I’m often asked, “how does an average working Joe like you become a chief of chiefs in an imaginary world of greedy little singing monsters?”
The truth is, it could happen to anyone.
You wake up one day to find you’re out of vodka and ganja cookies, your ex stole your car, and your mom figured out how to block your porn sites. Who can you turn to?
When you think you’ve found love on the internet, and then she pulls a fatal attraction, starts stalking you and everyone you’ve ever known, forcing you to assume the identity of a mere mortal to avoid the wrath of your little psycho kitty and spare the life of your last remaining pet rabbit, where can you find solace?
When your wife leaves you, your three kids stop talking to you and your dog runs away to live with your dental hygienist who you never should have messed around with in the first place, or at least not for more than a week or two, but she was just so hot in that little white coat and she always smelled of bacon, what can fill that aching, dark void in your soul?
Goddam singing monsters.
I didn’t grow up dreaming of being a monster-wrangler. I never thought this would be my calling. I had much bigger dreams, to be honest. But after flunking out of rodeo clown college, and then losing my job as assistant manager at the downtown Quicky Mart, I was in a dark place. I needed to feel like I could make it at something.
That’s really where the yellow brick road began for me.
More in my next reveal, “Still Sean, The Sequel.”
Bye for now, monster lovers.