Golly, it's swell that you clicked on my big, yellow, googly puppet eyes. So I guess you want to know all about me, huh? Well, I'll see what I can do.

I was born in a magical kingdom, in a galaxy far, far away from here. As a mere baby, I was placed into a rocket and shot off into the depths of space. It wasn't because my planet was exploding or anything. They just got tired of having me hanging around.

I landed in a massive explosion in a field in North Dakota. Many innocent cows and chickens were killed in the impact. The local village had a big barbeque, with streamers and party favors and everything. There was much merriment and devourment of perfectly singed livestock. Or so I'm told. I wasn't invited.

Raised by local poopsmiths, I made my way into the world of retail at the ripe age of 7. Twenty years later, I crawled from the disgusting, dehumanizing world of customer service into the disgusting, dehumanizing world of advertising. At least my clothes don't smell like fry grease anymore, but I do have to wear a tie. I think I prefer the fry grease.

Someday, when the time is right, I will unleash the full fury of my alien powers upon an unsuspecting populace. Until then, I will make inane comments about other people's complaint letters to pass the time. I might also start a bottlecap collection. I haven't really worked up the initiative yet.

THE END?