11 | P a g e Prologue I was a thirty-four-year-old man with no job and nowhere to live. I was a nice guy, but I was on the heavy side, didn’t have good looks going for me, and was in the midst of regretting my entire life. I’d only been homeless for about three hours. Before that, I’d been the classic, stereotypical, long-time shut-in who wasn’t doing anything with his life. And then, all of a sudden, my parents died. Being the shut-in that I was, I obviously didn’t attend the funeral, or the family gathering thereafter. It was quite the scene when they kicked me out of the house afterward. My brash behavior around the house hadn’t won anyone over. I was the sort of guy who’d bang on the walls and floors to get people’s attention without leaving my room. On the day of the funeral, I was halfway through jerking off, my body arched in the air, when my brothers and sisters barged into my room in their mourning garb and delivered their letter formally disowning me. When I ignored it, my younger brother smashed my computer—which I valued more than myself—with a wooden bat. Meanwhile, my older brother, the one with a black belt in karate, stormed over in a blind rage and beat the crap out of me. I just let it happen, sobbing uselessly all the while, hoping that would be the end of it. But my siblings forced me out of the house with nothing but the clothes on my back. I had no choice but to wander around town, nursing the throbbing pain in my side. It felt like I had a broken rib. The biting words they hurled at me as I left our house would ring in my ears for the rest of my life. The things they said cut me to my very core. I was completely, totally heartbroken.