It all started on one sunny day. It was mid June. It was a swelting hot day, and everyone was heading for the pools. It was nothing but a normal day for James. He was working hard at the white house trying to get the president a coffee. He was the errand boy, his whole job was basically running around getting food or drinks, sometimes running the president's suits to get dry cleaned. Today however he was to get a french vanilla coffee from the President's favorite cafe, that was on the other side of town. James didn't care for his job much. Anyone who knew him would always talk about how much he complained. His job wasn't really hard, it was just boring. The pay wasn't great either. He only got a little more than minimal wage. Not only that but he had to sit and wait for hours on end. A never ending wait as he called it. But that day he was tired of waiting. So, when the first drink was slide unto the counter with the name James he took it. He knew he hadn't ordered yet, but a part of him couldn't wait. To make things worst no one stopped him. Once, he drove back the president was too busy to even notice that it wasn't a french vanilla coffee. Instead he only commented that it was cold. A few mintue later and James started is waiting. Waiting for the president to get done with his speech. After only being there for a few mintue a loud noise startled everyone. James got up and looked around. Then he saw people start to rush out of the theater. Once the crowd had moved he got a chance to ask one of the guards what happened.

"The president collapsed on stage. We're bringing to the hospital now. Why don't you head home early?" The guard said. James wasn't sure why but he felt as though it was his fault. Deep down he felt he did something wrong. He ignored it though and left for home.

The next day he got the call, the president had died. "What?! How?!" he said as he held the phone close to his ear.

"Poison we think. We're waiting for the blood results to come back. Your his errand boy, what did he have you bring him?"

"Well, for breakfast he had his normal coffee and that was all he had. As far as I know of course."

James waited all day to learn what had happened. Once he did, it wasn't the way he wanted. He got a knock on his door and opened it to the police. There to arrest him. What the had found was poison in his system, and as for where they found it. The coffee cup that James had given to him. James was taken away for murder. Even though he didn't kill the president. It was a case of wrong time wrong place.

After all I have witnessed, I will not forget the night when a full moon and all the stars revealed my vengeance. The night I changed my fate. The night my story began.

“Damn my reckless impulses,” I hid beneath the old, splintered pier near Hook’s Point, catching my breath, and scrubbing the blood from my face. A faint torch rushed toward the beach. The clicking and clacking of a sword hung from a sailor’s belt followed me as I ran. “Halt or I’ll shoot,” a harsh voice echoed beneath the pier. I planted my feet into the sand, turned, and fell to my knees at the sight of a royal officer.

“This is a bad place to hide,” the officer said. “If I were you, I would’ve started rowing an hour ago.”

“Where would I row to?” I said. “Thalassia is four days by sail.”

“Thalassians are too friendly with The Slavers Union. I doubt they’d welcome a runaway slave washing up on their shores. Is there somewhere else you can go? A man always needs a place to hide.”

“You’re not going to arrest me?”

“Maybe, maybe not; look me in the eyes and tell me why everyone on your island is searching for you.”

I pulled his torch toward my tearless brown eyes. “If the whole island is looking for me, then you know what I did. My master was an old, drunk fool. I promised him this day would come.”

The officer lowered his pistol. “Looks like your master put up a good fight. That’s a nasty gash on your face, and more scars than I’ve ever seen on a man. You’ve felt the whip too many times.”

“Spare the whip, spoil the slave. Isn’t that what the spoiled say?”

“Aristocrats and free citizens say lots of things. It doesn’t mean you have to agree with them.”

“In my experience, disagreement leads to the whip.”

“It is an unfortunate truth. Tell me another truth about a brutal murder. I heard a butcher’s knife was involved.”

“I used what I had. Killing a man is brutal no matter how you do it.”

“That’s an honest confession, a brave one too. The king’s navy needs brave and honest sailors. Your sins and secrets will disappear if you swear your life to our true god and king. That is the law.”

“That law isn’t for slaves.”

“You have my word. I will uphold the law and make no mention of your past.”

“And who are you?”

