Oh, well, see. It's a really long, epic tale.
It all started one night when I went to a concert. There I was abducted by an angry hobo that thought I was his former wife, and it all got even worse after that after he decided to get in the car and run from the police by scaling the country. We got the idea to start a band: I played the cardboard guitar, and he played the sound of crunching plastic cups.We became an instant hit in the sewers where rats would scurry to watch us. But one day I got the grand idea to escape, and it worked because he was too drunk to notice.
I slowly and steadily earned working as a bartender up ground, and I hoped to one day get enough money to buy a plane ticket home. I currently reside in an internet cafe, hiding from the hobo who scales bars looking for me.
TL;DR: Shit just got worse, bro.
/oh me and my crackho ways
SO WHAT'S UP, NAT-ATTACK?