I am in the streets and I start talking.

"I am Large_Larry_Literal, older brother of Little_Lenny_Literal," I say that because I was born before him and he was born after me, which is why I am his older brother.

"I was just at the funeral of my brother, Little_Lenny_Literal," I say, because I had just left the funeral of my brother, Little_Lenny_Literal, who had been killed and I didn't want anyone to be confused it was the funeral of any of my other brothers; Lithe_Lucius_Literal or Lanky_Lionel_Literal.

"We don't know who killed him." The identity of his killer was a mystery to me. "I will pay anyone who witnessed this murder and comes forward with information about his death."

I stand in the street and wait for people to come forward. Old Lady_Linda_Literal was still crying. It was because she upset that her son had died. That's why she was crying. Large_Larry_Literal didn't like to think about his mother being upset. It made him sad. He was sad at the thought of his mother being upset at the loss of her son and he was also sad at the loss of his brother, Little_Lenny_Literal. Who was dead. 

"Please help us identify his killer."

Tom was walking around when he heard this speech given. This particular mans way of speaking was a bit odd to Tom. He than took the word and said.

Sorry mate, but could you be a little more clear. I feel like, maybe you could have put some more information on what you were saying.

Ever since he was a young kid Tom always thought his irony level was top notch, but in reality it was complete, utter shite.

I am standing in the streets waiting to hear if anyone has any information about the death of my brother, Little_Lenny_Literal. TomRiddle is the first person to approach me. I am standing perfectly still and giving an appropriate amount of eye contact while I listen to what TomRiddle has to say. 

I am surprised by what TomRiddle says because I thought I was being quite clear about my intentions. Maybe I need to be clearer about my intentions, I think. "Maybe I need to be clearer about my intentions," I say, because TomRiddle asked if I could be clearer and I didn't want him or anyone else to be confused.

"TomRiddle, I am the older brother of Little_Lenny_Literal," I say. "He was born after me and we have the same mother, Lady_Linda_Literal and the same father, Jerome. That is why I am his older brother."

I wait to see if TomRiddle understands this bit before I continue. I want to be sure so I ask him if he understands.

"Do you understand so far, TomRiddle?" I say. 

Tom stands there and hears what Large_Larry_Literal says. He understands some of the words but still encounters a few difficulties.

Do you think you can include some charts to make it a bit more clear? I feel like we're making some progress so far.

TomRiddle replies quickly which I am pleased about. I have muscular legs but standing around all day is a waste of time. I think that because if I have things to do and if I am just standing in the streets, those things aren't getting done and that time has not been well spent doing the things that needed to be done.

I listen to what TomRiddle says but I feel myself being to frown. He says we're making some progress so far, but I am not convinced he actually understands my family dynamic because he wants charts. Maybe he is kind of dumb. I decide to ignore his request for charts and ask him if he has any pertinent information.

"Do you have any pertinent information about the death of my little brother, Little_Lenny_Literal, TomRiddle?" I say to him. I wait for him to reply and hope he understands. 

I will pay 20 million to anyone who can prove who killed my friendLittle_Lenny_Literal.

Little Lenny was my most promising pupil. He had everything it takes to get swole as hell. He was a man who I thought would one day not only bend spoons but move mountains. His death at the hands of the weaklings, pipsqueaks, losers and nerds of our ruined earth is a permanent blemish on this community. Some people, like me, take great pride in their physical and mental well-being. Others, like Little Lenny's killers, walk around looking like something you'd pick out of your teeth. Disgusting. 

You look strong, Large Larry. I know what you're thinking: why do all these people look sickly and diseased? The truth is most of these chumps wouldn't know what a kettlebell was if it knocked the wind out of their neglected, emaciated bodies. In an ideal world, they would have never left the sewers, from a life foraging for coins with the rats. But this is new world, Larry. A world without Little Lenny to shine like a little lighthouse of hope. 

It has been an hour and a half and I've ignored two people waiting for TomRiddle to reply. I am beginning to think he doesn't have any information about the death of my brother after all. I think that because he hasn't replied to me in quite a long time. I decide I am done talking with him.

"I am done talking with you, TomRiddle," I say, angrily. I am quite a big guy so he is very intimidated. 

I see Dorothy and recall what she had said some hours before. She had offered 20 million to anyone who could help provide information about the loss of her friend, Little_Lenny_Literal. I didn't know she was friends with my little brother, Little_Lenny_Literal, so I decide to ask her about it.

"I didn't know you were friends with my little brother, Little_Lenny_Literal, Dorothy," I say. I wonder how they knew each other.

MartyMuscles has been standing around looking thick for over an hour. Not a bead of sweat on his brow. I am impressed by this as everyone knows large muscles are a sign of sexual virility and an affinity with animals, so I am naturally drawn to him. He had offered his condolences for the loss of my little brother, Little_Lenny_Literal and I think I should accept them. 

"I accept your condolences, MartyMuscles," I say. I think more about what he has said. He is right. I do wonder why people look scrawny. Accordingly their sexual virility is doubtful which is not a good look for anyone. I am slightly disgusted by all of them. "These people slightly disgust me, MartyMuscles," I say. I say this because I am slightly disgusted. 

My kin killed him

Next

An ugly worm of a man approaches me; I recognise him as Scrooge. He smells even worse than people had been saying. He is claiming responsibility for the death of my little brother, Little_Lenny_Literal. I can't help but noticing how scrawny he looks. I'm not sure he could even hold a gun with those matchstick arms. MartyMuscles clearly echoes my displeasure. Scrooge is obviously lying. I think I will tell him to get lost because it is obvious he is incapable of killing anyone.

"Get lost, Scrooge," I say. I say that because I would like Scrooge to leave the conversation taking place and not offer any further misinformation about such a serious incident.    

Scrooge flips this ugly man off and stays right where he is.

You don't control me punk

Whoever it was it was a bad way to act but in war many bad thinhs happens so its just to walk with the head up and forget all about it and try to have fun with the rest that remains of all friends each got that gotten killed during this long war.