"Aha! My masterpiece is finished!".

Daxter spent the whole night meditating on the darkest crevices of his soul to work it out, today was the day he would finally be recognized for his art! He had been waiting for so long to come out of his shell and unleash the brutality onto the pages for millions of readers everywhere to admire. But most of all, he'd finally show Jak who's really wearing the pants around here. Now was his chance, but before he spent too long fantasizing about the future he had to win over the judges.

Daxter remembered the judges we're known to the disgruntled failures and even winners of the previous competitions to be major 'booksnobs'. Elitist about which pieces of writing they would ever let cross their eyes and tough to please. In previous years he had secretly been following the other competition and studying their works, looking for tips on good writing and on many occasions he saw crushed faces and tears as they ripped out of the building after a big loss. He mused that writers must've been a very sensitive lot, the type that cried along to episodes of "Passions" during the shows peak. Then feared that maybe those judges really we're that hard.

He daydreamed on reading in a dark room for a wicked witch of the west type of hag who would use her black magic to sprout him a second head for disrespecting her linguistic authority. Cackling and all..

"Hey space cakes, it's time to go!" Daxter jumped at Jak's interruption but composed himself in the second. Jak grinned maliciously and set the ottsel on his usual perch on his shoulder.

"You know you're going down Jak, this is brutal like you can't even imagine!"

Not another word was exchanged as they left their little apartment above the Naughty Ottsel and headed just down the street where the contest was. The joint was pretty much as Daxter imagined earlier, wicked librarian types behind the judges table and all. There wasn't much for an elaborate setup, you just showed up, lined up single file, gave your name when it was your turn and read what you've got. At the end the 1st place winner would be called up to the stage and be given a sponser for their work to be published, there we're no second, third places or consolation prizes. After that the judges would take the losers out one by one and tell them exactly what was wrong with their writing. This is what Daxter feared most as he advanced through the line remembering the crushed faces once again.

"What is your name sir?" one of the old ladies drawled out. Time must've slipped away as they we're already at the front.

"Jak, and this is Daxter." he said giving him a light pat on the back. "He will be going after me, please don't ask any questions about his appearance."

"Alright.. go on." She seemed bored but Daxter could see the analytical gleam in her eyes.

'Pure darkness seeps through every pore in my flesh like a beautiful disease.
Transforming the very essence of my soul into one of bloodlust and rage.
I sip on my morning tea as I rip your limbs apart into sections of three.
Before me my revenge lies gruesomely scattered before me on this dreary day.

I smile at my accomplishment through rotting teeth.'

"That is all..."

The old ladies behind the counter wrote down their scores and evaluations wordlessly, Daxter barely caught on as they stopped writing and simply motioned him to show them his stuff.

He gulped and began to read..