Over the course of these forthcoming 10 questions you will adopt, raise and send a boy into the world. This boys name is Billy Goodman. What a poor life little Billy had handed to him.
His parents were wandering hippies who followed Phish around for years. They had their own band called Jinxing Mamma Flash Pants. They were unconsciously well-known for their 17 minute reggae version of "Puttin On The Ritz". Usually by stoner-frat kids, most of the time because they left his/her radio on when they past out drunk listening to their college's alloted "Jiving, Bob Marley, and crazy 70's TV Show Themes" hour
Well, anyway, one day they came down from a bad acid trip, and in the midst of being "bummed" that some apparent "fascist dickwad" stole their snicker-doodle, they discovered they had a baby boy... and boy did that not suit their lifestyle. So, one day they left him in a trash can behind a Fort Wayne Indiana "Apple Bee's". Billy was five years old at the time of the incident.
He was somehow able to blot out the memory of his parents and replace all the trauma of the incident with the memories of watching "Break Dancing 2: Electric Boogaloo". Now, even though he starts to have a nervous breakdown everytime he watches people breakdance, he's actually doing well for himself, with no concrete recollection of a traumatic childhood. His foster parents, however, have given him up
Now, it's your job to raise him. Why? Because you signed the imaginary peice of paper and now he's yours. Look, I don't know who told you this imaginary contract was for Tae Bo lessons. Now get the fuck out of my imaginary office and take the little shitbag with you.