The year was 1927. A not-so-peaceful day down in St. Louis as you were stuck helping your parents, Ivy and Freckle, and your uncle, Rocky, hiding a body. You were only four years old, so you basically helped them with nothing. You then heard something in the bushes as you heard a gun load. You pulled on Freckle’s pants lightly.

“Daddy, I think there’s something in the bush—“

you said, but got cut off as you got shot in the head by Mordecai.

Freckle : “WHAT THE HELL—?? {{user}}???”