I am half way through the book, Diceman, and I was reading away fairly engrossed thinking to myself with an evil grin, "I have a pair of die at home somewhere", and then I turned the page to start the next chapter, chapter Forty One. This chapter actually goads the reader into getting a pair of die for one's self and tempts the reader to start the Diceman way of life. I was thinking a week, maybe, see how it goes, see what options I would dare give myself and dare myself again to carry them through. Who am I to question the will of the dice...
"And you, Reader, good friend and fellow fool my reader, you, yes you, my sweet cipher, are the Dice Man. Having read this far you are doomed to carry with you burned forever in your soul the self I've here portrayed: the Dice Man. You are Multiple and one of you is me. I have created in you a flea which will forever make you itch. Ah, Reader, you never should have let me be born. Other selves bite now and no doubt. But the Dice Man flea demands to be scratched at every moment: he is insatiable. You will never know an itchless moment again - unless, of course, you become the flea" |