Patrick Rothfuss,

“Chronicla shook his head n' Bast gave a gangbangin' frustrated sigh. "How tha fuck bout plays, biatch? Has you done peepedor?"Chronicla frowned. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "Is dat tha one where tha mackdaddy sells his crown ta a orphan boy?"Bast nodded. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "And tha pimp becomes a funky-ass betta mackdaddy than tha original. It aint nuthin but tha nick nack patty wack, I still gots tha bigger sack. Da goosegirl dresses like a cold-ass lil countess n' mah playas is stunned by her grace n' charm." Dude hesitated, strugglin ta find tha lyrics da thug wanted. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! This type'a shiznit happens all tha time. "Yo ass see, there be a a gangbangin' fundamenstrual connection betweenn'. Every Fae lil pimp knows dis yo, but you mortals never seem ta see. We KNOW how tha fuck fucked up a mask can be. We all become what tha fuck we pretend ta be."Chronicla chillaxed a funky-ass bit, sensin familiar ground. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "Thatz basic psychology. Yo ass dress a funky-ass beggar up in fine clothes, playas treat his ass like a noble, n' he lives up ta they expectations.""Thatz only tha smallest piece of it," Bast holla'd. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "Da truth is deeper than dis shit. It's..." Bast floundered fo' a moment. "It aint nuthin but like mah playas drops some lyrics ta a rap bout theyselves inside they own head. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Always fo' realz. All tha time. That rap make you what tha fuck yo ass is. We build ourselves outta dat story."Frowning, Chronicla opened his crazy-ass grill yo, but Bast held up a hand ta stop his muthafuckin ass. "Fuck dat shit, listen. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Ya Mom shoulda told ya, I gots it now, nahmeean, biatch? Yo ass hook up a girl: shy, unassuming. If you tell her da hoe dope, she'll be thinkin you dope yo, but dat biiiiatch won't believe you, biatch. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch knows dat beauty lies up in yo' beholding." Bast gave a grudgin shrug. "And sometimes thatz enough."His eyes brightened. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "But there be a a funky-ass betta way. Yo assher her ass is dope naaahhmean, biatch? Yo ass make mirrorz of yo' eyes, lyrics of yo' handz against her body. Well shiiiit, it is hard, straight-up hard yo, but when dat dunkadelic hoe truly believes you, biatch..." Bast gestured excitedly. "Suddenly tha rap dat dunkadelic hoe drops some lyrics ta her muthafuckin ass up in her own head chizzles. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch transforms. Boy it's gettin hot, yes indeed it is. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch aint. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch is.""What tha hell is dat supposed ta mean?" Chronicla snapped. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "Yo ass is just spoutin nonsense now, nahmeean?""I be spoutin too much sense fo' you ta understand," Bast holla'd testily. "But you close enough ta peep mah point.”