A Load Of Rubbish I Put Together, chapter 1
Dwayne was born on January 25th 1990 at 5.30pm. His parents, Joenen and Cilla, were never proud of him and most say he grew up on hate alone. After being kicked out one night, Dwayne searched for someone who understood. He had had many friends before, but most were struck blind with his terrifying looks. One boy told us that he felt his eyeballs corrupt one day whilst gazing into Dwayne's eyes. Dwayne, sad and alone, wandered mournfully across half of Europe.
I found him in a bin whilst looking for treasure. "Nothing good in this bin." I declared, shutting the lid.
"Eh will you be ma mate?" Dwayne asked.
"Can you Irish dance?" I replied
"No, but I have been given the same IQ as Einstein and can speak 7 different languages," he said.
"No deal." I proclaimed, shutting the bin once again.
"Ok ok, I'll try to Irish dance" Dwayne stuttered, getting up and jigging happily along the road. It was a jig of pure beauty and such freedom. I gave in and became his best friend forever.
For several years, around the ages of eleven through fourteen, Dwayne had a pet beaver called Craig. It was a strange story how Craig came around. At a zoo a woman was looking after the beavers. Since Dwayne is invisible, he told me "I like beavers." I felt that Dwayne needed to be spoken for, so I decided to share his love for beavers with the keeper.
"Dwayne says you have a nice beaver." I told her. She ran off screaming what a perverted maniac I was, so Dwayne and I took the beaver home.
Dwayne dragged Craig around everywhere with him on a little pink lead. It took a year for Dwayne to realize that Craig was dead. He is still emotionally disturbed and many comment that every time the wind blows, the words That's a nice beaver can be heard.
Dwayne unfortunately, is now suffering from a severe case of the twitches. In attempts to take him to the hospital I have been put in a straight jacket and am now living in a nice Asylum in the middle of no where. Updates will be made on Dwayne's health shortly.
I found him in a bin whilst looking for treasure. "Nothing good in this bin." I declared, shutting the lid.
"Eh will you be ma mate?" Dwayne asked.
"Can you Irish dance?" I replied
"No, but I have been given the same IQ as Einstein and can speak 7 different languages," he said.
"No deal." I proclaimed, shutting the bin once again.
"Ok ok, I'll try to Irish dance" Dwayne stuttered, getting up and jigging happily along the road. It was a jig of pure beauty and such freedom. I gave in and became his best friend forever.
For several years, around the ages of eleven through fourteen, Dwayne had a pet beaver called Craig. It was a strange story how Craig came around. At a zoo a woman was looking after the beavers. Since Dwayne is invisible, he told me "I like beavers." I felt that Dwayne needed to be spoken for, so I decided to share his love for beavers with the keeper.
"Dwayne says you have a nice beaver." I told her. She ran off screaming what a perverted maniac I was, so Dwayne and I took the beaver home.
Dwayne dragged Craig around everywhere with him on a little pink lead. It took a year for Dwayne to realize that Craig was dead. He is still emotionally disturbed and many comment that every time the wind blows, the words That's a nice beaver can be heard.
Dwayne unfortunately, is now suffering from a severe case of the twitches. In attempts to take him to the hospital I have been put in a straight jacket and am now living in a nice Asylum in the middle of no where. Updates will be made on Dwayne's health shortly.
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