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Guys, I really don't see what everyone finds so convoluted about my origin story. It's the classic rags-to-riches American tale! But just for the sake of repeating myself, here it is again:
In the far off dystopian year of 198X, an elite group of cyborg Mexican drug cartel scientists is seeking to create the perfect drug mule for smuggling hash across the US-Mexico border. They splice together the DNA helix of the common suri alpaca with that of a cannabis plant, hoping to create a beast who's fur, when dried out, would be virtually indistinguishable from premo-grade weed. The drought-hardy beast would be able to cart hundreds of pounds of its own fur across the unmonitored arid terrain of the western United States, whereupon it could be sheared by operatives stateside and its THC-laden floof sold off for enormous profits.
Unfortunately, the cartel scientists didn't do their research beforehand, as alpacas aren't really cut out to be pack animals... unlike their load-bearing cousin the llama, alpacas are small and frail. And, come to find out, the trichomes secreted from the tips of the hybrid's fur would actually seep into it's bloodstream throughout the day, making him perpetually lazy, forgetful and low-key hungry.
For the first couple of decades of the beast's life, it just sort of hung around the cartel scientists' laboratory, playing Podracer and Super Smash Bros. on N64 and eating up all the food in the fridge. Then one day, the alpaca just sort of... wandered off... presumably to look for more Cheetos. The scientists didn't really look for him all that hard, and decided to write the failed experiment off as a business loss on their taxes the following year.
The alpaca eventually found its way to the Bay Area, where it discovered tie-dye, left-wing politics, crystal shops and gay sex.
And that alpaca, ladies and gentlemen... was me.
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