Roofus Woggins

I apologize for not having updated more recently, but I just recently had my leg amputated and replaced with a pirate style peg leg. Perhaps I will go into more detail at a later date, but now I have some important information to relate to you all.

Roofus Woggins was born in Indianapolis in 1972. On the car ride back from the hospital, he managed to wriggle free from his mother’s grasp and leap out the window of the moving vehicle. That night he met up with a small community of stranded infants who had built houses, restaurants, stores, cars, and so on. They welcomed him into their community, and he lived there for the next 5 years. At the age of 5, he wandered off into the wilderness with no food or water. The only human life he could find in a several mile radius was a small gas station along the road he arrived from 5 years prior.

When the gas station attendant saw the 5 year old child waddle up, he was quite surprised. Roofus proceeded to walk up to one of the gas pumps, place the nozzle in his mouth, and begin pumping. This massive infusion of gasoline near tripled the size of Roofus over the next 10 minutes. The attendant watched in awe; only years later did it occur to him that he should have stopped the child, or at least called someone. But he did not do that, instead he simply watched and slowly ate his sandwich.

Around that time, a rusty red truck pulled into the gas station, next to Roofus. A fat man in overalls and straw hat stepped out of the vehicle next to Roofus, and cleared his throat loudly to announce his presence. It took Roofus a few seconds to realize that the driver needed to use the pump, but after he handed it over, a lifelong friendship developed.

Today, Roofus lives with the fat man in overalls in his shack in Paris, Texas. He sleeps in the coffin the fat man has in his basement (formerly containing his dead wife, he emptied the coffin of her body to make room for Roofus). Generally they spend most of their time sitting around the living room, drinking half empty beers they find in their neighbor’s garbage. Every Thursday however, they drive around town, hollering at the teenage girls at the local high school.

- Kent Wicklander