Fear my hat!

I was born in the back lot of an A&W in Tulsa. It was a not a traditional birth, but more of a materialization like in Terminator 2. I was born in the future, sent to the past, but was kicked out of the past for my futuristic ways. Thus, I ended up in the present, i.e. current time.

At the age of 5, I was the victim of an explosion when I was minding my own business by a nuclear waste dumping site (the parking lot of a K-Mart). The nuclear waste gave me the power to lactate Yoo-Hoo and shoot muffins out of my wow-hole. Sadly, puberty struck and I can no longer lactate. I still, however, can manage crapping scones.

At the age of 6, I rode my first bike made out of toothbrushes, yarn, beer cans, and grilling instruments. They say you never forget to ride a bike. I wish I could.

At the age of 7, I saw Gary Busey and crapped my pants.

At the age of 8, I was accused of eating the gingerbread man and sentenced to two years in prison.

At the age of 10, I flew my first B-17 bomber in the 135th air division during the American war against the Macarena.

At the age of 12, I had my first pet which was a six-foot tall hobo who wore loincloth and yammered on about killing geese. I called him Rosco.

At the age of 13, I rode my first unicorn down the rainbow highway of imagi-land. The rest is a bit hazy.

At the age of 14, I took over Candy Land in a bloody assault on Gumdrop Hill. I killed 121 that day and ate half of them. The rest are in my freezer.

At the age of 15, I was involved in the great conspiracy to chuck a water balloon at N'Sync in the Mall of America, thus cancelling their concert. I was also loosley asscoiated with the egg dropping on Hilary Duff.

At the age of 16, I had my first taste of alcohol. And I don't mean a beer. I mean I actually drank rubbing alcohol.

At the age of 17, I held my entire school hostage with a toothpick and a rolled copy of Newsweek. People were a lot more stupid back then.

At the age of 18, I held my graduation hostage with tweezers and a bowling ball. I had to be a little more creative that year.

At the age of 19, MacGuyver slapped me for practicing MacGuyverism without a degree.

At the age of 20, I wrote this crap.