DIBBLES By Dibbles Frank Written By: Dibbles & Mike Hunt (A.K.A. Eye Dee Kaye) 2 Prologue by Mike Hunt: In the dimly lit corners of the world, where the music of life weaves its most intricate symphonies, there exists a legend. A legend born not in glitz and glamour, but amidst the harshest trials and the deepest sorrows. This is the story of Dibbles Frank, a name etched in the annals of history as the best music artist of all time. In the heart of her soul, Dibbles carries a strength unparalleled, forged in the crucible of adversity. Her life has been a tapestry of complexities and hardships, woven with threads of raw emotion and unyielding determination. But through it all, she has emerged as a powerful force, a beacon of resilience in a world that sought to break her spirit. This book is an invitation to embark on a journey, one that promises to be both beautiful and painful. It is a journey into the depths of a life where melodies were born from the echoes of heartache, and lyrics were penned with the ink of survival. Through the pages of "Dibbles," you will witness the rise of an artist who transcended boundaries, defied odds, and left an indelible mark on the world of music. 3 Prepare to be captivated by the remarkable story of Dibbles Frank, the artist whose life was a testament to the enduring power of the human spirit. This is her legacy, etched in the notes of her songs, and it is a legacy that will resonate through the ages. A Message (from Dibbles): As Dibbles, I want to take a moment to express my gratitude to all my incredible friends, my dedicated manager, and my supporters. Your belief in me and your constant support have been the driving force behind my journey as an artist and I couldn’t have done this without myself and my money. I want to take a moment to thank myself for all the hard work, dedication, and commitment that have brought me to this point in my career. It's been a horrible but incredibly rewarding journey, and I couldn't have achieved all these accomplishments without my own determination and passion. So, thank you, Dibbles, for believing in yourself and pushing forward to achieve your dreams. Keep reaching for the stars! 4 Chapter 1: Early Childhood I was born into a life of horrors, surrounded by marble and glass stairs, extravagance that most could only dream of. You see, I sadly came into this world as a member of the wealthiest family in the United Kingdom. It should have been a life of comfort and ease, but my early childhood was anything but. From the very beginning, I felt like an outsider in my own home. My parents, driven by their own ambitions, rarely had time for me. Instead of bedtime stories and warm embraces, my evenings were filled with 30 minutes of homework every night and horrible conversations with my mother who had more interest in my dads fortune than in my well-being. In those tumultuous early years, my nights were often also consumed by a di erent kind of challenge. My mother, despite her wealth, su ered from a debilitating condition known as "Fungal Footitits." This a iction caused her toes to overflow with a grotesque mold, and it left me in excruciating discomfort. I would spend countless hours, often with my bare hands, aggressively scrubbing her toes, trying to alleviate some of her pain. It was a small act of love amidst the chaos of our lives, she barely paid me, only $1000 5 every time... a duty I took on willingly, even though it meant sacrificing the little time I had for myself. My su ering served as a stark reminder of the unpredictability of life, a lesson that would stay with me as I navigated the complexities of my own existence and found the strength to rise above the challenges that lay ahead. My horrible life only gets worse. The challenges at home were nothing compared to what awaited me at school. I su ered from a rare condition known as "Lizzardamania." It was a bizarre a iction that would cause me to transform into a lizard-like creature at the most inconvenient moments. My skin would become scaly, my limbs elongated, and my eyes took on an eerie reptilian quality. It was a terrifying and uncontrollable metamorphosis. As you can imagine, this condition made me an easy target for bullies. The children at my school, led by none other than Mike Hunt , who would later become one of my bandmates, tormented me relentlessly. They mocked my transformations, hurling insults and cruel jokes my way, they would call me “Scale Puss” or “Libbles”. The torment was relentless, and I found solace only in the brief moments of solitude when I could hide away from their prying eyes. 6 My early childhood was marked by isolation, fear, and the constant struggle to hide my true self. Little did I know that these trials would shape me into the person I would become—an amazing and rich musician who would rise above her circumstances and, with the help of unexpected allies like Mike, conquer not only her condition but also the world. 