Author’s Note: As noted in the summary, this is the sequel to My Entity. That said, if you have not read My Entity, you will be terribly confused reading this book. If you have, I hope you enjoy this continuation of the story. I will probably not start posting actual chapters until this weekend, but this is just to let everyone know that the sequel is on its way. And if there are any teenage boys reading this book, please feel free to offer me pointers. I am not, and never have been, a teenage boy, so I’m basically basing this character off of a mixture of my husband (per his stories of his teenage years) and some of the friends I had back in high school. Who were all, like me, dorks. Enjoy!

(and by the way, the first three titles are supposed to be marked out, but there was no way, that I knew of, anyway, to relay this to the website)

The Memoirs of Wesley Haverty

The Fabulous Life of Wes Haverty

The Extraordinary Adventures of the Magnificent Wes

A Dork's Life

January 8th, 2008

This is not a diary. This is not a journal. I am not that much of a loser. In fact, I am writing these memoirs because I know that, about fifty years from now, I will have died a complete and total nobody, but I will become posthumously famous due to the numerous and ingenious inventions I made throughout my life but was too humble to promote. After I become a dead millionaire—because of course I will not have a family upon whom to bequeath my fortune since no attractive woman in her right mind will ever have me, and I am a typical male in at least one respect, that being my desire to be with an attractive woman—the world will clamor for information on the life and times of Wesley Haverty. So I’m really just thinking proactively, is all. If I make sure that this memoir is accessible before my death, the world will know everything about my life.

We will start with my birth.

I was born February 18th, 1991 at 3:45 in the morning. I am the third of four children, having come after two prima donna sisters and prior to one sister who ought to have a permanent home on that television show ‘Kids Say the Darnedest Things.’

My siblings and I are an entirely different species. They would hardily agree with that sentiment, too.

My parents, however, I understand. They are psychologists, world-renowned and highly intelligent. Unfortunately, they do not believe that, at the age of almost-seventeen, I should be allowed to hold intelligent, adult conversations with them. I believe that my father’s exact words just two evenings ago when I attempted to engage him in a conversation about the moral ramifications of marketing immortality to the general public were, “Shut up, Wes. You’re a kid. Act like one.”

The theme of my life.

When I was two years old, I could talk in complete sentences. At two, my sisters thought it great fun to converse with me. When I hit the age of five—and they were seven and ten—and spoke better and had a much higher vocabulary than them, I ceased to amuse them. That was about when the “Shut up, Wes”-es began.

And they have never stopped, not one day since then.