My name is Lowmal Borsteka Krump.
My origins are humble.
I hail from a modest, lower-class family, 6th generation whose lineage can be traced back to Pol-Land, or what we now call Poland.
My Father, Mr. Morton T. Krump, a crusty old curmudgeon, constantly blamed me for everything from his alopecia to eating his stash of 'Tofutti-Cuties."
My Mother, Mrs. Trixie Scales-Krump, bless her gentle soul, could occasionally be seen rolling around on her back in the street, meowing, and tussling with a gigantic ball of yarn she had collected since childhood. We often had to squirt her with a water bottle to get her to stop.
I am the middle of three children.
My older sister, Hoarst, is in an asylum. Many a time, she would be in the check-out line at Krauser's or the old Woolworth's store on Rt. 9, and would spontaneously burst into her rendition of Ethel Merman singing "There's No Business Like Show Business."
My younger brother, also named Hoarst, was a genius. He could solve formulas which had baffled mathematicians for years. Then one day someone anonymously sent him a 'Rubik's Cube.' Last we heard, he was living out of an over-turned watermelon bin, somewhere near the Florida panhandle.
I had my '15 minutes of fame' in May of '74 during the Silverfish County Fair in Georgia. For about 6 weeks, I held bragging rights as the inventor of 'The World's Largest Ceramic Hot-dog', which was documented in the "Guinness Book of World Records."
It was a short-lived pride though, as my life's work was shattered when Meister Bardawulf Von Ragenmund, a bratwurst legend within the Pennsylvania Germanic community, built a monumental ceramic 'frankfurter' for the traditional "Bunning Of The Dogs" festival in Corndale, PA. He beat mine by a whopping two links.
My dream shattered, I retreated into the seclusion of the marshes of Berkeley Township, where I can be seen bobbing for shrimp, or posing as a human lighthouse with an 'Aim-a-Flame' to aid disoriented boaters into the safe harbors off of Butler Avenue.