I capitulated and finally made a facebook account. But I'm going to make it as hard as I can for those smarmy sons of sociali in the CIA to steal my kidneys. Hence I created a biography that is a tad... altered. Is it effective? You be the judge:
Dylan Meggs was born the son of a rich Albanian Ferret Harvester back in 1873. Early in his life, he discovered he had a penchant for catching tuberculosis. Seeking to make the best of a decimating situation, he exchanged his frequent diseases for fresh peanut brittle with intoxicated Peruvian Socialists.
As his peanut brittle empire continued to amass its nutty wealth, Dylan looked for avenues to express his growing ambivalence towards the letter "Q." He found such a vehicle in the form of one Mrs. Albierta Telesonatta McMingerson. Mrs. McMingerson, a widower, taught Dylan the ancient ways of the transcendental milkman. The two fell deeply in love, but in a tragic (some people believe intentional) accident involving William McKinley and a vindictive hot air balloon, Mrs. McMingerson was imploded.
Dylan was inconsolable. He continued his harvest of tuberculosis, but no amount of peanut brittle could stem the overwhelming misery that consumed him. Fortunately, WWI arrived and with it came many an opportunity to justify tap-dancing, an underground movement Dylan had been a part of since the Cleveland administration. Dylan tap-danced for Uncle Sam like no man had ever tap-danced before. They called him "The Dancin' Dylnamo", a name which would later result in legal action by a Japanese porn star of the same title. Dylan's dancing enabled an Allied victory, but the somber, insidious undertones of his performances spread a sense of disillusionment throughout America.
The Roaring 20's came and went, a period in which Dylan spent most of his time drunk in a dark alley wearing only one shoe and an incredulous expression.
The Great Depression shook Dylan from his stupor and inspired him to donate his peanut brittle to a needy country. Dylan traveled the country in a rickety old wagon pulled by a pack of three-legged grizzly bears, spreading his bountiful peanut brittle with all who dared to venture close enough to figure out where all those screams were coming from.
His supply of peanut brittle exhausted, Dylan returned to Knoxville, confident that he had changed the world. The country went to war once again, and many urged Dylan to don his tap-dancing regalia once more. However, shortly after the way began, Dylan developed an addiction to shiny objects. This obsession consumed him, and it wasn’t until 1952 that his friends and family convinced him to enter into rehab. 3583 grueling seconds later, Dylan emerged a new, albeit defeated, man. He went into hiding, and gradually faded from public memory for years.
Then, in 1984, Dylan reemerged in a fiery comeback that would have taken the nation by storm if he’d only remembered to pay his library fines. As it was, the outstanding debt was so monumental Dylan was placed into a maximum security internment facility. It was there he learned the tricks of the taffy trade and made connections that would cement his rise to power in the late 1990’s. A grateful descendant of a peanut brittle-recievee paid Dylan’s fines, thus allowing him to return to his home state and forge an empire of such fantastic proportions it seemed trivial. Starting a grass roots campaign, Dylan developed a brand of taffy that combined Italian voodoo and good ole Tennessean methamphetamines that became an overnight sensation. The money rolled in, along with various federal agents, and Dylan’s life became a whirlwind of whores, public broadcasting, and spiked apple juice.
Then, tragedy. On April 27, 2004, Dylan Meggs was shot four times in the left elbow by a crazed insurance salesman with a rubber machete and nothing to lose. He retired from the public scene and is currently living out the last of his days in an intensive care unit outside of Topeka.
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