My name is Patrick and I write stories.
Born during the dustbowl era, young Mr. Jameson supported his baker’s dozen of brothers and sister by splitting rail-ties with cutting remarks. At the age of sixteen he was shanghaied in San Fransisco by a trawler crew in desperate need of a ship’s magician; abducting him due to an unfortunately mysterious mustache. Finding his card tricks lackluster and his dove to be nothing more than a painted pigeon, the sailors forcefully disembarked the young man upon Moresby island off the coast of British Columbia. There he would survive on a diet of ground voles and acorn paste, until managing to signal a wayward fisherman and barter passage to mainland in exchange for a fine vole fur coat.
What followed after was a lengthy incarceration by the Canadian government as they attempted to use the young American to infiltrate a moose poaching ring. The operation was destined to go awry when they demanded Jameson execute a juvenile moose to prove his loyalty. Refusing outright to murder the majestic creature, he instead cut it loose and rode it off into the night, pursued by the somewhat irritated cries of peeved Canadians. Learning the secret language of mooses, Jameson decided to settle somewhere his forest friend could visit but was outside the reach of courteously vengeful mobsters.
Today he can be found in Minneapolis, Minnesota.