Monday

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“He sucks massive dick when nobody's looking”
~ Oscar Wilde on Monday
“I hate Mondays”
~ Garfield on Mondays

Born in 1912 as Perry H. Dudley Von Pomfenshire, he changed his name to Perry H. Monday Dudley Von Pomfenshire in 1912. Later, in 1912, it was shortened to Monday Dudley Von Pomfenshire, and then, in 1912, just Monday. He is the discoverer of Monday, the second and worst day of the week. He typically can be found in the streets of the small town of Placeland, McCountry. Although hated by many, others still to this day consider him a genius.

Scottish highlands
The hills of McCountry, near the town of Placeland. Monday used to roll down the hills for hours as a child.

edit Early Life

He was born in a small cottage on the outskirts of the town to Ms.Whatsherface and Mr. Whatshisname. They raised him for two months, and then promptly dropped him out a window on the 122 floor of a local skyscraper. It was here, with no signs of being saved, plummeting through the upper Troposphere and shitting his pants, that he came to his first realization:

If you were to create a day where bad things happened, they would most likely stay out of the rest of the week... hopefully.

Later, at age 19, Monday packed his bags and caught a plane heading to the U.S.A. After his hand had recovered from the injury, he took a vacation to Southern North Carolina, where he supposedly met The Man, and walked across the worlds fattest man. He continued his travels all the way from the jungles of Sumatra to the frosty frozen freaking freezing fucker of a country known as Boot. He gained much wisdom along these travels, met many friends, and ate most of them in the extreme conditions of the climates. He traveled for decades, but in the end, he still felt like there was something missing in his life.

He returned home to McCountry to find his house had been burned down by some neighbor kids. It was at this point that he came to his second big realization:

If you have a big realization, it's best to write that shit down so you don't forget it.

edit Early Career

Shortly after his 42nd birthday, he became a practicing professional Professor of Sciencestrology, also dabbling in the minor studies of Hobo-ology. He began dissecting lizards and other small Republican creatures in hopes of finding the legendary "Missing Day" which would later be named Monday. He worked alone in his makeshift laboratory for hours and hours. Yet he could find nothing. He turned to dissecting unsuspecting hobos. Slowly his work turned into madness, an Monday developed a condition known as "Frank Stein Syndrome", in which he had compulsions to dissect anything and everything. He had trouble doing this, however, so narrowed his goals to something more tangible.

Townspeople began to notice a steep decline in local hobo population. The percentage dropped from 76% to 22% in only a few week. Sheeple began to panic, and began shouting nonsense at their dogs in hopes of accomplishing something.

“Why, When I was your grandpa's oven mitt George W. Obama wouldn't let us have the key to the escalator!”
~ Local citizen shouting at their dog

Police cars and scooters began patrolling the streets for anyone suspicious or "murderer-looking". They made twelve arrests before finally getting to Monday. Although details are limited, it is known that Monday injured several officers and escaped through the bathroom window without any pants on.

Kerncosherrif
The Police arrive to arrest Monday.

edit Capture, Trial, and Sentence

Monday went missing for a week and three days before turning up in a high School locker, jerking it furiously. Police arrested him and several other people, taking them all to jail.

Monday attempted to get his story straight, but was overcome by the urge to dissect things. He attempted to dismember two people and the judge during the trial. His sentence was simply this:

“Your sentence will be long, annoying, understand to hard at times and will go on even when it's not needed to... and you won't like it one bit, because it will be a run on sentence that will just keep going and going and going until you think it's finally over

and then will will continue again for no reason at all and stop again suddenl-”

Monday spent the next 15 years in jail, where he received several free knives, given to him in the chest by inmates. He also managed to suppress insanity, and defended himself against three attempted rectal invasions. When he left, he was given one last knife as a token of the inmates' gratitude. From then on for quite some time, he left an elegant trail of wisdom, courage, and blood. He returned home, and resumed his studies crime-free (except for a few endangered elephants here and there).

edit Discovery

Three years passed, and in October of 1912, Monday had a breakthrough. In the anus of his goldfish, "Skippy", he found the missing day that he had been looking for all this time. being the self centered post-insane man he was, named it after himself. From here he took his day to the "Council of Calender Keeping", where he again met The Man, the head of the council. He presented the day to them, which they outright rejected due to it being "unneeded, and a little too boring", another man was quotes saying "It smells bad and it poorly misshapen".

Monday was crushed, but went back home and wrote a speech, showcasing the brilliance of the day he had discovered. He then returned to the Council, and presented his day again. The Council already had another day they were considering for being the second day of the week. They had been considering the submission of "Sir Fappington Of The West", which was called the "Day of Redundancy Day". They however, noted the value of having one day to suck to make all the other's look better by comparison. Also, it sounded a lot better with the other names already chosen. Monday was accepted into the week, and when the week was officially finalized in 1912, it was received as expected; poorly.

edit Old Age And Murder

Twenty Years passed. It was now 1912, and Monday had retired to his home in McCountry where he had been living his whole life. He spent most of his evenings sitting on his rocking chair on the porch, playing his banjo or Moog Modular Synthesizer. It was a simple time, and he only had his house burned down by the neighbor kids one or two more times.

Unfortunately, fate called Monday's name from far across the planes of existence. Fate claimed after it departed at the gate and got through security, it was coming. And it did so in the form of Sir Fappington Of The West, who held a grudge against Monday for stealing his spot in the week. One night, Fappington snuck into Mondays apartment, and dragged him out of his house. After a short ride to the sea, and then a considerably longer ride out to the ocean, Monday was fed to a pack of walruses.

His body was found four days later by walrus hunters. The news was received around the world and the moon with mixed reactions, but one thing is for certain, though; he will not be forgotten.

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