“I am Captain Doss of the king’s royal navy. Swear allegiance to the crown and join my crew. We depart for Perria in the morning. From there, you will board a conscription ship and sail to Boar’s Tooth Island for basic training. Don’t be foolish; accept my generous offer. I could shoot you. No one would question my actions.”

That was hard to argue. His offer was far better than eating a bullet or hanging from a rope. “Fair enough,” I said. “I’ll go with you.”

Doss kept a firm grip on his pistol while we navigated a winding path along the coastal cliffs. A howling wind battered my face and tugged at my clothes. Waves crashed against moss-covered rocks. We would’ve dredged through the sand, stones, and shattered shells all night if I hadn’t shown him a trail through the goat pastures.

We reached the harbor as an orange sun rose above the shimmering Diamond Sea. Barrels filled to the brim with bait fish permeated the air. The port was abuzz with fishers and merchants preparing their vessels for a hard day’s work. Drunks and laborers pointed fingers and shook their fists when they noticed me walking alongside a royal officer. Their faces contorted with anger. Voices rose with insults and jeering.

“Keep your eyes on the ground,” Doss commanded. “Be smart, and you’ll be safe on the king’s warship. But first, we have to shave your head. Can’t risk the crew getting lice on your account.”

“I don’t have lice. I know what they feel like.”

“Standard procedure, you’ll be fine.”

I perched on a stool and faced the port while a one-eyed barber hacked my long hair with a hunting knife. I didn’t suppose it was his fault he had one eye. Still, I was furious with the man who gave him the position. Halfway through my haircut, the barber poured months-old cooking oil over my head and shaved the remaining tufts. The grease burned and sank into the scrapes on my scalp.

“Now you look like a recruit,” Doss slapped my greasy head. “Come on, time to swear your oath in front of my fellow officers. Then we’ll get the medic to look at you.”

I climbed into a rowboat, found an open seat between two barrels of fresh water, and grasped the oars. Small glistening waves splashed into the boat as my home faded into the horizon. We pulled alongside the warship, and I became so small, helpless, and overwhelmed by the size of each towering mast. Intricate webs of ropes and rigging stretched across the sky.

“She’s called the Elsbury,” Doss said. “She’s a fine ship but slower than she looks. When you’re done staring at her, there’s loads of work to do.”

We hoisted water barrels onto the Elsbury. Then a net dropped from above. It was my turn to go up the ropes. Doss stopped me as my feet touched the net. “Before you climb,” he said. “I have one thing to say. All sailors must accept death before going out to sea.”

I nodded, climbed the net, and stepped foot on polished planks. I never knew wood could shine. The ropes were tidy. Every hand worked without complaint. Each man sang a song about his task.

The salts, as the crew called themselves, dressed in bright, form-fitting yellow uniforms. My thoughts of wearing such a thing made me laugh until one of the old salts saw me snicker. “You’ll be dressed like this soon enough,” the old salt tugged on his collar and continued securing an endless line of rope.

I was weary but unafraid of the bloodshot eyes watching me stroll behind Doss like a newfound puppy. A fine group of officers climbed the stairs and joined us on the quarterdeck. Waxed and groomed mustaches nearly blotted out the sun. Every glittering button on their green uniforms was worth more than my life. I’ll never forget how the officers looked at me; it was the same way I inspected a fish before plucking it from my hook.

“Raise your right hand,” Doss commanded. “State your name for all to hear.”

“Richard Hawthorne,” I lied.

Doss cleared his throat. “Do you, Richard Hawthorne, swear to serve our god and king, Winston the Second, Lord of The Diamond Sea, with all your heart and soul? Will you pledge your life in service to his kingdom and his heirs according to the divine law?”

I held my head high and told another lie. “I swear.”

Basketball practice had gotten out late. Me and my brother were waiting for our mom to pick us up. Once she did we realized something was wrong, the car was packed with our stuff. She drove us to a police station were we learned that we were finally leaving our dad. For context my dad was abusive. His words could pierce your skin and kill you. A few night before he had thrown my brother and told him that he could starve. So, to learn that we were finally going to be free, was the greatest gift of them all.

