Mandatory Post

I'm posting this because I'm being told to. I don't like it. Hell, I don't even see why this is necessOKAY, MA'AM. Jesus. Okay, so it's me. Randall... the lawyer. Again. In case you forgot. I exist.

Yep.

Okay, is that all? What do you want me to do, write my life story?

...fuck, you're serious. Fine. Jesus, fine. I was born in 76. My family sucked, so I became a lawyer.

Happy? What!? More in depth? Fuck you two, man. Fuck. You. Two. Why don't you tell your own backstories, then? ...fine, whatever.

My name is Randall. I was born September 19th, 1976. I was born in an apartment outside of Chicago. My family was... I guess you could say they weren't the best of people. My father, specifically. He was an attorney. Not a good attorney. He was a defense attorney and stooped pretty low when it comes to his clientelle. He also practically abandoned my sister and I. Not quite- but he was never there. All around me, there were the kids, boasting about what they did with their fathers. Then, sometimes, when I was fairly rowdy, or he thought I was, he pulled out a rubber mallet, and crushed my pinky fingers. "Next time," he always said, "Next time, I'm going to cut it off, and I'm going to keep cutting until you have a stump for a hand, and nobody in the land could convict me. I'm that good a fucking lawyer, so you better keep your trap shut."

My mother was caring, but she was too afraid of nature to go outside. Once she said that if she went out, the mites would infest her hair, eat her eyes, and drain her blood. Either way, she wouldn't teach me what my dad could about nature. My dad was a boy scout, a pleasure I never got to experience.

Now onto the shitty ass time I call Law School-

fine.

But I'm finishing my story later.

Well, apparently I'm "wasting battery life", but I guess I'll finish this up when I can. Okay, which one of you two are next?