I am Maxwell and this is my tragic life story.
I had a mom.
I had a dad.
They took me to the zoo once. There was a talkative king parrot.
There was also a ghost
There was also an omnivorous baby. It was terrifying.
Dad got too close. It was his parental instinct. The baby ate him alive.
It ate mom too. It didn't eat dad's mustache.
Then this bad guy with a welding torch appeared and set the omnivorous baby free. If the toothless bloody mouth of that baby weren't so busy trying to chomp at me maybe it would've noticed him and eaten him instead.
I had no choice: I had to sentence the baby to death by stoning.
I was victorious, but this wasn't all the revenge I needed.
At sunset, and so quickly that he blurrd a little, the aforementioned bad guy put on a viking helmet, put his welding torch in a briefcase and flew the scene.
I had two choices: to remove his viking helmet, or to shoot him with my revolver.
I chose to shoot.
Later in life I developed vision problems and wore glasses. I also lived in a cave hidden by rocks and never put down my revolver. I drank a lot of Tired Potions and Confused Potions, too.
I don't know how or why but eventually a cop and an agent found me. I shot the box my fancy TV sat on.
They took me topside and confiscated my revolver and said it was time to live like normal. The agent wiggled his gun unnervingly.
But one day they drank Confused Potions and Tired Potions. How unprofessional.
I was very old but still had a lust for stonings and my revolver and felt if I could combine both it'd be an event to satisfy my life completely. So I decided to shoot an immobile half pipe full of rocks and exploding rocks to commit an overly-elaborate suicide.
Look at me go