Foster Heuer, Writer
Foster Heuer first emerged in the late nineties under “mysterious” circumstances. These first few years would prove trying, but Foster was able to gain much acclaim in various circles of 2 to 6 year olds. They praised him for his insight into naps and snacks; however, critics argued his work was largely derivative of Theodore Seuss, PhD. These critics would eventually gain favor with masses leading to a ubiquitous insurrection among his followers. Foster would soon disappear into obscurity. Little is known about his life in the ensuing decade: some say he joined the Navajo Indians, some say he was touring the eastern sea board with funk legend George Clinton, but most, at the time, believed him to be dead. Whatever the truth may be, Foster resurfaced freshman year of high school where he began his well documented, albeit short lived, football career. All was well for much of his rookie campaign, but, as was inevitable, tragedy struck. Matt Ryan, son of Rob, weighed between 300 and 30,000 pounds (at least somewhere between those numbers). This behemoth of a man cascaded on to what can only be described as the two of the most fragile and delicate knees to ever grace the face of the earth. Needless to say, walking was no longer an option. Crippled and dejected, Foster retired from football and once again faded into obscurity. He spent the coming months breathing, eating, and sleeping. Also talking and going to school and doing various other things. It would seem he has finally plateaued into the monotonous drum of a normal life. Perhaps this is true. Perhaps not. Me, I choose to believe he’s still out their, making love to the night.
