About the Author

Autobiography – A Means To A Not So Rotund End

During the great depression, a child was born. His name was Jack Fig. Now little Jack had jet black hair and eyes to rival. Seeing this child born fresh from the womb for a 1920′s french prostitute made a body wonder. How long had he been growin’ that hair? Well the question was soon answered about 70 years later. When another boy was born.

The year was 1992 but that week was no good as the fetus was on vacation in Bermuda. So it was all postponed to the next week. Now it was 1993. On January 14th a child was born by the name of Cody. See this didn’t coincide with the prophesy so they had to rewrite it all and this turned out to happen on January 3rd. So Cody was born and just lookin’ at him, one could tell he was an old soul who had seen many aeons of life. Either that or he was blind. None could tell for sure.

Well as it happens, a drunk was playing the banjo as Cody and Posse left the hospital. As of that moment, little baby Cody decided he wanted to be a professional banjo tuner when he grew up. This was a dream of his for a long time and any individual with between 1 and 6 working eyes could see he was a natural. He tuned his first banjo from G# to D# at the age of five.

Unfortunately, fate did not smile on this soon to be kentucky general. As I forgot to mention earlier, this was the 70′s in ohio and as you all know, there was more shirt factories than a body could count. So as it were, Cody was tuning banjos in one such factory. The White Cotton Shirt factory, to be precise. It was situated right along the Lousianna River and the cool breeze wafted through the corn starch windows. Well the boiler plate melted, the flux capacitor started throwing law suits and the security personel started shivering something bad. Well this was all well and good for the rest of ‘em but Cody was right infront of the Wafflecart when the whole thing went up and blew.

This resulted in the loss of both his hands. And that was the end of his banjo tuning career. After a good 10 years of mourning the loss of his hands, the American Civil War came along nad due to his living in Kentucky, the good General Cody was called to war. He still only had neither of his hands but he found he could hold a musket if we balanced it on his chin and used his big toe to fire the trigger. This shooting style then became known as the One Eyes Billygoat’s Waltz.

At this point Cody met good ol’ Jack Fig. Now Jack was a lad of means. By which I mean he had a rope and 8 pence. Now pence wasn’t no good during the American Revolution, so he traded them for Paul Riviera’s horse. Her name was the Steed of Questionable Name. Some called her Better, other’s St. Steevy, some even called her Wilma. None knew her name so they called her the Steedof Quesitonable Name.

Well they road through the country side, passing out bread to the peasants until they reach King Louis IV’s palace. At that point due to a misunderstanding in directions and a poor placement of a chandalier, they burned that bitch down. Fearing the worst, they fled to fuedal japan. Now japan at the time was a rather zen place, only had 18 computers and a few clones of Charles Darwin. Now, you gotta understand, they boys was tryin’ to figure out why Jack’s hair had turned Navajo White so they went to ask an old wise man.

The wise man simple pointed them in the direction of the nearest Del Taco. On the way there, they ran into the most curious hunting party. Two british constables, an asian homosexual, and a Marine Sniper who simple went by the name King Ramesis Niblik III Kerplunk “>Kerplunk Kerplunk Kerplunk Whoops I Lost My Thribble. However some called him Hayduke after Edward Abbey’s riveting best seller “The Birds”. Now, the two boys teamed up with this hunting party and a month later they had reached the new world and were already infecting the natives with Funpox and the like.

Now in the process of all this carnal debauchery, Jack Fig came down with a bad case of Random Pavarati Syndrome, causing him to burst out at any moment into italian opera yodeling and screaching. Poor Ol’ Cody decided the best he could do is put him out of his misery, so he invented World War II and sent Jack to fight. Well Jack came back a war hero and all plans were dashed so they decided to get married. Now at this point, Einstein had yet to invent the cotton gin so their hopes came to a screeching halt when Cody met the fine Lady Hamilton Hildebrande. She had a figure that would rival any over-ripened cantalope and a voice that sounded like geese farts on a muggy day. Seeing this, Jack got jealous and burned her to the ground. Turns out she was actually a protestant church.

Well naturally as any man would, Cody fell into a slump. However, his heart did beat again some 20 years later when he had just become a born again Anglo-Saxon and met his future partner in crime, Betty Watson. Well at this point Jack had died from botched plastic surgery to his lower intestine so Cody has nothing left to live for. They two traveled the world, stealin’ and killin’ in all means of the words and some others not so meaningful. Well by the end of October of 1984, they were wanted criminals everywhere except Bangladesh. So to Bangledesh they went, making many crude remarks about airport bathrooms and whatnot.

Unfortunately they got stuck in a canyon because the train driver was trying to learn to whistle. As it were they were mugged and shot. In that order, mind you. They were burried together in Singapore under the corner stone of a small grain store house.

And that is the story of how St. Andrew freed the slaves.