Guns for Hire

Dear Whoever the Hell You Are,

Firstly I would just like to say congratulations. I don't know how you found this book; my brother is an expert at making evidence disappear, so either he was insanely drunk and forgot to properly destroy this thing or you are insanely brilliant and managed to dig it up with your genius and wit. My money is on the former.

Regardless of how you came about it, the fact of the matter is you have it now. Which means if you haven't already, your curious little mind is going to tell you it's a good idea to open it up and read its contents. Don't read its contents. This book contains everything you could ever hope for in a novel: Exciting scenarios, lovable characters, comical conversations, so many plot twists it should be illegal... and me of course, but this book can and will inevitably lead to your death. If you by some miracle don't die from uncontrollable laughter, hardcore emotional whiplash, or a good ole case of SBS (Sans Brother Syndrome) we will have no other choice but to kill you. You see, this book isn't only the best thing that happened to you since Netflix, it also holds secrets that prove not only me and my associates' existence, but our involvement in things that are considered extremely illegal. You knowing of its existence proves our existence and therefore endangers all parties involved. In other words: you must die.

I'd be lying if I said I was sorry, but know that when I find you and strangle you until I see the life drain from your eyes, you might be terrified, but I'll be thoroughly enjoying the experience. It's a Sans thing. ;)

So... yea. I'd start reading if I were you. You're as good as dead anyways.

See you soon,
Cobalt L. Sans

**WARNING**
This story contains dark humor and violent themes along with content that may be offensive to some audience members. Reader digression is advised.