My father disappeared years before my coming of age without leaving a trace to his whereabouts. At that time, my regent gave me the keys to the entirety of my father’s estate. In the basement of his laboratory, I spent my formidable years remaining quiet and learning to unlock the secrets of his research. I encountered new words and ideas I dare not share with others, so as to provide clues to my intentions. Exhausting his notes, even by a cursory glance, would take years. A detailed examination may cost the entirety of my life. Daunting as that may seem, I stood affirmed in my resolve to succeed.

And succeed I did.

In a mere eight years, I not only translated, but comprehended 90% of my father’s manuscripts. He called his invention, the Forget Me Not. Its purpose was singular. The wearer could relive any pleasurable experience from his past as if experiencing it for the very first time. The Forget Me Not (FMN) functions as follows:

The device maps the user’s brain (while the user thinks about the memory) to discover the exact location of the experience.

The device stores the memory exactly as the user remembers it. The storage device digitizes all five senses and the user’s perception. The memory capacity is greater than normal computers by a million fold.

Upon activation, the FMN temporarily blocks the synaptic pathways that permit the user to forget the experience.

Then the FMN downloads the memory, experience, and perception back to the user.

The machine may record the entire experience for posterity and repeat it as often as necessary.

With my increased time in the lab, I began to lose track of the day-to-day affairs of the estate. Offering the position to the only person I knew would accept, I found my regent and made the proposition. As if he never forfeited his previous occupation, my regent agreed to my terms. In doing so, I continued my research and my regent found his new employer mostly absent. Thus, both parties returned to what they did best.

Two more years of work and I began my first trial run. Using no other than myself, I set the FMN to scan and copy only. I thought of eating my first ice cream cone. The FMN took only three minutes to scan and three milliseconds to copy. If I remained attached to the FMN, I might be experiencing that memory exactly as I did as a child. I decided to postpone that decision until the end of the week.

Unusual to my normal routine, I began a brief audit of the household books. My regent did his due diligence and kept them accurate and timely. I did not find any discrepancies (the regent saved receipts), but I did find the food budget larger by half than what I would budget. I made a mental note to speak to him of this at a later date.

By the onset of the upcoming auspicious week, I made arrangements not to be disturbed for the duration of the day. I was both curious and determined to activate the FMN for a full scale test. The previous night, I chose my last memory of my father. That day, that beautiful sunny day, we walked to the park together to watch the sunset. He held my hand as we climbed a small hill.

With no distractions, nor words, we saw the sunset on an amazing day. I felt warm. I felt happy. Most of all, I felt my father’s love for me. No day since has rivaled that day. Most likely, no day hence will.

D-Day came and I went to the lab to greet destiny. I sat in the chair and attached the FMN. I set the control to automatic before I sat back and let the entire program run its course. Within seconds, I saw the Sun from that day. I felt my father’s hand. His stride was larger than mine. To compensate, I had to trot. I felt my pulse increase to accommodate. I even felt a bead or two or sweat run down my forehead. I kept the lab at 62 degrees, but my memory swore it was 92 degrees. As if on cue, I saw growing shadows of other park patrons as they moved toward home. I even smelled the lingering odor of my father’s aftershave. The Sun set on time. The sky turned from orange to red to dark. My father squeezed my hand when it was time to go. The FMN worked beyond my wildest expectations. If I could do it all over again, I would.

That day, that beautiful sunny day, we walked to the park together to watch the sunset. He held my hand as we climbed a small hill. With no distractions, nor words, we saw the sunset on an amazing day. I felt warm. I felt happy. Most of all, I felt my father’s love for me. No day since has rivaled that day. Most likely, no day hence will.

D-Day came and I went to the lab to greet destiny. I sat in the chair and attached the FMN. I set the control to automatic before I sat back and let the entire program run its course. Within seconds, I saw the Sun from that day. I felt my father’s hand. His stride was larger than mine. To compensate, I had to trot. I felt my pulse increase to accommodate. I even felt a bead or two or sweat run down my forehead. I kept the lab at 62 degrees, but my memory swore it was 92 degrees. As if on cue, I saw growing shadows of other park patrons as they moved toward home. I even smelled the lingering odor of my father’s aftershave. The Sun set on time. The sky turned from orange to red to dark. My father squeezed my hand when it was time to go. The FMN worked beyond my wildest expectations. If I could do it all over again, I would.

