The details of my life are quite inconsequential. But very well, where shall I begin? My father was a relentlessly self-improving boulangerie owner from Belgium with low-grade narcolepsy and a penchant for buggery. My mother was a fifteen-year-old French prostitute named Chloe with webbed feet. My father would womanize, he would drink, he would make outrageous claims, like he invented the question mark. Sometimes he would accuse chestnuts of being lazy. A sort of general malaise that only the genius possess and the insane lament. My childhood was typical. Summers in Rangoon, luge lessons. In the spring we'd make meat helmets. If I was insolent, I was placed in a burlap bag and beaten with reeds. Pretty standard, really. At the age of twelve I received my first scribe. At the age of fifteen, a Zoroastrian named Vilma ritualistically shaved my testicles. There really is nothing like a shaven scrotum. I suggest you try it.
Northern Kentucky, USA, Earth, Milky Way
The dummy capital of the world...Fort Mitchell, KY
I sell propane and propane accessories
"Hi" - Shakespeare
They're all crooks
On Sundays it's Welcome To the Jungle
The Cat In the Hat
That one with the guy who goes to the place and to get the thing and then he escapes from the place.