Wednesday, March 24, 2010

Me: An Autobiography: Part 1

I happened to be at the local Borders the other day and noticed there was a new autobiography out about some guy I’ve never heard of. Apparently, he cured something or some such. This got me thinking, a torturous, hour-long process that I’m not keen to reproduce soon. ‘If this guy I’ve never heard of can write an autobiography,’ I said to myself. ‘Surely – oooooh! A dinosaur pop-up book!’

Thirty minutes later, after I’d thoroughly read the book and made the appropriate noises, I relocated my train of thought. ‘Surely, I too could write an autobiography!’

And so I did. Well, at least the first part. And by first part I mean ‘the part before I wore clothes.’

Me: Part 1: The early years.

My childhood was a blissful one. There was lots of running, leaping, jumping, licking, and pulling down large game with the rest of the pack. Even at that age I knew I was different. For instance, my fur wasn’t as thick as my siblings and I could operate a stick-shift and firearms.

My dad, the pack leader, was called GRRRWWWRORRG,’ which translates as ‘he who really, really likes to lick himself.’ My mom was named GRRRWWWRORRGA,’ or in the human tongue, ‘she who puts up with a lot.’ I had 8 brothers and 5 sisters, who I won’t name as that joke has already hit bottom.

Anyway, one morning we all piled into the family pickup and went hunting. Having opposable thumbs, I was driving, while Dad was in the passenger seat, hanging his head out the window. The rest of the family was in back, patiently waiting for their chance to leap out and maul some unsuspecting creature.

After driving around for an hour and finding no game, I stopped so the rest of the family could go walkies. I then happened upon a strange sight. It was a group of bipeds, four in number. I had not seen their kind before, so I stared in awe, as they pointed and jabbered in some strange tongue. I later learned that they were surprised at my appearance and marveled at my noble, yet savage countenance. And the fact that I was wearing pants on my head, but I digress.

Using a trail of stale Peeps, they coaxed me into their vehicle and introduced me to a strange, wondrous new life. In short, they sold me to a circus.

At some point: Part 2!


Buzzcook said...

So I was not the only one raised by poodles?
I still remember the warm hearts and cold noses of my family. Yow yip.

Jason Janicki said...

They might have been wolves or maybe chihuahuas. I'm not sure :)