Your loveliest of sway-backs; of mine I was once ashamed, and my uni-brow and crooked teeth, and red hair my mother never let me wash all winter, afraid I'd catch a draft. She wouldn't let me bathe, either, which made gym class a horror. I thought I had it bad until I met that handsome Scottish man whose parents tried to make him spontaneously combust by feeding him haggis laced with gunpowder and making him sleep in the stove. Instead of an ear, he had a shiny, snail-shaped ridge. I guess we all have our tragic flaw. Mine is like that of the naked man who holds up a sign that says "I'm naked" and runs screaming through the park. My handlers say I'm difficult, but don't you believe it. My soul still radiates a luminous intensity despite this stupid university job.