Post by GRANT JONATHAN RITTON on Feb 19, 2013 20:33:17 GMT -5
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[style=width:350px; font-family: josefin sans; font-size: 30px; letter-spacing: 0px; text-align:center; color: #000; line-height: 80%; text-transform: uppercase; padding-bottom: 5px;]GRANT RITTON
CRIMINAL. SHANE. NICHOLAS HOULT. CON ARTIST. 20. DECEPTIVE. INTELLIGENT. SLICK.
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,386,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style, width:130px; height: 200px; background-image: url(http://media.tumblr.com/217e007daee73af8f300638f16900ced/tumblr_inline_mihvsjTnAm1qz4rgp.jpg);][/style] | [style=height: 180px; overflow: auto; font-size: 9px;]how it all happened again; I'm not exactly one to repeat myself. My name is Grant Jonathan Ritton and I was born just over nineteen years ago when an asshole and a drunken pill popper decided it would be fun to sleep together and put their luck to the test. Guess that proved just how shit their luck was; they ended up with me, after all. Now, before you ask what could possibly be wrong with me, besides the fact that I've been stuck in therapy twice a week for the past month and a half; let me be the first to tell you that I've got a slight attitude problem. I don't hold respect for other people and their rights as human beings. I've been told that I come off as having a superiority complex... and I fear those may only be the compliments I've received. You wouldn't want to know how the insults have gone, but I'm sure - all things considered - that you can build some sort of idea based on what I've told you so far alone. Dad thought he had the perfect cover for his addictions, bet you thought he would be the ass in all this and she'd be the drunk, huh? Wrong. Anyway, he thought he had it under control till someone spilled the story to mom just because he didn't get his cut of the stash he'd found. I'm hoping you can tell who that rat was without me going into that confession, I can only 'cleanse my soul' so many times before I start to feel like I'm becoming too saint-like and have to destroy my chances at being a 'good' person all over again to fix that horrid feeling. Mom got wind of what was going on. Dad got the boot and I stepped up to be the man of the house. Easy so far, right? Well, here's where it gets complicated. Not for me, of course, but it's a little twisted and I would hate to lose such a potentially captive moment. I've never been anything special in my own life and in my own family; so I decided to find a new one. It doesn't take long to figure out who can't keep their sexual conquests to themselves and it's even easier to pick up on the families that are in need of a new member. People get killed every day, no big deal. Anyway, there's this one family that really caught my eye. Maybe you've heard of them; the Ramones? Yeah, I thought so. They own that "Wicked" place. I never thought it'd be so easy to get in line for an inheritance. All I had to do was show up and say that the man that'd just lost his wife was my father through some screwed up line of one night stands and he accepted me into his life, no questions asked. He's got this bitch of a daughter that I've yet to make my mind up on yet, but I guess as long as she stays out of my way and her, I mean our dad loves me as much as he says he does, there shouldn't be a problem. |
