The details of my life are quite inconsequential. My father was a relentlessly self-improving boulangerie owner from Belgium with low grade narcolepsy and a penchant for buggery. My mother was a 15-year old French prostitute named Chloe with webbed feet. My father would womanise, he would drink. He would make outrageous claims, like he invented the question mark. He would sometimes accuse chestnuts of being lazy. The 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. When I was insolent I was placed in a burlap bag and beaten with reeds- pretty standard stuff really. At the age of twelve i was given my first scribe. at the age of fourteen, a Zoroastrian named Vilma ritualistically shaved my testicles. There really is nothing like a shawn scrotum.
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