(no subject)
Whither thou and thou goest, there I go.
But I'm long overdue to quit. Basically, whenever I think of Sam, instead of a story, I get an image of him going slowly insane in an apartment. That’s no life for a Sammich. And it’s not fair to any of you to have a shitty Sam in the game when someone could have fun playing him. I only hope that the next Sam has as much fun with him as I’ve had, because it’s been a blast.
The decision to kill Sam really came about because I couldn’t figure out what the hell happened in between being able to write like this:
My sandwich sagged over like a drunk in search of a supportive lamppost and leaked fluid.
And this:
I heated it up and wolfed down my half angrily, trying with some success to swallow the sausages whole. A few of them broke in my mouth and I can't even talk about that.
To just churning out crap with a hauwhuh at the end. What the fuck happened? Who knows? So without my customary Dan and Paul, well...it's just time.
But I wanted to thank everybody on my list, because before Sam, I’d never done any sort of creative writing. This got me started writing seriously, and that’s an immense thing. Thank you, all of you. I mean it. Playing Sam has been so much fun, and I have many, many fond memories of shooting the shit in chat, not commenting to Rzez (I’m going to miss you; feel free to comment, just this once, for old time’s sake?) being a sort of muddled Casanova who got dumped a lot and had a screwed up laugh. Tour bus stories, drama, intrigue, hookers in the Italian Family Restaurant and stealing in Japan. Duck rescues. Gummi bears. Secret Wall Tattoos. Babalu-aye. Retarded pets. Good times.
And here the moose laid down his pen.]