My Unauthorized Autobiography
The year was 1971.
Two misunderstood genetic researchers working without the sanctions of
the ethical approval board decided that it would be scientifically relevant and
funny to raise a child in a side-by-side comparison/contrast controlled
experiment with lab mice. In the
beginning the infant was unable to perform at the enhanced level that the mice
were capable of. In addition, the
aquarium where the child was kept between tests seemed to further stunt his
development and he hardly ever used his exercise wheel.
The scientists realized that the child required a more spacious
environment and created a series of interconnected plastic tubes that the infant
could maneuver through and stretch his weak under-developed hind legs. Within
months the baby that they now recognized as a boy, was able to run the maze with
agility equal to that of the mice but was unable to grasp the point of the
exercise and just ran in circles unable to navigate the complexities of the
maze. The researchers dismayed by
their failure but intrigued by the twitchy and nervous attributes the boy now
displayed, decided that sensory deprivation was the way to go. In addition the mice were more fun to watch.
The boy was introduced to the C14 SenseDep chamber in the fall of 1972
and was promptly forgotten.
17 years later the rusted lock on the C14
SenseDep chamber finally fell off and the boy emerged into the world for a
second time. The research lab was
torn down during the late 70's and a brand new shopping mall was developed and
built on the site. It was the spring of 1988 and the boy, struck blind by the
sudden exposure to the florescent lights stumbled wet and naked past the
security sensors at The Gap into the crowded Easter shopping weekend at the
mall. 3 mall guards wrestled the
boy to the floor and took away the giant soft pretzel he was eating. As there
were no clothes to be found anywhere in the mall the security guards dressed the
boy in an enormous pink bunny suit and forced him to welcome shoppers until
child protective services arrived. He
was promptly taken to the orphanage where he and the other discarded children
sang songs and awaited their adoption by wealthy bald men.
An hour and a half later he was adopted.
His new parents were wonderful and their home was spacious and clean.
"Mom" and "Dad", as they liked to be called, enrolled
him in school the following Monday. His
new life as a kindergartner would begin the next day.
His first day of kindergarten was rather
uneventful. But when his mom
dropped him off at school the next morning the blinding lights of news cameras
and angry shouts of protesters blocked the entrance to the school.
Apparently the little tots had gone home the day before and told their
parents about their dim-witted 17-year-old classmate.
" I don't want my daughter anywhere near that monster!"
screamed one irate parent as she threw one of her daughter's cupcakes at the
boy. The mob of villagers screamed
and waved their pitchforks back and forth while they burned a rather lifelike
effigy of the boy on the steps of the school.
The boy didn't understand the purpose of the crowd, and to his mother's
horror, he joined in their protest of himself.
Later that night, the boy played quietly while his parents sat in the
kitchen discussing how they could get an education for their new son.
His father had bought him a Slinky on the way home from work and told him
that it could walk down the stairs. The
boy loved the Slinky with all his heart and set it in motion from the top of the
stairs. He squealed and giggled
with delight, clapping his hands as it made it's way down. When it fell over the last stair and stopped he cried out in
terror. He ran over to the Slinky and poked it with his finger.
It didn't move. With tears in his eyes he gently lifted the Slinky, carried
it out to the backyard, and in a quiet and somber memorial buried it with all
the other Slinkys that he had "killed".
For the next few months the boy stayed home from
school watching cartoons and grieving over his Slinkys.
His parents couldn't find any school that would accept a 17-year-old
kindergarten student. It also
didn't help that the mob of angry villagers followed the family everywhere they
went. The family trip to Disney world was a disaster.
The mob paid the Disney characters that wander around the park to tease
and humiliate the boy every time they saw him.
To this day the sight of Goofy sends him into a crying tear-filled fit of
seizures and vomiting. After 3
months of endless harassment by the villagers the boy's mother had a nervous
breakdown. The father still loved his son but couldn't help but blame
him for ruining their lives. His
icy cold stares of hatred seared into the boy from across the dinner table each
night. The boy noticed that the
hatred then turned into anticipation around the same time that his food started
"tasting bitter" and had a faint smell of almonds.
Late one night he crawled out his bedroom window and jumped a freight
train out of town. He once heard
that a boy could make a good living on the pie eating contest circuit at state
fairs. This became his dream.
This would be his calling. He
would make a name for himself as a champion pie eater.
His parents would be so proud they would have to love him again.
At least for now, he had hope.
The pie eating circuit was a hard life.
The competitions were very demanding and the training was difficult.
By spring he was ranked 4th in the nation and was on the cover of every
magazine in America from "Pie Eaters Monthly" to "Pie
Illustrated". His manager
booked him on Geraldo Rivera, but the episode entitled "He Eats Pies"
never aired. The network sensors
decided that after they edited out all the profanity the show would only be 4
minutes long. Fame went to his
head. People would come up to him
on the street and beg him to eat their pies.
The supermodels and actresses that he dated hated the constant attention
and rumors that followed him everywhere he went. The minutes rolled into hours and the hours into days.
It had been a week since he ran away from home and suddenly, half way
through a pie at the Glenndale County Fair, he realized that his life was no
longer his own. He stood up from
the picnic table, wiped the blueberry of his chin, and to a crowd of 15 fans he
said goodbye. His final
address to the crowd lasted 3 hours and 17 minutes and the 12 fans that remained
until the end were shaken to the core by his oratory.
In the distance a single dove cried a mournful farewell as his bodyguards
escorted him back to his motel room. The
news of his retirement traveled fast and by morning six more people knew about
it. He quietly packed his bag and
left town by mid afternoon. In his
wake he left fame, celebrity, glamour and a trail of discarded sweet-tart
The boy spent the rest of the summer wandering
around the countryside doing odd jobs. He
passed out flyers for a church pancake breakfast in Pikeville, Kentucky.
He was a fry cook at the McDonalds in Mt. Lebanon, Pennsylvania.
He worked in a doughnut shop in Independence, Missouri.
He was a law professor at East Carolina University, in North Carolina.
He stuffed fortune cookies in Cedar Rapids, Iowa.
He was an ocular surgeon in Ogden, Texas.
In Key West, Florida he sold mittens and snowmobile parts.
He was a launch commander for the Space Shuttle Endeavor during the
ill-fated "send a class of first graders to the moon" mission. And he finally ended up in Las Vegas, Nevada working at the
Tropicana Hotel emptying ashtrays.