Since I've left you all with a yearning for a Capricious Piffle for a while, I feel obligated to take a whack at this.
It was a cool, autumn day on the little Pacific island of Tao Pulai when a small package fluttered to the beach from who knows where. It was a lazy day, so most were unaware of the occurance. Osaki Bumbo, a poor fisherman living on the island, was meandering along the coast when he came upon the teal package. The old man opened the unattended parcel. Somewhat shocked, he took a step back. Slumbering peacefully within was a tiny baby boy, nestled among what appeared to be the crumpled folios of a yellowed addition of the Samuel Johnson dictionary. Being such a fine day, Osaki was in a congenial mood and decided to take the baby home to his village with him. The little boy was well accepted in the tribal community and lived there for the better part of his childhood. He spent much of his time reading, juggling, fishing for bicycles and playing the bagpipes. But as was the tribal custom, at the age of 5, all young boys were submitted to tribal vote on whether or not they could remain in the village. Seen as a bit of an outsider already, on his fifth birthday, the little boy was swiftly voted off the island and shipped to Minnesota, where, after attending Harvard University at the ripe old age of 6, he became a garbage man. He served in this position until he was 23, when he was promoted to President of the Financial Institute of Sartorial Humbuggery, an occupation which he still holds. In his free time he enjoys eavesdropping, weather forecasting, pole vaulting, playing water polo, darning socks, yawning, armed robbery and, of course, etymology. Thus is the tale of the rather obscure life of our dear friend, Tsuwm.
