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My kid. He used to exist. But alas, one fateful day, I pushed him down the stairs for my YouTube prank video, but his boney, frail arms fell off like he was some sort of Barbie toy. My non-existant friends recommended something called a 'Cremation'. I asked the officials for them to take my son and put him in an oven. A few days later, I got a physical email from something called a 'Crematory Service'. I cannot read, but this physical email did wonders on me. They sent me a box full of cat litter, so I put it in my dogs litter box.
My name is Bartholomew Facebook Bingle-Tingle III, and this is my story. My life started on the cold wet floor of a carpet dealer. My mother, Gertrude Mischievous Bingle-Tingle, was a coke addict. Every day, I would watch her slowly deteriorate her health by drinking more of that sugary, carbonated drink. My 12 fathers all tried to find different times to take care of me. Some fought and died. Nobody knows who my actual father is, as I was conceived during a 13-way orgy. I look and smell like if a dump truck ate a pregnant shark that was eaten by a murderous, Ohio butthole tickling bandit that was eaten by some larger creature and was then shat out, eaten again, shat out again, eaten again, shat out again and was then smothered in bleach. That looks like all of my parents. They are quite popular on UglyFans, the OnlyFans alternative for people who look like Greta Tunberg mixed with a shit-covered child from the dark web that was posted onto r/mildlyinfuriating because they child pooped in a diaper and the parents don't know how to clean it up.