In Response to That Kind Detective You Sent Me

There was a time when we were without rules, without even a solid ground beneath us. It was all just ether and dreamers and whatever else we had lurking in our heads. Back then there was Harry, Tina and me and we were inseparable. They’re may have been other people but it’s hard to know fiction from nonfiction when you can talk to faeries and ride centaurs.

We would spend our nights in the purple gardens where the guava grows. At the time we thought it looked somewhat like corn and it did. While Harry and Tina made love, I would sit outside the guava tree and watch for griffins. The griffins hated lovemaking and if I spotted one it was my job to crow and crow I did as the griffin came swooping down at me. Luckily, Harry had that trusty claymore he always carried, He killed the creature with a single swing and we feasted upon it’s innards while still fishing guava husks out of our teeth.

Some time after that came thorazine and the world suddenly got really gray and Harry wasn’t anywhere. I guess he wasn’t anywhere before but he seemed to be somewhere at the time. I guess Harry wasn’t anyone. It was probably just me and Tina. About eight months later, they induced your labor and our little girl (?) was born. I’m sorry I didn’t get a good look and you must admit Francis is slightly androgynous . God, I hope I didn’t name you that. Anyways to answer your question, I’m your father. Or was that Harry? Oh right, fictions, sorry my bad.

Henry Oliver