Steven R Bowes, Steven Bowes or just Steven for short, was born one momentous day in a blessed hospital beneath the sky as lightning struck down from the blackened clouds and stars collided above. It was the month of March of the year of 1998, on the 7th day and one not to be forgot. As he made his brave climb out of the womb into the blinding lights that beckoned his name, a destiny to be filled with the soul purpose of leading an army of small people on magical spitting Llamas, the Angles sang in chorus. Great ginger, luscious hair flowed behind him in the wind…fan. Great ginger, luscious hair flowed gracefully behind him in the presence of a rotating fan!
Okay there was no fan and there certainly was nothing graceful about the way Steven came into this earth. Born in a hospital in the old eternal way of his mother screaming enough to tire out four pairs of lungs while one man or woman yelled ‘Push!’, Steven was born a fat baby. There were no angles or chorus or lightning. It was a Saturday.
Steven then grew up.
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