Richard
Richard Laurence Southern was born on the 2nd day of March in the 84th year of the 20th century. Older brother to Michael and Maura, Richard is the eldest sibling in a family of English-Irish background. A cave-dweller by nature, Richard is best known for his unique fascination of and unsurpassed love for all varieties of organic slate. A self-described 'rock-jock', Richard is certainly in his element when surrounded by beautiful boulders, perfect pebbles, and gloriously grainy gravel. When he is not exercising his right as a lover of stones, he is merely exercising: be it out on the track, in the pool, or on the court. Indeed, Richard's inate love for physical fitness is matched only by his strange and inexplicable fear of it. It would therefore not be unusual for one to live their whole life without ever seeing Richard exert himself in any strenuous way. Although one could perhaps be forgiven for interpreting this as laziness, one would quickly be proven wrong upon examination of some of Richard's other talents.
First and foremost among these is his unparalleled skill of self-hydration. That is, Richard knows how to sweat. In a 5th grade superhero contest he showed up as "The Human Gland", and his ability to moisten people's clothes whilst making the ground beneath him slightly damp was truly amazing (if slightly overlooked due to the untimely arrival of "H2 the O Man" and "Hose Boy"). Despite this and other setbacks, Richard continued his sweatucation well into his teens, and as such lost most if not all contact with the outside world.
Sadly, this 'high' point in Richard's life could and did not last. By his eighteenth birthday, his profuse and uncontrollabe sweating had caused his skin to crust over, and he soon began to resemble the rocks that he loved so much. Hourly lamb's-milk baths were his only comfort, and with no one left to moisturize his horribly cracked and crumbling skin, he resigned himself to a shrivelled and lonely life.
Up until a few weeks ago, the story of Richard's life would have ended with the previous line. One day was the same as the next, and even his brief run-in with federal politics (he threw-up on the tv set while watching a national debate) would not have been worthy of note. I am happy to report, however, that this all changed. And it did so with two words: Casino Gambling. On the eve of his 21st birthday, Richard somehow managed to endure a bus ride that took him to a nearby resort. Rumour has it that he prepared for the outing by soaking in a tub full of peanut oil for 18 months, using the oil for both moisturization and sustinence. The result was skin that was just barely flexible enough for a day's worth of movement, and Richard, who had been obsessed with casinos since his blackjack-table birth, knew what he was going to do with his temporary mobility.
The rest, needless to say, is history. In gambling, Richard found the friend he never had, and despite losing hundreds of thousands of dollars within minutes of first entering the casino, he was happy. Some say it was the fact that the neverending complimentary drinks kept him hydrated for the first time in years, others say that his debt-related depression took his mind off of his horrible skin problem, and yet others have proposed a theory that Richard in fact never made it to the casino, believing that he instead became fixated by a small rock garden near it's entrance. I asked one of his friends, a man who somehow endured the unbelievably deformed shell of skin that Richard lived in, a man who some call Patrick Robinson, what he thought of Richard's suprising change of attitude. He had this to say:
There is a gentleman I’ve known for years
Who has become since then a friend of mine
And is someone I hold to me quite dear
A man who’s known to utter, “TRY THE WINE!”
The maker of the special paper hat,
A triumvir, a man of status great
He joins with me in “bearded antics” that
Are much to the chagrin of our dear mate.
An ear he always ready is to loan
A listener, he’s suited to that role.
And quick he is with jokes that cause a groan
Someone whom I would call a gentle soul
A man who’s noble, kind, of spirit free
To all is Richard Southern known to be
As this didn't even come close to approximating an answer to my question, I concluded that the problem was unsolvable.
Whatever the reason, the happiness of Richard cannot be doubted. Although his health status and current whereabouts are completely unknown, one somehow still gets the feeling that whenever a child laughs, or whenever a a rock melts into liquid hot molten magma, Richard is out there somwhere....watching....smiling....and letting it ride on a high stakes game of pai gow.
Happy Birthday!
First and foremost among these is his unparalleled skill of self-hydration. That is, Richard knows how to sweat. In a 5th grade superhero contest he showed up as "The Human Gland", and his ability to moisten people's clothes whilst making the ground beneath him slightly damp was truly amazing (if slightly overlooked due to the untimely arrival of "H2 the O Man" and "Hose Boy"). Despite this and other setbacks, Richard continued his sweatucation well into his teens, and as such lost most if not all contact with the outside world.
Sadly, this 'high' point in Richard's life could and did not last. By his eighteenth birthday, his profuse and uncontrollabe sweating had caused his skin to crust over, and he soon began to resemble the rocks that he loved so much. Hourly lamb's-milk baths were his only comfort, and with no one left to moisturize his horribly cracked and crumbling skin, he resigned himself to a shrivelled and lonely life.
Up until a few weeks ago, the story of Richard's life would have ended with the previous line. One day was the same as the next, and even his brief run-in with federal politics (he threw-up on the tv set while watching a national debate) would not have been worthy of note. I am happy to report, however, that this all changed. And it did so with two words: Casino Gambling. On the eve of his 21st birthday, Richard somehow managed to endure a bus ride that took him to a nearby resort. Rumour has it that he prepared for the outing by soaking in a tub full of peanut oil for 18 months, using the oil for both moisturization and sustinence. The result was skin that was just barely flexible enough for a day's worth of movement, and Richard, who had been obsessed with casinos since his blackjack-table birth, knew what he was going to do with his temporary mobility.
The rest, needless to say, is history. In gambling, Richard found the friend he never had, and despite losing hundreds of thousands of dollars within minutes of first entering the casino, he was happy. Some say it was the fact that the neverending complimentary drinks kept him hydrated for the first time in years, others say that his debt-related depression took his mind off of his horrible skin problem, and yet others have proposed a theory that Richard in fact never made it to the casino, believing that he instead became fixated by a small rock garden near it's entrance. I asked one of his friends, a man who somehow endured the unbelievably deformed shell of skin that Richard lived in, a man who some call Patrick Robinson, what he thought of Richard's suprising change of attitude. He had this to say:
There is a gentleman I’ve known for years
Who has become since then a friend of mine
And is someone I hold to me quite dear
A man who’s known to utter, “TRY THE WINE!”
The maker of the special paper hat,
A triumvir, a man of status great
He joins with me in “bearded antics” that
Are much to the chagrin of our dear mate.
An ear he always ready is to loan
A listener, he’s suited to that role.
And quick he is with jokes that cause a groan
Someone whom I would call a gentle soul
A man who’s noble, kind, of spirit free
To all is Richard Southern known to be
As this didn't even come close to approximating an answer to my question, I concluded that the problem was unsolvable.
Whatever the reason, the happiness of Richard cannot be doubted. Although his health status and current whereabouts are completely unknown, one somehow still gets the feeling that whenever a child laughs, or whenever a a rock melts into liquid hot molten magma, Richard is out there somwhere....watching....smiling....and letting it ride on a high stakes game of pai gow.
Happy Birthday!