Once upon a time I was sweet and innocent. Then, shit happened.
First I was bitten by a rabid chipmunk while hiking in the Adirondacks. I couldn’t receive medical attention before the madness swept over me and I started foaming at the mouth.
Somehow, my Boy Scout troop leader fed me an ancient root that only grows in the deepest jungles of darkest Africa he happened to have brought along on the hike with him just in case such one of us was bitten by a rabid chipmunk, which allowed me survive the horrendous fever in the bush.
It wasn’t long after that I lost my taste for the normal food my mother had put in my backpack. The three guys I’d gone hiking with began to look pretty appetizing and before we returned to civilization, I became a cannibal and pulled a Timothy on them.
When I returned to school weighing fifty pounds more than I had when I went hiking and was unable to say what had happened to my fellow campers, nobody wanted to include me in any reindeer games after that.
I was always a wild and crazy guy, but now I’m bouncing off the walls.
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