Looks like I’m going to have to return to the American labor force. The millions of dollars from book sales have not materialized. I thought for sure I’d be able to retire after Bunny Man. It’s really fucking sad when an American writer has to scrub potties and Windex mirrors for a living. Where’s my castle? Where’s my unicorn? Where’s my Evan Stone sex slave? Damn you, Evil Powers That Be. You have defeated me, reduced me to so much sugar dust. Here’s the white flag you’ve been waiting for.