A published author of a grand total of one book in print and countless other short stories he's either misplaced or forgotten about, no one knows where Weaver comes from, or where he is now, let alone what he is and if he is indeed something, whether or not if that something is even important.

Yet like the plague, he is there, just.... there. People have poked him with sticks and on occasion he has ejected a story in protest, but for the most part, he sits at his laptop and engages in the finer art of procrastination.

An admirer of legends like the great Sir Pratchett and P.G. Wodehouse, and a fan of the undiluted humor and witty sarcasm genres, he'd rather not limit himself to either because no one can tell him what to do, nohow, and he'd be darned if he did it either.

Oh, and also, he writes.  On occasion