My Life in Africa

I was born in Los Angeles to two movie star parents, who were constantly busy. It turned out that they didn’t really have much time to raise me, so at about 5 years old, they had grown tired of me, and decided to drop me off in Africa with a crate of supplies. I believe it was somewhere in the jungles of the Congo, but I can’t be sure. The supplies included a shiny new bicycle, some sunglasses, “grillz”, a crossbow, and a years worth of raw meat – unfortunately, there was no way to store it, so I had to eat as much of it as I could before it went bad. I was out in a month, and ended up having to make use of the crossbow. At 5, I wasn’t quite able to master it, but I was helped by a hammerhead shark with arms and legs, who helped me with precision aiming.

My parents came by in a helicopter when I was about 16 years old; I have no way to be sure, as I lost track of the time. They were a bit distracted then, and didn’t remember my name, but they had written in their schedule to fly over Africa in that year – it was August 11, 1985. When they finally picked me up, I naturally didn’t know how to speak, and I didn’t even know that people actually spoke until we landed some 5 hours later, as we rode in complete silence. Nevertheless, I was ultimately able to learn the English language, and while I never fit into society in the way I would have had I had a normal upbringing, I wasn’t a complete outcast.