shadowsnail

The details of my upbringing by wolves are quite inconsequential. My father was a relentlessly self-improving wolf from Belgium with low-grade narcolepsy and a penchant for buggery. My mother was a 15-year-old French wolf named Chloé with webbed feet. My father would wolfanize; he would drink; he would make outrageous claims like he invented the howl. Sometimes, he would accuse chestnuts of being lazy. The sort of general malaise that only the genius possess and the lunatic lament. My childhood was typical: summers in Rangoon … luge lessons … In the spring, we’d make meat helmets … When I was insolent I was placed in a burlap bag and beaten with reeds — pretty standard, really. At the age of 12, I received my first scribe. At the age of 14, a veterinarian named Vilmer shaved my testicles. There really is nothing like a shorn scrotum — it’s breathtaking … I suggest you try it.