I was born into a family of urban cannibals. I relish extreme violence and the way the blood splatters on the walls. At night, I walk the streets with a wooden club concealed behind my back and strike the tables at the Capitol wine cellar where the sleeping drunks have lost track of time.

I am incredibly anti-social and quarrelsome, despising people and spitting directly on the faces of those who disagree with me. Unrefined and full of bitterness, I curse like a curmudgeon at those genteel souls who are intellectually and morally superior to me.

As soon as I arrive home, I make my way to the balcony and begin hurling rotten apples and tomatoes at the innocent passers-by below. I flip them the bird and shout obscenities they cannot comprehend.

But who are you to judge me, you bloody animal? Your bewildered expression stirs my fury and the insatiable urge to slap you across the face. Incandescent with rage, I descend the staircase in the dead of night and smother my neighbours' doors with a mixture of raw eggs, margarine, and cooking oil.

Tomorrow is a significant religious holiday, and the populace flocks to the church to pray and gossip.

What a lovely summer it is!