I was born in a tiny town south of the North Poll.
There were only 3 huts within 70 miles of each other, but as luck would have it there was one Safeway and 17 Starbucks along the rout to each.
My mother knitted our clothes from the fine hairs of a polar bears ass and cooked fresh stew every night. In the stew was a substance that felt like meat but tasted like broiled artichokes with a twist of lemon. The vegetable in the stew came from the Safeway, but we always believed our grandfather stole them from the hut 35 miles away, just because he didnt like how that man's wife dressed.
At an early age I learned how to hunt, my grandparents gave me a hunting game for Christmas and I would settle in every evening and go kill me some fake animals. When it came time for my Uncle to teach me how to hunt for real, I ran away. I ran so far I couldnt find my way back. Luckily, Anook, the nice man from Starbucks #7 saw me along the Path of the Dead and gave me a ride back with his dog sled. (Path of the Dead was named because they found someone dead on that path)
I have always felt guilty about that ride considering Anook only had one dog hooked to the sled, and that one dog was a hound dog.
As Anook arrived with me back at the hut, my Grandfather hid. Anook is the one who we were getting our vegetables from. The rest of my family acted as if they were happy and relieved to see me, but as soon as Anook left my grandfather came out from behind the couch and my hunting teacher Uncle came up to me with tears in his eyes and said he was so sorry. He apparently thought I ran away because he broke wind as I was sitting behind him on our sled. He hugged me and begged me for forgiveness. I said of course I forgive you.
My Dad then appeared from behind my Grandpa with an axe. They told me if I had not forgiven my Uncle, my Dad would have chopped him up.
I thought to myself; what a horrible thing to do to me, if they would have just been honest and told me the truth we would have had fresh meat in our stew for at least a year, maybe longer. My Uncle was, or is a big man.
Being around all the snow for so long I figured it was time for me to see how hard it was to live in the desert. So, here I am in Arizona; right on the border of Phoenix and Paradise Valley. I always like to say I live in Paradise Valley. I mean come on, it sounds so much better.
