actually heard of this comic character? Nine and a half out of ten people associated my name with this bright circle round the heads of some holy bastards. What did I get?
“Hey! Look at that chick with prick, HALO JESSE JAMES!”
Now I can laugh with you, Peter. But I wasn’t laughing then. I mean, look at my name! A freakish superheroine and a fucking male outlaw combined. Can you blame me for having this little gender identity crisis?
Yes, I was wrong to check her boobs. I mean, I myself had none even when I reached 21, so I asked her if I could see what I had been missing. It was my first time for Pete’s sake (not you). Should he be so mean to me? Was it necessary for him to drag me into the woods and shoot me?
Enough! Don’t wanna cry. Can you open the gates now, Peter? I’d like to see how God looks like.