Dharkoshan’s father, Mharkoshan, was the proud father of a litter of eighteen midget children. His face would beam with pride as he cracked the whip and watched them tumble through the burning hoop. Seeing them fall into a heap on the floor brought a tear to his eye, as he’d scoop them all into the cannon and shoot them through the hole in the ceiling.
His single source of consternation however, was the runt of the litter. Standing a clear head above his brothers, the youngest of the pack by a clear hour displayed none of his siblings’ miniature charms, nor wit, intelligence, bravado or looks. Dharkoshan would never fit through the hoop, get crammed into the tiny wagon or be juggled by his oft-disappointed Dad.
And so, on his 38th birthday, he set out to prove himself to the world, naturally after stepping behind a bush to relieve himself…