One average morning, in the lower loins of the southern states, a not so average baby boy was born. Though his mother and father could immediately sense that he would grow into a powerful defender of extreme manhood, they could never imagine the pinball proficiando he would become; a wizard among mere mortals. He was drawn to the seductive game as a moth is drawn to light, a famished lion to a sweet piece of flesh, or a 12 year old boy to the crispy pages of his fathers newest Penthouse edition. As thegardin1 devoured more and more pinball challenges, he found that he was simultaneuolsy losing his grip on reality. But what need had such a pinballing god for the qualms of the "real world" anyway? Slowly, he watched his friends and family fall into the oblivion of earthly matters, focusing only on his desire to get all of his tiny balls into the multitude of holes in front of him. As we have learned from history, however, the bigger they are, they harder they fall, and there was no way that the tightly wound strings of the fates would allow this boy to ride such a glorious wave so consistently. In a disturbing, yet life changing turn of events, the family matriarch, his beloved meemaw, was killed by a stray pinball that escaped through some broken glass on an older game. Though thegardin1 would have been satisfied to let this tragedy end his gaming career forever, an inspiring and vivacious friend encouraged him to chase his springy dreams (after the appropriate amount of mourning time of course.) He now spends his days chasing the smooth curves and sharp edges of the machine, pulling back the plunger to feel the sweet release; the moment of contact. Though he will never truly overcome the gut wrenching memory of meemaws last breathes drawn labourisly around the tiny metal ball lodged into her broken jugular, and though he will never forget the weight of her cottony white head slowly losing consciousness in his arms, he could not stay away from his first love, the ever evasive pinball.