Excuse my bastardization of the most mediocre of famous playwrights, but I'm obviously a piece of work.
Some life motto. Too short to rush? Then how, dear reader, do I explain I Walked 47 Miles Of Barbed Wire?
It starts out pretty good, in my humble opinion. And then when I get towards the end, it was like I was rushing to post on a schedule because... well, I was. I wanted to post it that day, and was so enthralled with the first half, and then the hour came that I needed to pick up my wife, so I wrote this bullshit excuse for an ending and posted it.
I apologize. I have broken off the story where the first chapter should have ended, and will present you with a second chapter that I don't find so embarrassing.