7 Chapter 2: My Early Traumas I- Daddy Issues I remember that day with a mix of horror and disbelief, a traumatic event etched into my memory. At the ripe age of 12, father had called me excitedly, telling me he had a surprise—a brand-new car just for me! My heart soared with anticipation as I imagined the sleek lines and roaring engine of a Ferrari, a car I had dreamt about for as long as I could remember. But when my father finally arrived home, the sight that greeted me shattered my dreams. Instead of the red Ferrari that had danced in my fantasies, he presented me with a horrifying blue electric Toyota. My horror was immediate, my disgust overwhelming. I couldn't contain my disappointment, and tears welled up uncontrollably in my eyes. I couldn't understand why he had done this, why he had crushed my dreams with a choice so far from what I had hoped for. In that moment, I felt a profound sense of betrayal, as if my own desires had been dismissed in favor of saving a penny. 8 The Toyota sat in the driveway, an symbol of shattered dreams, while my screams echoed in the air. All I had wanted was a Ferrari, a symbol of luxury and speed that would have matched my vision of the life I thought I deserved. As my frustration reached its boiling point, it was only natural that I took action. I mean, who could blame me for hitting my father? He obviously needed a lesson in recognizing greatness when it stood before him. I had to pull my mothers hair for her to support me in my request. My demand for a Ferrari was not a mere request; it was an assertion of my divine right to have whatever I desired. Naturally, I expected them to buy me anything, and anyone who dared to resist would face the consequences. Slapping my father was not an act of violence; it was a wake-up call, a reminder of my superiority in all matters. Breaking the neighbor's windows? Well, it was an artistic expression of my annoyance with the world's incompetence, a form of protest that only someone as amazing as I could truly appreciate. As I went in to the house next door, I couldn't help but think the smartness of my decision. Hiding behind the couch in the living room was the epitome of genius, the perfect strategy for avoiding the unworthy souls who failed to understand my greatness. 9 As I crouched behind the couch in the unfamiliar living room of the house next door, I was convinced that I had outsmarted the world. My brilliance, after all, should have made me invisible to those lesser beings. Little did I know, my hiding spot was not as foolproof as I had imagined. Suddenly, I heard the sound of footsteps approaching, and I couldn't believe my ears. Who could possibly have the audacity to disrupt my moment of solitude? As the footsteps grew closer, my heart pounded in my chest. A stranger's voice pierced the silence, exclaiming, "Hey, what the fuck are you doing here?" Panic surged through me as I realized that I had been found. I couldn't comprehend how someone had discovered my amazingly chosen hiding spot. My sense of superiority crumbled, and I felt a mixture of disbelief and fear. I couldn't contain my emotions any longer, and I erupted into a fit of screams and threats. In my traumatized state, I lashed out at the intruder, unable to accept the insane fact that I had been caught. My world had been turned upside down, shattered like glass. I left trembling, unable to comprehend how I had been found and overwhelmed by the shock of being exposed. It was a traumatizing experience, one that shattered my life forever. 10 II- Makeup Brush As life moved forward, my path seemed littered with peculiar mishaps. One such incident that left a mark on my journey was the time I accidentally got a golden makeup brush stuck in my asshole. It sounds absurd, I know, but sometimes, life's twists and turns take us to unexpected places. It all began innocently enough, with a misplaced brush that I left on my chair. I sat down, and as I was applying makeup in front of the mirror. in a moment of sheer misfortune, the golden brush I was holding flew from my hand and disappeared into the depths of my asshole. Panic set in, and I realized that this was no ordinary mishap; I had genuinely lodged a makeup brush up my ass. I attempted every futile maneuver to dislodge it, from sitting on the toilet to putting my hand in my ass, but to no avail. It became obvious that I needed professional help. With a sense of embarrassment and trepidation, I sought medical attention, where a team of skilled doctors performed a delicate surgery on my asshole to remove the large brush that had slipped through my crack. The experience was both humiliating and humbling. It taught me that life could throw unexpected challenges our way, the way I threw that brush through my crack. 