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I came to this planet in a small rocket ship designed by my father to save me from the utter destruction of our home world.
A loving, but childless, couple found my crashed ship and raised me as their own. Sadly, one night as we walked home from a movie, they were killed by an armed robber. Standing amidst the corpses of my adoptive parents, I pledged to follow an endless quest to rid the world of evildoers.
Later, as I sat alone in my house, a bat flew through the window, spraying the room with glass and bright, red, arterial blood. Scared the hell out of me, but cured me of my psychotic revenge fantasies.
To calm myself, I drove my hotrod to the local nuclear weapons testing grounds and sat there playing my harmonica. Out of nowhere, a skinny, bespectacled man in a lab coat grabbed me and threw me into a bomb shelter. Everything went white. I wonder whatever happened to that guy?
As I lay recovering in a hospital bed, I realized my true purpose was to entertain others by drawing inordinate amounts of attention to myself in socially acceptable ways at predesignated sites dedicated to that purpose. Suddenly, a butterfly flew through the window--which was open this time--and it was then that I decided I would become . . . The Butterfly Man!
Turns out that there's this old guy out west already using that name.
So, now I act and perform where and when I can, always keeping an eye on the open window . . . .
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Cheers,
~Stephon
[This message has been edited by Stephon (edited 11-15-2001).]
[This message has been edited by Stephon (edited 11-15-2001).]
A loving, but childless, couple found my crashed ship and raised me as their own. Sadly, one night as we walked home from a movie, they were killed by an armed robber. Standing amidst the corpses of my adoptive parents, I pledged to follow an endless quest to rid the world of evildoers.
Later, as I sat alone in my house, a bat flew through the window, spraying the room with glass and bright, red, arterial blood. Scared the hell out of me, but cured me of my psychotic revenge fantasies.
To calm myself, I drove my hotrod to the local nuclear weapons testing grounds and sat there playing my harmonica. Out of nowhere, a skinny, bespectacled man in a lab coat grabbed me and threw me into a bomb shelter. Everything went white. I wonder whatever happened to that guy?
As I lay recovering in a hospital bed, I realized my true purpose was to entertain others by drawing inordinate amounts of attention to myself in socially acceptable ways at predesignated sites dedicated to that purpose. Suddenly, a butterfly flew through the window--which was open this time--and it was then that I decided I would become . . . The Butterfly Man!
Turns out that there's this old guy out west already using that name.
So, now I act and perform where and when I can, always keeping an eye on the open window . . . .
------------------
Cheers,
~Stephon
[This message has been edited by Stephon (edited 11-15-2001).]
[This message has been edited by Stephon (edited 11-15-2001).]
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