The Leviathan’s Eye

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.