11 III- Cup In a tale filled with bizarre twists, my visit to the doctor took an unexpected and embarrassing turn. The terrible doctor, stupidly concerned about my health, requested a piss sample for testing. You would think that a person of my amazing intellect and beauty would handle such a request with grace, As the nurse handed me a horrible plastic cheap sterile cup and directed me towards the restroom, I felt a rising sense of horror. The mere thought of giving a sample of my blessed piss to a random doctor scared me. How could they question my perfect health? Do they want to drink one of my secret liquids? I decided to stage an elaborate charade. I locked myself in the restroom and embarked on an act that would rival the finest theater productions. I filled the cup with water and added a dash of yellow food coloring, knowing my genius plan would fool even the most discerning medical professionals. When I returned with my concoction, I presented it with an air of smug satisfaction, convinced that I had outsmarted them all. But the universe betrayed me yet again. Days later, I received a call from the doctor's o ce, and my smug facade crumbled as the nurse delivered shocking news. The urine sample I had so cunningly fabricated had tested positive for AIDS, COVID and Alzheimers. I chose not to get any treatment, but sadly, it’s 12 still in my record to this day. In a painful twist of irony, my dishonesty had revealed a reality I couldn't deny. . The diagnosis of those diseases in my fabricated urine sample left me in a state of shock and insecurity. I couldn't escape the irony that my deceit had led to this situation. The weight of my actions bore down on me, and I grappled with feelings of guilt and self-loathing. 13 Chapter 3: Horrible Hamburger The day I set foot in McDonald's was unlike any other in my life. I had always looked at this place with hate, convinced that it was reserved for those homeless people, and certainly beneath someone of my standing. But love, or in this case, infatuation, has a way of making us do unexpected things. My crush, the object of my a ection, had an inexplicable obsession with McDonald's. In an attempt to win their heart, I swallowed my pride and bravely went into the fast-food establishment. The menu o ered an array of horrible items, each one a stark departure from the gourmet cuisine I was accustomed to. With a hesitant breath, I placed an order that I hoped would impress my crush. A burger. As I took my first bite, my world came crashing down. The meat, if it could even be called that, had a texture that was nothing short of revolting. It was a far cry from the succulent steaks, wagyu, or filet mignon I was accustomed to savoring. Unable to conceal my disappointment and anger, I spat out the dreadful morsel and, in a moment of sheer frustration, directed my hate toward the ugly waitress and stupid employees. My screams and outbursts painted an ugly scene, just as ugly as the restaurant. I saw that people started looking at me from the children’s play area, my frustration 14 escalated further so I made my way to the children's play area and began throwing children o the little structure they were playing on. I kept throwing and throwing and throwing until I saw one of the ugly parents on the phone, seemingly to the police. Faced with the idea of legal consequences for my acceptable behavior, I made a quick decision. I went up behind a kid and his dad, and snatched a wallet from his pocket, as well as take his child with me, and fled the scene, leaving behind the chaos I had created. In my blue Toyota, I drove back home, stopping by Target to drop o the child. 15 Chapter 4: The Worst Calamari It was a warm, sunny day when I walked into a restaurant I had never been to before. I was craving seafood, and I saw the sign on the window advertising fresh calamari. I couldn't help but be tempted by the thought of a delicious, fried calamari. I walked in and took a seat at the bar, where I ordered a plate of crispy calamari. When the food was placed in front of me, I was overjoyed. I took my first bite, and that's when everything went horribly wrong. I could feel a strange feeling in my mouth, like something crunchy and slimy at the same time. But, I kept eating, assuming it was just part of the calamari. As I took my second bite, the strange feeling was even stronger, and I realized something was seriously wrong. I glanced down at my plate, and that's when I saw it. In the midst of the fried calamari were dozens of tiny black, moving tentacles. I started to panic, and quickly spit out what was in my mouth. I quickly realized that these tiny black tentacles were not just some weird calamari delicacy. No, they were real, live octopuses that had been battered, fried, and served to me as calamari. 