Many of Swordfish’s awake hours were spent in the form of hatred; Hatred for children! Fatherless children to be exact. No one, including himself, knew where this loathsome, tearful rage stemmed.
This stem of hatred though, was deeply rooted in agonizing self-mutilation with a mixture of mustache plucking and the cutting of himself with an array of salty vending machine treats. His tender yet resilient body began to adapt to the mild saltiness of Doritos and peanuts. Shortly thereafter, his addiction had begun to morph into a beast of salty, shameless desire.
Out of money and unable to feed his cravings, Swordfish did the unthinkable. He began using his mouth for evil because it was the only way he was capable of fostering his salty (now sweaty) addiction.
Three weeks later, Swordfish was nearly captured by animal control after a nosy neighbor had complained of loud techno music, strobe lights and boisterous laughter in the alley. High on salty endorphins, chewing on razor blades and sucking down a can of Morton’s, scatter brained Swordfish escaped, but with deadly amounts of iodine in his system.
On the throngs of death and a body meager with hunger, Swordfish decided to head butt his way through his wall of depression. He left behind salt filled lacerations and endorphin highs, for a life of unsurpassed joy, rainbows and butterflies, and has since found a new life filled with the kind of hope only found in dreams….
However, he was never able to expel his utter hatred for little children. He was arrested for tackle fighting eight of them at a local rugby match, as well as verbally molesting them while they were down. After the incident, there were many reports quoting Swordfish as screaming “F*** you, I’m a Llama” at the helpless crying children.