Born into this world just after the nuclear holocaust, I was destined to grow up hard & fast. My dad was a hitman for the swedish Mafia & my mom was a seamstress for the Russian Czar. We lived in a remote fishing village and I became quite adept at plucking sardines out of the water with my bare hands. At the age of 5, my parents realized I was blessed with enormous strength. I was often sent home from school for bench-pressing my frightened classmates. I walked 73 miles uphill in the dead of winter, wearing nothing but a tanktop & a pair of tattered nylon shorts just to get to school. By the age of 10, I had a full-grown beard & mustache, a sign of my premature manhood. Unlike the other children in my village, who passed time by playing tag & hide & seek, I had joined a Nordic motorcycle gang- Valhalla's Devils. Unfortunately, due to the strict laws regarding the licensing of minors, I could only ride in the sidecar. Around the age of 13, I decided to kiss maw & paw on their delicate foreheads & make a name for myself in the growing "Beatnik" movement down in France. I became a bohemian coffee house God, often leading impromptu bongo jams in town square, much to the delight of hepcats & daddy-o's everywhere. Many a latte was downed. I grew tired of the beatnik set rapidly (like in 2 weeks), & moved on to the decadence of Amsterdam. I quickly became a hash addict. I spent my days strung out on dope & my nights- robbing the blind. One day, while doped up on some quality hash, I killed my first man. A cop who had tried to oust me from a public park, fell victim to my immense strenth & hairtrigger temper. I eviscerated him with my Bowie knife and left him to die in the mid-day sun. I went on the lam.
I became a stowaway on a freight train bound for the United States. The trip took many days & nights, and I assumed my position amongst my fellow stowaways as their mentor; A position I earned by my amazing feats of strenth, such as bending railroad spikes with my teeth and stopping the train by sticking my foot out of the side door ala Fred Flinstone. My traveling partners were a strange bunch indeed! There was Chinko the leper, who taught me the time-honored art of nipple piercing. And who could forget the rotund minstrel named John Popper, whom I taught to play the harmonica in exchange for a few wedges of his 50-lb. swiss wheel. Upon arriving in the U.S., I bid farewell to my friends and blended right into the big apple. NYC was my new home. I was a fugitive in search of a new identity. I hit the streets looking for work, in order to get my life back in order. I obtained a job at "The Moistened Clit", a nudie bar down on 42nd & 8th. I was responsible for the proper placement & adhesion of the nipple tassels on the dancer's breasts. Life was good. I had free beer, a steady check, & big'uns in my face, all night long. But as the saying goes, all good things must come to an end, & The Moistened Clit was torched by it's competitor "The Skanky 'Ho", down on 42nd & 9th.
As the next few years progressed, I managed to stay on the straight and narrow, gaining employment at odd jobs such as doorstop, crossing guard, masseuse, and Telly Savalas' personal lollipop gofer, on the set of the hit TV series "Kojak". After making my fortune, I retired from the workforce at the ripe old age of 15. Missing my parents, I decided to venture back home, cash in hand, and show the folks what a success I had become! Much to my dismay, they rejected me in their native tongue, calling me a "capitalist American swine" & referring to me only as "ugly American". Rejected & defeated, I realized that the homeland was no place for me. With no Taco Bell and not a lap dance to be had in all the land, I headed back to the decadence of the states. Upon returning to NY, the unthinkable had occurred- my beloved red-light district had been transformed into "Candyland" by a totalitarian mayor! Oh the horror! GONE were the neon breasts, peep shows & porn emporiums, and in their places stood Mickey Mouse ears, upscale yuppie stores and TOFU BARS!
In a mighty fit of rage, I stomped my way through the streets of Manhattan, on my way to city hall, pummeling innocent bystanders and winos alike. I was determined to confront and bludgeon the balding Mayor who had stripped life of all it's enjoyment. When I arrived at City Hall, I was directed to the World Trade Center, where the Mayor was giving a press conference on how "family Oriented" the city had now become. By the time I rampaged my way over there, he had eluded me YET AGAIN, leaving only a stack of anti-porn literature in his wake. In a mighty leap of fury, I shot to the top of the WTC like a rocket! I stripped naked & waved my genitals at the mayor's motorcade, much to the distress of the tourists on the observation deck. At this point, I realized life was futile. With no family and more importantly- no porn- I decided to end it all...
In a final gesture of angst, I clenched my buttocks, raised the middle finger on both my hands & leaped head-first, naked & flailing as I plunged toward certain doom. But unexpectedly.....