Griff

One day, 18 years and some odd months ago, another child came to pass the world like a bottle-rocket and a box of soda-crackers on ritalin and balsamic vinegar. Some say that in this state, he bounced like a basketball. Others say he slipped like an eel, followed (like most of us) by a large and veiny pouch of vitamins, and hid under the bed on the linoleum. Whatever the case, he learned quickly but retained very little, which is why Griff is the way Griff is. Please shoot him. Good.