beautyproof

Hello from the gutters of New York City, which are filled with dog manure, vomit, stale wine, urine, and blood. Hello from the sewers in New York City, which swallow up these delicacies when they are washed away by the sweeper trucks. Hello from the cracks in the sidewalks of New York City, and from the ants that dwell in these cracks, and feed on the dried blood that has settled into the cracks. In the year of 1977, New York City was caught in the grip of a killer. He was smart, ruthless, and deadly. Nobody could stop him. And his name was John Hood. Yeah, it's me. Forget the fuckin' Son of Sam. I'm the one you gotta worry about. This is the story of how I became prince of New York. It's a story of blood and family, darkness and death, absolute fuckin depravity. It's the story of Bloodbath '77