I was taught English, taught about God, fed, given clothes and a room to sleep in. They even found a restaurant for me to work in once a week. I started off waiting tables, but I scared the customers and they quickly found things for me to do out the back. They tried to take me to dinner parties, to picnics to the theatre, to exhibitions, but I would eat with my hands, and growl and fight and awkwardly try to rub women, which was distressing to everyone involved. I eventually took to hiding naked, alone in my room drawing with my own poo on the walls and throwing it at those who tried to enter. They gave me pens and paper, and would show my drawings in public where they were well received. They began locking the door to my room, and would only feed me when they were satisfied with my work. I was forced to survive by eating old exhibition invitations, left over wine and art materials. Of course the time came when I murdered and ate them and fled into the wild, living the rest of my days in freedom, sleeping under the stars and plotting with the animals the overthrow of human civilization.
Tom O'Hern: Dog Boy