I opened my eyes as soon my mind felt touched with reality, my only view was the roof of my bed. My left hand reached out upon the air next to my bedside as though there was a doctor who required my wrist to count my heart beat. Instead, I reached for my cane. It was a four and a half foot wooden cane with a strange design at the top carved into it. It was as though the wood circled around each other like a duel and finally dived in at the top, inside was a large diamond, big enough to fit tightly against the wood as though to beg for freedom and mercy from prison. I had it made to fit my hand if I was to hold it at the top or hold it around the diamond cage so it feels comfortable when beating Reginald without any sign of any slippage. I had decided against following the store keeper home and beating him for my money back on the account of the splendid job he did. I was really impressed.

Today, I received a letter from Sir Montgomery Baron asking for I, Vincent Asworth, to attend a meeting discussing the usual problems caused by the peasants that we, noble men, must solve with our superior intellect and power. Usually, I tell the folks a list of excuses of why I can not attend but this time, I had to attend as I had a problem I felt it was quite important to bring up. Recently, there was a certain...Incident regarding one ship breaking upon the rocks. It's cargo was very valuable as it was certain types of liquor that I enjoy consuming and other private goods. One of which belonged to me. While I felt it would be best not to release information regarding what it was, it was something that I had ordered which I knew would be hard to collect otherwise. I knew the retailer would not compensate me on the boat ending up full of holes so I was expecting to be able to shove the bill to the counsel or at least someone else because there was no chance I was paying for what isn't in my hands.

Later that day, when dressed in my usual black shoes, my formal trousers, white collar shirt with grey tint, a black waist coast, a black formal jacket and a black plain top hat, I attended. The usual men was there. Christian Montomy in his classic black coat, crimson waist jacket and black trousers. He always never wore a hat and was the only man in the hall without a hat on his lap. He had white comb-over hair and white lamb-chop sideburns which loops around to a handle-bars moustache, thick enough to hide his lips. Christian is the owner of an oil company I work at, I help present the company to people and represent them if Christian is away. To help sell the oil, I sometimes am required to do small presentations of how our oil is apparently better than others with hollow promises such as reliability and stability of it. Jonathan Ronswell was a tacky man wearing cheap trousers and coat (always all in that cheap black which is really charcoal) and was barely able to be classed as one of us to everyone else and not able to be classed as even on the same level as the rest of us to me. His mother and father was one of those peasant scum and he only scrounged his way out because some fool felt sorry for him. He now manages money for some business and there-fore gets a fair slice. Why they consider him worthy enough to be here is beyond me. As always, stubble facial hair and blonde mushroom hair cut too scruffy to be genetically superior like the rest of us. His cheap tacky bowler hat sat on his lap.

Those two were the only real people I cared about today. Christian because he's my boss and Jonathan because I wanted to open his skull open and throw his brains at his boss for his boss's stupidity. As always, Mr M Baron rose to the stand and made a mild introduction. With no surprise, Jonathan complained about how thieves were cutting a SHOCKING TWENTY PENCE OUT OF HIS POCKET A YEAR. Pfffttt, twenty pence is NOTHING. He whined how the roads needed better security and, with a lack of surprise, his idea was shot down since it would cost five times how much they'd save if they sent out guards to look over the countrysides and if his view was to be taken seriously, he would need some proof and some major backing. He sat down in a huff, nincompoop.

I then rose and raised the fact that a boat crashed and we demanded some form on compensation off the baron or the fools in charge of the boat. While Mr Baron was going to quickly shoot me down, a Mr Rinsdale rose to back my view and so did about four others. It was obvious Mr Baron could not quickly just dismiss my problem so he told us that we'd have compensation for our goods if he submit how much we paid for our goods, what they were and he'll get as much as he can out of the ship's crew. There were other things but they didn't regard me.

I think I heard Mr Ronswell yell after me as I left the meeting but I did not care to talk to a man with artificial intelligence as him. It was as I reflected on the meeting over the consumption of whiskey as my delicate fingers played the piano that I realised truly how much I hated Mr Ronswell. It was my hate for him that truly protected him as everyone knows, the killer is usually going to gain financially or quelling some hatred for the man. So by killing him, I'd be giving myself a prison sentence. I ended up only having about three glasses of whiskey that night as I pondered about life it's self. I of course kissed mother and father that night but I didn't beat Reginald since he was in his room which was filthied up by his black hands (which is why I always make him wear white gloves outside his room, always). If he's stolen anything and hid it in his room, I will find out and I will beat him to an inch of his life.

That night, I got an early night and went straight to bed no later than at twelve 'o clock. Here is a piece of music I heard a young lady play on a piano that plucked upon my heart strings a little. I must remember to find out the name of this fine little track so I may purchase some of the sheet music. It simply is delightful, do you not agree gentlemen?

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