My name is Jack Leroy Whitsby. My parents did one of those overseas adoptions. They lucked out getting me from Russia before restrictions got so tight it was hard to adopt any kid overseas. I have to say, I’m surprised they didn’t drop me and demand their money back when I was handed to them. I wasn’t the cute bundle of joy they had pictures of and had seen on their visits.
Three visits in all and they had bonded with some other baby boy. I can only assume I was snuck in by the orphanage to get rid of me as fast as possible before the evil powers of the devil could form.
Seriously, I’m lucky to be alive most people like me are left to die at birth or just killed with mercy in Russia.
I say that because I’m a freak. If you’re one of the bleeding hearts, then I would have to say, “Hello I’m Jack, and I’m a human oddity, but that’s ok because God made me beautiful in my own way and he loves me.
This is my story. It’s not mine alone. There are several characters involved in every story. As I sit here smoking a joint looking through a stack of postcards that had belonged to my best friend, I know it’s really his story too.
It’s really his story because he changed my life.
Let me start out though, with my part in all this. This is the beginning of the story of Jack Leroy Whitsby.
A.K.A Johnny Elf