Danny Bothwell, or as he is known these days, “Danny Bothwell,” hails from about a week in the past, though he sometimes returns from the future if he forgot his train of thought somewhere in the present. When he had just become the last well-formed hatchling of his brood, the queen of his hive issued a proclamation: “All progeny henceforth spawned shall be of better quality than this one!”
Growing up in four-and-a-half dimensions proved difficult for the young Danny, and even after settling into the familiar three-spatial configuration, he is still liable to end up two miles away and a kilometer above any given restaurant his friends meet up at. He was the awkward kid at school, though not entirely unliked; being able to blow his nose in perfect pitch earned him no small notoriety.
On the cusp of adulthood, Danny was eager to prove his worth, and thus undertook the coming-of-age rite-of-passage hyphenation-and-preposition-laden what-was-I-talking-about that all of his brethren must do. He is unwilling to comment on what it entailed, but it is known he failed. Every time. He passes the time these days by studying quantum chromodynamics and its effect on origami, and singing with Lager Rhythms on the days that he remembers where he last left his voice.