Many of you here know me, but many of you have only heard the rumors. First of all let me assure you, the tales you hear about me can’t be farther from the truth. For example “Jaycinth drinks blood.” Untrue. Untrue. Lies. Lies. There is a not a vampire on this Earth who can be made to testify to that statement.
But…let me tell you a bit about myself. I was born on an island in southern Bulgaria. We moved to Kyrgystan soon after, and that was where my parents were eaten by rabid yaks. I was then sent to America where I spent the next two decades of my life working on my grand-parents badger-milk dairy in Death Valley.
Badgers are soft, sweet-tempered, loving creatures, except when annoyed. Badgers are easily annoyed by attempts to milk them. Thus my life, while brutal and dusty, was always interesting.
It was the summer of ’47, or maybe ’63, as I recall, when my grandfather burst through the door. His face was whiter than a sheep cornered in a Vermont barn. In his hand he held a piece of paper. Badger milk had been replaced by steroids. MLB, MLF and MLH had all cancelled their contracts. My grandparents were ruined.
A year later I had freed the badgers, and consigned my grandparents to a home for the criminally insane. The proceeds from the sale of the farm was just enough to keep the ‘gramps’ in restraints and sedated the rest of their lives. The people who bought it, the nicest group of radiation scarred inbred mutants one could ever hope to meet, were very happy to move in immediately. They didn’t even insist that I tear down the badger breeding pens.
I threw all my stuff into the back of my Gremlin, drove away, and never looked back.
I worked my way through college suborning nuns for drug money and running automatic weapons for the local Amish Capo.
Was it my fault his son was a jerk? Was it my fault he wound up circumcised and with breast implants?
I thought it best to disappear for awhile. The nuns helped me get to Canada. I think they were happy to see me go.
There are lumberjacks in Canada. A strange breed of rugged men who wear stretchy pants, stretchy shirts, and sing stretchy songs. They fed me tea. Lots of it. And when I was ready to leave, they gave me their tricycle, hugged me, and sent me on my way.
Armed with a staple puller and lots of ideas, I returned to the good old U.S. of A., where I settled down to a career of pushing books over the phone. It was boring, and the pile of books on the floor on the other side of the phone kept growing. It did pay well, but the coffee stank like badger pee. Believe me, I KNOW badger pee.
I was married for awhile. Quick lime works wonders. Use gloves.
Now a days I am just your average working mom. True, my purview is Science Fiction/Horror/Fantasy (Well, some of you don’t know about my fantasies…) BUT I am not that unfamiliar with humor. The other day I sent my kid to school with a baggie of frozen creamed Brussels sprouts. When she questioned my sanity, I explained that not only were they nutritious, but they would also thaw slowly in her back pocket and be the perfect consistency by lunch. You should have seen her face. I laughed for an hour.
Some of you may be questioning Mac’s sanity. Some of you may have decided that Mac is inflicting me on you for some imagined, past transgression.
Nothing could be farther from the truth. The explanation could be very simple. During the recent ‘sweeps week’ it was noticed that the Royalty Thread had increased views by a few percentage points. I’m simply here to do the same thing for this thread.
Or, maybe Mac just doesn’t like you.
Too late to find out now, isn’t it?
Ok, then. I’ve never been a co-mod before, so we are just going to have to work together on this. Between us all I think we can have a mighty happy forum here.
No one will be injured for a ‘failure to be funny’. I’ve made certain promises that I will not pull people’s tongues out…at least at first.
So, now that you folks know all about me, I will open myself up to questions.
Make me laugh.
I insist on it.