Dear CH-Pistol,

If you are reading this note, I am either dead or fucking your sister. (If you were wondering, I wasn't your dad--is EVERYONE else in our world really born after their parents die? Do we split the wound with a tommy gun in hand? But I digress...) Either way means that I'm far from wherever you are; I'm not of this world and onto a warmer or colder life--you could say a 'better life'. It is true that, for these past few months, I've taken you under my wing and shown you what not and apparently what not to do. Again, the fact that you read this letter means I've failed to cut it. A bullet to the brain or your sister's cooch will do that. By the way we're going to name the kid 'Enzytefuckingyoursister', isn't that a gas? 

I'm sorry, I know you just got this strange letter dropped on your doorstep, and I'm also sorry I never said goodbye. Whether it's the mob or your sister, a man can never foresee such things. Can you predict when someone is going to pull the trigger, or whether or not your sister is in heat? All it takes for a second to change everything, and there's never enough time to hunt you down and explain what is happening. Besides, do you really want to hear about how much I'm going to be railing your sister in Boca Raton? I'm talking raw doggin' it then back alley coat hanger jobs, like real nasty grimey stuff. Your sister is gonna regret coming down here with me, but she loves me so much she'll never leave me. But if I'm dead we'll never even talk about that!

With the end inevitably always around the corner, I began to wonder where'd you be when I was gone. For sure you have the smarts to survive; you don't turn to crime cause it's easy. Any asshole can rob a store or extort a whore for quick cash. (Like your sister. Man does she love some weird stuff. One time I saw her take an eggplant and...well, let's just say we had some italian cuisine later on.) It takes true guts and chutzpah to earn that button. 

Below I've compiled a list of guidelines to follow. A general rule of thumb, so to speak. So allow me:

1. Shoot everything. And not just gangsters, I mean everything: alley animals, small children, butterflies, the pope so help-him-God. If it can carry a bullet, MAKE SURE IT DIES. Sometimes I'd go to the pet store and buy all the puppies, then bring them home, throw them in a barrel, and start unloading. It got me hard enough to fuck your sister.

2. Question every move by every leader. Sure, they were chosen by other leaders and their word is final, but what if they start spewing bullshit? "The earth is round!" "Drinking only alcohol all day will kill you quick!" "CH-pistol's sister is a virgin saint!" Are you going to let that fly?

3 Don't sell ANY drugs. In fact, don't commit ANY crimes other than endless murder. Gotta keep a low profile! Also, who does your boss think he is, asking for tribute? Grace him with your presence! Besides, I make sure to send your sister to my leader's place anyways, might wanna get yourself your own girl for that reason. 

4. Respond to what everyone says. Don't even have to read from a book, either. A quick "nice" is sufficient. What more needs to be said? When your sister is done with me, that's all I give her--then she cleans up. What a good girl.

5. Auth yourself ASAP. Fuck it. Why not. (Uh...I auth'd your sister?)

I think that should be enough. Sorry for dying and/or taking your sister to Boca Raton for years of wearing her out. You know I loved you like a son.

Best,

Enzyte

So what I'm getting from this is that your sister is easy.

Is she hot? Can I look her up?

What gives you that impression?

Start with Boca Raton.