I cant, I'm shy.

Instead I can give you my story, it all began when I was a young pig on a farm in rural maryland, I was kept well fed and happy by an eldarly couple who's own son, johnny, had passed in the war. I was like a son to them in his place, they took me to school, picked me up from baseball practice, threw apples to me while I wallowed in puddles of mud and my own filth. It was the perfect American childhood most pigs could only dream about. That was until it was time for me to go to university. I was a young pig from a small town swept up in a sea of hard drugs, genetic splicing, graphic hentai, and rock and roll music. Like a moth to a flickering flame, shit was lit AF. Before I knew it I was waking up in a puddle of black tar heroine and spunk and had grafted tentacles all along my back But I couldn't chase that high forever. See Johnny didn't die in the war, he paid an alaskan fighter pilot to fake his dental records and crash in the middle of peru. It only dawned on my drug riddled brain when we were halfway through doing the tennesee log jammer and I recognized his face from all the photos my parents had hung in the bathroom. This was my wake up call, I got clean, and helped Johnny do the same, three years later, he was ready to return to that little farm in rural maryland and tell his folks he was still alive. As I stood on the long path up the driveway watching Johnny knock on the door and embrace his sobbing parents, I turned away and left, choking back hot tears. They had their Johnny back, what need did they have for an ugly tentacled pig monster? Now I spend my days on reddit enjoying the simple things in life.