|Thank goodness for Mrs. ‘Puter’s
genes. Otherwise, Spawn would
be slow and unattractive like
‘Puter. Though if there’s justice,
Spawn inherited ‘Puter’s balding gene.
Eleven years ago, around three a.m., ‘Puter’s youngest son Spawn burst forth from his shell entered the world. He was on the smallish side of normal, and not breathing too well, but he did just fine, and Mrs. ‘Puter and I took him home timely.
Eighteen months later, Spawn was “failing to thrive,” couldn’t keep food down and sounded like a whooping crane when he slept. Mrs. ‘Puter finally convinced the doctors to take a good, long look at Spawn. The doctors determined that Spawn had abnormally large tonsils and adenoids and unusually small breathing passages.
Out the tonsils and adenoids came, thanks to an excellent local pediatric otolaryngologist surgeon, and immediately, Spawn commenced his newly found favorite activity: eating.
The good surgeon told us at a follow up visit that Spawn had the worst case of enlarged tonsils and adenoids he’d ever seen in a child that young and that in his then 30 years of surgical experience, Spawn was the second youngest child he’d ever had to operate on. And belated thanks to the good surgeon for not sharing that information with Mrs. ‘Puter and ‘Puter prior to Spawn’s surgery.
Spawn has thrived from that day forward, to this point surpassing my already high expectations for him. Spawn is smart, athletically talented and musically talented. In fact, Mrs. ‘Puter has already witnessed throngs of girls screaming Spawn’s name as he emceed his grade school’s talent show. Spawn’s teenage years will certainly be … interesting, both for him and for ‘Puter.
Spawn shares his birthday with several of our personal friends, along with notables such as Milton Friedman and Harry Potter.
So, on this 31 July 2012, ‘Puter wishes his son Spawn a lifetime full of challenges to overcome, health and happiness.
‘Puter will love Spawn always, no matter what.
Always right, unless he isn’t, the infallible Ghettoputer F. X. Gormogons claims to be an in-law of the Volgi, although no one really believes this.
’Puter carefully follows economic and financial trends, legal affairs, and serves as the Gormogons’ financial and legal advisor. He successfully defended us against a lawsuit from a liquor distributor worth hundreds of thousands of dollars in unpaid deliveries of bootleg shandies.
The Geep has an IQ so high it is untestable and attempts to measure it have resulted in dangerously unstable results as well as injuries to researchers. Coincidentally, he publishes intelligence tests as a side gig.
His sarcasm is so highly developed it borders on the psychic, and he is often able to insult a person even before meeting them. ’Puter enjoys hunting small game with 000 slugs and punt guns, correcting homilies in real time at Mass, and undermining unions. ’Puter likes to wear a hockey mask and carry an axe into public campgrounds, where he bursts into people’s tents and screams. As you might expect, he has been shot several times but remains completely undeterred.
He assures us that his obsessive fawning over news stories involving women teachers sleeping with young students is not Freudian in any way, although he admits something similar once happened to him. Uniquely, ’Puter is unable to speak, read, or write Russian, but he is able to sing it fluently.
Geep joined the order in the mid-1980s. He arrived at the Castle door with dozens of steamer trunks and an inarticulate hissing creature of astonishingly low intelligence he calls “Sleestak.” Ghettoputer appears to make his wishes known to Sleestak, although no one is sure whether this is the result of complex sign language, expert body posture reading, or simply beating Sleestak with a rubber mallet.
‘Puter suggests the Czar suck it.