Matthew Rooney

Tally ho, fellow literary traveler! Be wary, you are about to read the bio of Matthew James Rooney III. The bravest of men have run away out of fear after hearing it. If you do this, my Micahel Chiklis henchman will come in the night and ruffle your sock drawer, and it will be really, really hard to clean up. Begin……with caution!

I was born into wealth in upstate Tennessee. My father ran a company that dealt in providing equipment for young boys who wished to become dancers on Broadway. My mother, a drunk, often thought my father was having secret relations with Neil Patrick Harris. Not realizing the awesome benefits of that situation, my mother shipped me away at the age of 5 to the Shinnotictac-bunziarashoman village in China in hopes of a simpler life.

There I was adopted by a hobo named Humbbatinoshacquanzi-Jones. He taught me how to hunt, fish, sleep, eat with proper table etiquette, how to make tricycles from assorted squirrel furs and those strange hairs you found in your cafeteria food although you could swear the lunch lady was wearing a hair net. But, most of all, he taught me how to love.

Fifteen years later, Humbbatinoshacquanzi-Jones died while approaching a wild turkey too fast. I ran, but no matter how loud the gobbles got, I could never escape that sight…all the feathers. But I saw this as an opportunity to accomplish my dream. I returned home to Tennessee and detained the highest prize in the land: Best in Show at the Westminster dog show.

I returned older, stronger and armed to the teeth…with Snausages, and I entered the pageant with my head and spirits high. But I was denied my prize. The judges said this was because my dog Pooky was brain-dead, had no legs and was a goldfish.

All of this was true, so I ran away into the mountains. It is there where I stayed and continued to do so. I spend my time growing my beard, wearing cheap sweaters and chopping wood until the day when a CIA agent dramatically found me to ask me to do a national service only I can do... save the president.

Congratulations! If you are reading this, you have made it through my dark and twisted tale. Your courage and skill are unprecedented. As a reward, I have placed the keys under your chair to the most glorious car in the world—imagination! Welcome to the world of Wingspan’s entertainment editor.


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