I was born many years ago in a small log cabin on a distant planet and rocketed to Earth in an experimental interdimensional transport when my home world was completely destroyed in a war between opposing multiversal empires, so that they could have a place to park their spaceships.

At least, that’s what my mother used to tell my wife, at the same time she was commiserating with her about my oldest son having colic as an infant, which she said he had inherited from me. The words “I’m sorry you’re involved, Maryellen, but he deserves a child like that,” usually accompanied the tale of my birth, along with large quantities of over-the-counter pain relievers, and the telephone numbers of some good divorce lawyers.

Valiantly over coming the obstacles of being the oldest of nine children (I kept telling my parents they should have stopped after me, but they just wouldn’t listen), I eventually acquired a degree as a Mechanical Engineer, and have been working for the Department of Defense for far too many years now. I’d gladly tell you what I do there, but I’m not really sure what it is I do, myself. The one time I did inquire about the nature of my work, I was informed, “If we tell you, then we’ll have to kill you.” Not wanting to subject my supervisors to the unbelievable amount of bureaucratic paperwork that something like that would entail, I told them I was willing to wait 'til the time they decide they wanted to tell me, and I’ve been waiting patiently ever since.

I’m married to the woman I first met and started dating during my freshman year of college, have two sons and an insane German Schnauzer named Shane, who gets incredibly frustrated with me because I don’t seem to realize that I’m below him in the pecking order at home.

Anything else of importance I’ll be sure to pass along, once I find out about it.