ZEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEPH

I live in a low income housing environment that goes by the government name of "Section 8." Me and a group of my allies control certain areas of this section in order to run our illegitimate business. We possess unregistered firearms, stolen vehicles, mind-altering inhibitors and only use cash for financial purchases. If anyone would like to settle unfinished altercations, I will be more than happy to release my address. I would like to warn you; I am a very dangerous person and I regularly disobey the law.

IF YOU WERE KILLED TOMORROW, I WOULDN'T GO TO YOUR FUNERAL CUZ I'D BE IN JAIL FOR KILLING THE MOTHER ♥♥♥♥♥♥ THAT KILLED YOU!


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WE ARE TRUE HOMIE'S...
WE RIDE TOGETHER...
WE DIE TOGETHER...
Send this gun to everyone you care about including me if you care about me. See how many times you get this, if you get 12 your a 'TRUE HOMIE'.

My name is Patrick Bateman. I'm 27 years old. I believe in taking care of myself, and a balanced diet, and a rigorous exercise routine. In the morning, if my face is a little puffy, I'll put on an ice pack while doing my stomach crunches. I can do 1,000 now. After I remove the ice pack I use a deep-pore cleanser lotion. In the shower I use a water-activated gel cleanser, then a honey-almond body scrub, and on the face, an exfoliating gel-scrub. Then I apply an herb mint facial masque which I leave on for ten minutes as I prepare the rest of my routine. I always use an aftershave lotion with little or no alcohol, because alcohol dries your face out and makes you look older. There is an idea of a Patrick Bateman. Some kind of abstraction, but there is no real me. Only an entity— something illusory. And though I can hide my cold gaze, and you can shake my hand and feel flesh gripping yours, and maybe you can even sense our life styles are probably comparable, I simply am not there.

My name is Walter Hartwell White. I live at 308 Negra Arroyo Lane, Albuquerque, New Mexico, 87104. This is my confession. If you're watching this tape, I'm probably dead, murdered by my brother-in-law Hank Schrader. Hank has been building a meth empire for over a year now and using me as his chemist. Shortly after my 50th birthday, Hank came to me with a rather, shocking proposition. He asked that I use my chemistry knowledge to cook meth, which he would sell using his connections in the drug world. I was... astounded, I... I always thought that Hank was a very moral man and I was... thrown, confused, but I was also particularly vulnerable at the time, something he knew and took advantage of. I was reeling from a cancer diagnosis that was poised to bankrupt my family. Hank took me on a ride along, and showed me just how much money even a small meth operation could make. I didn't want my family to go into financial ruin so I agreed. Every day, I think back at that moment with regret.

You are the rat to my tootie...