Let me tell you a story -- one of my favorite memories (no pun intended). I remember it like it was yesterday -- the story of my birth. It was a hot, mid-summer's day when I decided I wanted out of my mother. I went through the routine that would inform my mom of my decision (I'll spare you the details), and was preparing to make my escape. I began to climb out of there, eager for the chance to eat some bacon for the first time! I was so happy to be a young, independent baby, and my parents were elated that I liked bacon as much as they did. To celebrate, we chartered a small boat to take us on a voyage around the western coast of Africa. It would be our first family vacation!
Over the course of the next few minutes, we packed our bags, said goodbye to our friends, and boarded the boat. We all were so exited to begin our voyage -- both to Africa, and as a new family -- but little did we know, the same voyage that was welcoming a new addition to our family would ironically end up killing 2/3 of us.
The boat was sailing close to the coast when it spontaneously combusted! Our family was forced to jump ship and swim for shore. Being the resourceful kind of baby I was -- and still am, thank you -- I fashioned a makeshift hut for us out of some of the wreckage of the boat. We thought, "Could this vacation get any worse?" Then a leopard came and killed my parents.
Here I am, no way to get back home, no one to go back home to, and not even old enough to be able to comprehend the situation I have been thrown into -- total mood killer. And now there is a rogue leopardess trying to catch me and eat me -- what a day ruin-er. I was in the middle of saying my last goodbyes, "Well, it's been a good couple of hours..." when a mama gorilla swooped in to save me! I didn't know who this strange lady was, and I didn't appreciate the smell of her fur, but she was better than that assassin leopard! I thanked her for the rescue (though I totally could have kicked the leopard's butt) and asked her to point me in the direction of 'GTFO of here ville.' She introduced herself to me as Kayla and proceeded to tell me that I would live with her and her family until and American woman named Jane came to the jungle and took me back to England with her. I accepted this because later in the story Jane would fall for me. Even though our relationship would, without a shadow of a doubt, end in a divorce due to our vastly different upbringings -- monkeys brought me up, and English people raised her -- I accepted it because it seemed all right to me.
I spent the next 25 years or so running around the jungle and playing pranks on the animals of the forest. The jungle creatures gave me the name Tarzan, which means "Quick as a cat, fast as a rock." I bore the name with pride. 25 years after the "incident," (as it came to be known) Jane finally showed up! She was a moron though; let me tell ya. She had no skills. She didn't know how to swing on vines, climb trees, or give a giraffe a wet willy. I showed her how to do all those things and we lived happily ever after.
The End
(Hopefully the title makes a little more sense now)
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