“Destined for a life where narrative is perpetually fluid that it breaks all complacent sentiments and reported normalcy contained between pages of books. Writing is the most important aspect, of course it is, there is no doubt about that pseudo-reality, but there is something much more going on, not just syntactically, but aesthetically, how the fonts, the sizes, create a whole other synaptic expression.” Or that above statement is just bullshit, we-ell, that's for you, dear reader to decide. Enter the world of the Multi-Dysfunctional Narrative-Verse, where narratives bid, in their scope and lunacy, for dominance on the books page. Where Latin is being damaged and used to make the author seem smarter than he is (or she or Xe or it is?) and where one-story leaks into another. One (smartass) could point out it is a messy assemblage of various short stories awfully shoved together, but the God of Multi-Dysfunctional narrative-Verse books would disagree and show you the door. Bad presumptuous reader, bad! It is about memory, recollecting memories that are not our own, but are somehow linking us to the next alien invader or mad Monk who discovers that a grain of rice holds the power of all Gods ever whittled on about in time and space. This book, this deluge of recollection is about the similarities between all things; whether it is shepherds guiding a goat through the wastelands of a war zone, or whether it is a very late in his rebirth Jesus H Christ, reincarnated in a world obsessed with social media, to such extreme degrees that Jesus H must craft a new, more modern image of himself, or a gay guy who fancies his super bro-ish flat mate, and wishes to meld into him, or a nameless wanderer who isn’t even in the book, but you know is secretly pulling the strings…. Look! The point is… the universe/universes and all that inhabit them are all united by this thing called… Fragmented Remembrance. So, don’t questi