That day, that beautiful sunny day, we walked to the park together to watch the sunset. He held my hand as we climbed a small hill. With no distractions, nor words, we saw the sunset on an amazing day. I felt warm. I felt happy. Most of all, I felt my father’s love for me. No day since has rivaled that day. Most likely, no day hence will.

The regent called the doctor to move my shell of a body adjacent to my father’s in the laboratory alcove repurposed for an occupancy of two. He made a mental note to increase the food budget by another half again as he locked the laboratory, possibly for the last time.

Disney+ is the best because you get kid shows, teen shows, and even shows that are for adult or kid/teen shows that adults love. It is the best. In my family we have a few favorite like Owl House, Amphibia, and Big City Greens. It is just a all around good streaming platform.

(spoilers for Owl house and Amphibian) Oh and if you did know Owl House is about a lesbian girl goes to a world of magic and it is all her adventures with her friend and girl friend. Amphibia is about how a teen girl get stuck in a frog world and has to find her friend that got stuck in with her and she make a frog friend. And last we have Big City Greens it is about this farmer family that goes to the city and has to figure out how to live in a city.

I can see why it is cat vs dog. (just kidding. I don't). In my opinion, neither is better. I am allergic to cats, but they are super cute. Dogs are just as cute, so it's hard to choose. I mean dogs and cats fight, but dog people and cat people shouldn't. (We are people.We are supposed to be smarter then the animals, but, anyway.) It sucks because I love both and they are both so fluffy, but one touch of a cat and -boom!- I brake into hives. But that's just my opinion.

Why is it every time I look in a mirror is see someone behind me but when I look behind I see nothing. It is the strangest thing to see some one behind you in a mirror and feel someone behind you but no one is there. Maybe it my conscious, maybe it my eyes, but what ever it is it is creeping me out I told my therapist but I think she is just trying to make me feel better ( Its just your conscious you will get used to it ). Imagine being so scared you tell your therapist and it is so insane they think you are lying. Yeah, not good. I started to ignore it but eventually it started following me but I ignored the signs ... not a good choice because now am watching my own funeral and saying hi to my dead mom.

After reading a fictitious obituary that bore my name, I, Achille Marozzo, dipped my pen into ink. Despite the devious and tyrannical efforts of King Winston the Third, I am alive. Our watery world looked upon the king’s newspaper and saw the tragic spectacle of an innocent soul. King Winston the Plump disfigured and tortured a poor drunk named Edward Tasson in a pathetic attempt to make Edward look like me. I say with certainty that those who have seen me know I am far more hideous.

Furthermore, I must address a series of false accusations that tarnish my reputation. King Winston the Third, Fattest of His Name, and Lord of Pies labeled me a murderer, which is true from his point of view. I have indeed taken the lives of many men, but was it murder? A few, yes, though I gave fair warning to all who threatened me with chains, whips, pistols, and swords.

The tubby tyrant’s malicious news article claimed that a nefarious sorceress had conjured demons and possessed me. When I read the slanderous story, I tore the paper to pieces. I know nothing about demons, but I’ve learned a lot about love and sorcery.

Lastly, the rotund ruler branded me a thief. Yet, let us pause and ponder who pilfers our pockets. Is it the outlaw who, with daring courage, liberates the captive souls from their shackles? Or are the king’s plump fingers, stained with greed, the ones that reach into your pockets and steal your hard-earned wealth in the guise of taxes? Whose hands, smooth and supple, plunder the sustenance from your mouths? Who seized your innocent children, bound them in iron, and forced them to labor?

Good People, it is through these ink-stained pages that I shall endeavor to tell you more than a story. I will tell you the truth about who I am. My history will not be the king’s fiction. For I, Achille Marozzo, who can read, write, and draw, held the pen.

The world lost a shining and inimitable talent yesterday. Mr. Love paid a beautiful tribute, and we wanted to express it here, and on the channel, along with our condolences to Mr. MacGowan's family, friends, and fans. Go easy, Shane, and thank you for your years here.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bEBzheJviBs