Fictional Me: A List
The lovely @natanya sent me this request. As such, I must fulfill my listing duty. Thank you, my friend.
- •I was born in 1867 to a family of mountain goats in the Bavarian mountains.
- •I was named: "Bahhhhhhhhhhh", which roughly translates as: "He Who Has No Horns", and was proud of my people.
- •When I was six, it was discovered that I was not, in fact, a goat.
- •I was then taken to a school. There, I was trained in the classical arts: poetry, looming, go-go dancing, pottery, nude pottery, nudity, advanced nudity, avoiding the police, avoiding capture from butterfly nets, golf, and panning for gold.
- •After school, I was given my first spoon. Legally, my spoon was my only source of legal tender, and could be alienated by bequest, descent, or devise.
- •I was apprenticed as a high school principal until I was 23. From there, I was given a suit of clothes, and sent out into the world.
- •After leaving to go out into the world, I put on the suit. I had majored in: "evading capture from the police due to nudity", so I knew the ropes.
- •I spent many years on the mean streets of Santa Rosa, plying my wares as a hire-by-the-hour submarine.
- •After years of confusion and poverty, I set my sights on leaving California. I rode the rails as a soft-spoken hobo/submarine. I went everywhere.
- •After about a month, I quickly realized I had never actually left Santa Rosa on the rails as a hobo/submarine, as I had been trapped on the couch watching: "Benson" reruns.
- •For weeks, I wandered...never knowing where I would end up. I had pawned my spoon in order to feed my $79.00 a day Chiclet habit.
- •Finally, I had a vision! A image in my head! I would quit watching "Benson" reruns, and go back to being a goat again!
- •I got my spoon out of hock, and headed back to my goat family. There, I met: "MEHaHHHHHAHaHaHaEHHHh", my wife, another goat. Her name roughly translates as: "Insane Premise Keeps Running Throughout Story".
- •Today, I am happy among my goat children and friends.
- •The End.