POtatERskyiltZkin

He was all fucked up.  He looked like a knocked about tuber, and he stole food from everywhere -- half eaten or not, like it was all fruit of some vine grown for him.  POtatER was a nimrod, an iguana baby.  His mother, dying when he was 4, wondered what had she done to deserve such a burden?  His father was other relations, but that would have only mattered in a world of society.  The family were the only they knew.  They'd come to know life as children with no parents, and, even though some of their bodies were sometimes so perfect and elegant, too frequently children died young or were born off.  They just weren't fit for life.  They weren't fucked, and would unlikely reproduce, so the nimrods were given to the lives of a sort of domesticated animal, a dog or pet.

Violence was a custom, though it was rarely so ferocious as to be lethal.  They hadn't the heart to pity some of the children and grant them death.  They weren't entirely aware of death, anyway.  They just knew that sometimes they stopped breathing and when this happened they fell to rot away.  All this was better managed out with the filth in the downwind, downhill area.  It hadn't been convened that this may be their own fate someday.  Their language was mean.  They were given to air drawn symbols and gestures.

tatER was good at heart, in his way, but truthfully -- like a wild animal -- he wasn't capable of drafting up schemes of harm or considering any but his simple appetites and tactile gratifications.  They made him wear a hide of a meat, but he soiled it and if it were raining he refused without being prodded along at a point to do his business downwind, and downhill.  They had no name for it, just a face of disgust.  "Augh" would get the idea across in context, but tonally it could also convey excitement.

 god, what to do with this one...