I'm a hobo wandering the streets of Neverland, searching for my one true loving cleansing cream. The nine cats I own have 81 lives in total. They feed off the goodies that unicorns would drop off at 03:30AM on Wednesday mornings. 

My huswife is currently the greatest person in the world. (S)he owns a company specialising in the research of flying pigs.

Currently, there's no success of finding any. However, with much faith and hope, I know one day I'll be living in a lap of luxury with flying pigs as my manservants and maids. 

For now, I will try my best to give you a simple reading experience to kill time before the pigs start to fly. I've come across many great writers and I always remind my huswife to bless them greatly with some flying pigs as well. That was a compliment.

If you're reading this, I thank you. Nobody else would want to read the autobiography of a street-wandering hobo like me.

You've just been guaranteed (insert number you like) _______ flying-pigs-servants. Yay!


 ∞

P/S That's an infinity sign, isn't it cute? It looks like '8' passed out. Someone get him/her a flying pig assistant!