my friend pat

I have a few theories about my friend Patrick. The one I'm most certain about is that he was born and raised in depression-era boston, then frozen and stored away until he was thawed by scientists in 2006, just before I met him. I believe he was a hobo before he was frozen. I imagine he ran into some trouble with the law whilst jumping train cars. He wasn't much use in jail on account of he refused to assist in the production of license plates due to his staunch anti-license plates political beliefs. He argued that every car should have a proper name, just like people. So when the prison guards put him to work on the license plates, he just kept making ones that said "Jeremy Ripplington" and "Nathan Bramblegam" and so on and so forth. The guards took him out of the license plate plant and tried to put him to work on the chain gang, trimming grass on the sides of highways. Patrick quickly proved useless in this form of labor as well on account of he greeted every car that passed on the highway. He'd put down his sickle, tip his cap, and say "good day, Mr. Samuel Tangingtan" or "lovely day for a drive, isn't it Mz. Suzanne Pancakehaus?"
The guards were at a loss. Then one day, a young doctor by the name of Randy Seuss wrote to the penitentiary describing a radical new medical procedure he had been researching. He was hoping to test it on animals and/or prisoners. At that time, the prison no longer held animals but they were more than happy to donate Patrick.
In 2006, the project lost it's funding and doctors were forced to thaw Patrick and release him into the wild with little to no direction at all.
Another theory I have about my friend Patrick, and I don't have as much proof to back this one up, is that if you can catch him while he's chewing on your hair when you're sleeping, he has to give you a gold coin. I've almost caught him twice.