The Life And Times Of Count Fnoonf Du Fnoonf Fnoonfburgh The Fnoonfth, Vol. 1

I was born on an unspecified day in the last quarter of the last century, in the quaint capital of a quaint country.

Just like most people not blessed with eidetic memory (and not presently two years or younger*), I have fairly few memories of my earliest years. I think my first memory is of the time I unwittingly simulated a repetitive sex act between a male (the lamp plug) and a female (the wall socket), and I think the jolt I received as a reward is probably the reason why this is my first memory. To this day, I have a vague, nagging fear of being electrocuted every time I have sex.

Another early memory revolves around fire. I was playing around on the living room floor near my venerable grandmother, who liked nothing better than to sit in her wicker chair, read philosophy and smoke Winston after Winston after Winston, like she had something against them and wanted them exterminated as fast as possible (they won out in the end, but she'd had a good run and accepted her fate with dignity).

So I'm playing near her and I smell something weird that I've never smelled before, so I go in the kitchen and tell mom about it, and then she takes me back out to the living room and notices that one of grandma's cigarettes has started a small blaze on the lamp shade. I remember my mother's alarm, and I remember the smell; dark, heady and chemical, so frighteningly rich with un-nature. I also distinctly recall being aware of my mother repressing some of her alarm in order not to frighten me. Since then I've smelled plenty of burning things, but nothing has ever quite come close to that particular acrid, synthetic stench.

There is also one very powerful memory that I'm inclined to chalk up to youthful confusion between dream life and waking life, because I am fairly certain it couldn't have happened. I was standing in our living room looking out over the neighborhood (we lived on the third floor and the view was rather decent), and I was watching this, I dunno, maybe 200-foot panda blustering around, trying to make a seat for itself on one of the buildings about a block or so away. I think this is a dream because, dude, we totally don't even have giant pandas where I'm from.

It was apparent from very early on that I was a pretty weird kid. Irrational fears began to manifest themselves very quickly; I lived in mortal terror of the vacuum cleaner (which became utter panic whenever the thing was turned on) and it soon became apparent to me that the lamp posts outside my window were, in fact, planning on reaching inside and snatching me while I was asleep, presumably to eat me or sell me for halogen or whatever it is that disturbed lamp posts do with small children. For this reason I flatly refused to sleep, play, or in any way subsist inside my room; the living room became my turf instead. I imagine it must have been fun for my parents, explaining to visitors why the main room of the house had been annexed by a neurotic two-and-a-half year old tyrant.

"It's the lamp post cabal thing. Your... your child has that too, right?"


Next up: Thunderous oratory, banana tragedies, early DJ chops and my first video game. Ta for now.


* Those who are two years or younger should stop reading right now, because there's some totally racy stuff coming up. Thanks.