And then (what can you do?), my brother came in. Did I know I had a brother? No. But he laughed and he laughed at me nonetheless. He laughed and he laughed, but he was suffering, and his name was Charles.

He was my twin brother, but as a baby he laughed too much, which was creepy, and so our parents chucked Charles into the ocean. After several months, he was retrieved by a family of loons. There was empathy there. He studied their ways, bid them adieu, and settled on what he called (at the time) “La Isla de Carlos.” The loons spoke Spanish. Who’d have guessed? Not I.

Before I danced my first step in my aforementioned pretty shoes, Charles was already riding giant tortoises. The tortoises were not good company, however, as they spoke Japanese, which Charles was slow in picking up. They were mutually frustrated and, though Charles kept on laughing, he was lonely. He rechristened his island “Aburridaville.”

And soon Charles left Aburridaville behind him. His departure was received coolly by the tortoises.