Eric

It all started on a cold June day in the year nineteen hundred and ninety-three. I was born to a Zimbabwean trapeze artist and a White Nationalist from Louisville, Kentucky. I don't remember much about my parents, as they died in a suicide bombing when I was eleven months old. I would learn later on that they killed themselves in an anti-Star Trek protest. They were avid Star Wars fans, and the force was strong with them.

So it was foster home to foster home from then on. I never cared for many of my foster parents, and I got in a lot of trouble as a young one. I would often sneak out in the middle of the night, often to attend moustache conventions. I'm not quite sure why these conventions were held in the middle of the night, as they were also outdoors and it was too hard to tell if anyone even had a moustache. This seemed to be perfect for me, as I was only nine years old and therefore did not harness the ability to grow a moustache. However, I was mistaken. At one of these conventions, a man, who happened to have a particularly bushy mustache, decided to bring a lantern to this particular convention. I panicked. Everybody stared at my for a solid two and a half seconds, before they started to attack me with their canes. I ran as fast as I could, which wasn't very fast at all to be honest, but none of these men could run at all, which is why they had canes in the first place. I managed to catch a [slowly] moving train, and I never looked back.

TO BE CONTINUED...

probably not