16 The realization hit me like a ton of bricks, and I immediately felt nauseous. I tried to control my gag reflex, but it was too late. I had swallowed some of the batter, and it tasted vile. As I began to hyperventilate, and my stomach started to feel strange, I quickly stood up. I began to scream and cry uncontrollably, causing a scene at the restaurant. I picked up people's plates and started throwing them on the floor as I continued to hyperventilate and cry. It was a mixture of shock, horror, and anger. People were staring at me, unsure of how to react. Some people seemed shocked, while others appeared confused. Some even started laughing, which made the situation even worse. As my crying and screaming continued, the rest of the restaurant became panicked. People started to shout, run and hide, while some tried to restrain me. I started to throw plates at the employees in a fit of rage and madness. I screamed at them that they were trying to serve me octopuses, not calamari. I was right. How dare they serve me fried octopus instead of calamari? Disgusted, I start pulling pregnant women’s hair and punching them in the stomach. The employees were shocked, and quickly tried to restrain me and calm me down. People around the restaurant began to panic, and some even called the police. As I continued to cry and scream, the entire place was in a state of chaos. I saw an opportunity to escape, 17 and quickly snatched someone's phone and ran out of the restaurant. I quickly ran to my blue Toyota, and sat in the driver's seat, shaking from the trauma. 18 Chapter 5: Troye Sivan I don't want to talk about Troye Sivan, I want to forget about Troye Sivan, but I feel compelled to share my traumatic experience with this gay monster of a human being. From the first moment I laid eyes on him, when I was 18 I felt a sense of unease and fear. There was something about his face, his voice, his entire being that just felt wrong, like a dangerous predator hiding in the shadows. Even the first time I heard his voice, I immediately passed out after having a panic attack. As I recovered from my panic attack, I heard his music coming from a nearby radio. When I heard his voice, I froze in fear and terror. Suddenly, I saw his face appear in my mind's eye - his piercing blue eyes staring right at me with a demonic expression. I was terrified and felt an overwhelming sense of dread. I knew I needed to get far away from this monster, and fast. But before I could act, I heard his voice again and fainted from fear. It wasn't long before I found myself lying in a hospital bed, surrounded by doctors and nurses. They told me I had been unconscious for several days. They also told me that I was in no condition to be released, and that I would have to stay in the hospital for a few more days. 19 But even with the calming atmosphere of the hospital and the doctors' kind voices, I still felt a sense of impending dread and anxiety. Every time I heard Troye's voice echo in my mind, I felt like I was about to pass out again.I did my best to keep my mind occupied with other thoughts, but every so often, I couldn't help but think about Troye Sivan and his terror-inducing music. One night, I had a nightmare. I dreamed that Troye was standing over my hospital bed, smiling menacingly. I tried to scream, but no sound came out. I tried to move, but my body was paralyzed. All I could do was watch as Troye slowly approached me, his smile growing wider and more evil with each step. In my nightmare, Troye Sivan began saying the gayest things I had ever heard, as his demonic spirits popped out and surrounded my hospital bed. I tried to scream, but the words were caught in my throat. I tried to crawl away, but my body was paralyzed. All I could do was watch in terror as Troye approached my bed and took my hand. As his demonic spirits whispered gay things in my ear, he looked deep into my eyes and smiled evilly. I tried to fight the fear and panic, but it was too much. I woke up screaming.After my horrifying encounter with Troye Sivan, I had to go to a mental hospital to deal with the trauma and anxiety his gayness caused me. But, as they say, "what doesn't kill you, makes you stronger." 20