My name is LaFandaNiquanda, and this is my

My name is LaFandaNiquanda, and this is my story.

I was born in a 1-room log cabin in Appalachia. When I was little, I dreamed of becoming an astrophysicist, but my MeeMaw told me "No, LaFanda! Yur gonna foller in my footsteps &

bewitch bears!" I didn't want to do what MeeMaw did. I didn't want to use magic on bears. She named me LaFanda but I could do something else. I could design candy.

It would be a bright yellow and give the mouth a real buzz. The chocolates would be skyrocketing in price. I would make millions in profits. My future looked bright, suddenly. The

tenement funster that I used to be would never have imagined how bright my future was right now. Sure, back then I had a way with the girls on my block and, sure, I didn't know shi

ngles from measles, but it was easier to get a medical license back then. Little did I know, that fake license was the passport to all of my dreams coming true. The first thing I

I had him committed on my say-so as a psychiatrist (courtesy of the impressive diploma I pulled out of a crackerjack box). Since he had a meltdown whenever they gave him crayons,

they gave him a job making candles. They would hand him crayons and a wick, and he would have a meltdown, and Bob's Yer Uncle, candles got made without wasting money on energy.

But, alas, a traveling tailor had no need for candles. So, he traded his crayons and wicks for a sewing machine and a mannequin. Then he opened a haberdashery on Abby Road, London.