Vincent

A Vincent will never throw a baseball with anywhere near the same flourish that he does a 20-sided die. Why? Well, mostly because you should never throw a baseball with a flourish. It just isn't done. Also because Vincent is about 99.978% poet. The rest? Filler.

No baseball.

Vincent has the most magnificently long girl hair. Honestly, it's transcendent. It hangs down his back, well past his bra-strap, and there's not a split end to be found. And, at the very end, the hair is bound with...a scrunchie. Now, mind you, this isn't a ponytail proper. Ponytails can actually be okay. Hell, there are plenty of Hell's Angels sporting very respectable ponytails (although they rather than using a scrunchie to maintain their ponytail, they simply use the flesh of the innocent). No, the hair still has that lustrous, flowing look; it is just kept a bit more manageable with this...scrunchie.

Vincent is just so sensitive, barely ever speaking above a whisper whilst nibbling on his carrot sticks. His pale, delicate features bear an expression that could only be described as "wistful." Why the wistful look? Most likely because he still holds onto hopes that he will be visited by Dumbledore and whisked off to Hogwarts like in the paperback edition of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix that he carries along with him. Vincent? You're pushing 30. If an owl was going to bring you a letter with the Hogwarts seal stamped on it, it would likely have come back when you were getting beat up and really could have used it.

No, Vincent will never be my son. There's a reason that the sensitive, misunderstood lion-thing in Beauty and the Beast was named 'Vincent'. That was the only way that we would know that behind that hideous visage lay (lie? lied?) the heart of a poet. If my son is going to fulfill my dreams, he has to be a lot more Mickey Mantle, and a lot less lion-living-in-a-sewer.

So, Vincent, enjoy your renaissance festival and wear your tights proudly. Just know that you will never share a name with my son.

Apologies to any Vincents reading this (now go cut your damn hair)