The Tiny Boss – A Prelude to My Life Story

I was born several years too late. I was due on the same day that Paul Bunyan cut down a mountain-side of ponderosa pine before breakfast. I was supposed to be in that tale, but I was still on the wrong side of birth. The true stories you are about to read are repeated here with utter gravity and a humble heart. You will no doubt shed a few tears when you learn of the odds stacked against me. You will marvel at the triumph of the human spirit. You will need medication several times as you proceed. 

Due to my over-sized head, and exceedingly slow birth, my three younger brothers and sisters were born the day after me. It took some considerable talking to get them to crawl back and wait their turn. My youngest brother, a stubborn little guy, stayed in for another ten years. He started first grade the day he was born. The other two founded Microsoft and Apple, then sold out , claiming that the work was consuming their lives. All three now live comfortably on a small island off the coast of Cameroon.

My older siblings, five of them, turned me into the man that I am. My oldest brother, always the comedian, taught me to shave when I was a week old. It took 47 stitches and nose transplant to finish the job. I beat him up with his own shoes two weeks later. I will refer to him and the other older ones as the lucky five. They spent mom and dad’s millions the year before I was born. I was left to work to support the family. Last I heard of “the five” was faint rumors of life in a communal compound in Northern Spain near Bilbao.

My young life was simple: The family was hungry, and I was the bread winner. I crawled five miles to work at the sugar factory every morning until I was old enough to walk. I walked until I was old enough to steal a car. When I was six I sold that piece of junk and bought a ’69 GTO. They wouldn’t be on the market for another 3 years, but by then I owned considerable GM stock, so they brought me one of the prototypes. 

I bought, and then turned the sugar factory into a museum for antique spoons. Then growing weary of the many requests from the VFW for tours, I burned it, bulldozed it, rebuilt an identical replica and burned it again. The second time I did not doze it. I currently use it as a smoke house to make some of the finest brisket you’ll ever taste. 

In 1968 I hired eighteen ex-WWE wrestlers; I bought them a backhoe and a dump truck. They excavated an enormous basement under the sugar factory where I built an expansive cattle feedlot. My crew of full-faced bearded giants and I have been sending train loads full of processed beef to Laredo for the past 50 years. In Laredo the prime beef is re-branded as Texas Beef thereby eliminating the need for any beef to be raised in Texas since 1969.