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Greg's
story begins on his 9th birthday. Taken for a birthday picnic
and accidently left behind, it was on the attempt to find his
way home that he began to have an appreciation for nature. He
quickly learned which berries, nuts and small animals could safely
be eaten, that the brown water was not good for bathing, and that
spreading poison oak all over your body would not, in fact, make
you immune.
It was during his years living as a feral wanderer that music
began to interest him. He loved the sounds of nature around him,
the splash of the rain, the tinkle of the streams, the wind through
the leaves, the Ford Bronco hitting the large deer. It was all
like a symphony to young Greg. He attempted to make his own instruments
from wood, rocks, moss and poison oak (which is how he knows that
his previous rubbing didn't make him immune). None were satisfactory
however and at age 18, he'd had enough and decided to leave the
forest, get a job and just buy a damn guitar like everyone else.
By now, he was naked and covered in a fine mesh of matted hair,
so getting a job wasn't easy, but he saw an ad from a laboratory
needing test subjects for experiments and was soon living the
high life.
Now, after years of practice, he has become a full fledged musician
and member of The Valves, but he never completely forgets his
days in the forest, and on the nights of the full moon, he can
sometimes be seen on a lonely hilltop, howling with rage as he
scratches that goddamn poison oak. |
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