What were Leon Firestone and Mr. Jones like as children? Part 2

As Mr. Jones stated in the previous entry, we were not born into this world with the enthusiasm for survival documentation we possess now. My mother was not heavy with a child who craved enlightenment through knowledge, and knowledge through strength, and strength through 8 Minute Abs. Rather, it was a rocky road leading up to that faithful day at the Northern Divisional Speed Dating Competition. We might have only tied for fifth place, but I think our enriching lives earned us the gold.

Part 2: Leon Firestone

Yes, you read that right. I am one of the many Firestones, an influential family that has helped shape America into what it is today. For those uninitiated, my Grandfather Charles Firestone worked with Rockefeller and directly influenced the industrialization of America. You know the ideas of windows in factories and warehouses? That was all his idea, and I'd be darned if productivity didn't increase three-fold because of it. Unlike Rockefeller, he was not a philanthropist and kept most of his riches to himself, his wives, and the nine children sown from his seed.

My father Jebediah, the fifth sown seed in this Mormon family, saw my grandpappy as a greedy hedonist and moved out at age 17. From there, he opened his own sandwich shop a few states over and was doing surprisingly well for himself. He got positive write-ups in the local magazines and had opened up three other stores in neighboring towns by the time that grandpa died ironically by falling into the machinery he created a need for. In his will, he stated that all of his riches will be given to my father because he was the only one that "didn't suck from the wrinkly ol' Charlie teat." (Note: this was taken directly from the will. He sounds like a pretty cool guy.)

My dad's newfound affluence corrupted who he was and he ran away, suddenly becoming everything he ever hated. I was born from a prostitute that my father paid handsomely so she would bear his seed. He was hoping that a child would give his life direction and purpose, but it ended up just giving him a drinking buddy. Not that he was a huge alcoholic, mind you. He looked professional, like a Firestone, and showed up at all the right parties. He just did not know how to raise a child. Much like my counterpart Mr. Jones, I did not receive a traditional education. Which is to say, little education. Instead of going to school, my dad paid off teachers so I wouldn't have to show up or do any work. He got tired of this by the fourth grade, so he called in some favors, passed some money, and I became the only ten year old boy to ever get a Masters at Harvard.

Though this was a nice gesture, he completely ran out of money because of it. So it was up to me, the 12 year old Harvard man, to become the breadwinner. I bluffed my way through many interviews and took up oddjobs in which the employers paid no heed to the fact I was a mere child. For instance, butcher shops loved me. Not only because of my precise aim and tiny hands, but I did this trick where I could punch through a cow's skin and pull out any organ a coworker would name.

It was either learn a new job or starve, and I have an affinity for eating, so I just conned my way into different jobs, learning life lessons as I go. At the age of 16, I felt like I have already lived a full life, and it was a life that I wanted to spread with the world. Not through a biography of the forgotten Firestone, but through tips on how to live on this crazy ride we call life.