This is Bradley W. Cavanaugh:
AKA Chad Sexington
Ol’ Brad is wanted in Wichita, Kansas for felony theft. Although the wanted poster doesn’t say, and I’m no Columbo, I have a pretty good idea what he has stolen.
He has stolen my look.
You see that disheveled hair? That slack-jawed look? Those superfluously layered clothes? That’s all me.
I have spent the better part of a decade sleeping with wet hair, shaving intermittently and inaccurately, and perfecting my “Is that a beer?” look. To have all my work and artistry shamelessly grifted by this charlatan — this common poseur — nearly makes me want to throw my custom skull and dragon bong (which, btw, is awesome) against my fireplace mantle dedicated to the empty bottles of the various types of liquor I have drank.
You think I like funneling beer? Or waking up at noon? Or sitting through 8 hour DVD marathons of marginal television shows? Of course I don’t. However, I have committed to a unique and cutting edge style, and, because of my bold yet utterly fabulous choice, I must bear this cross of couture, and I must defend my unique style from any and all imitators — no matter how well they pull off a five o’clock shadow.
I hope they catch Brad. I hope they catch him soon, before he further dilutes my brand, and I hope they throw the proverbial book at him. I will be at every parole hearing to make sure that this nefarious swine serves every day of his sentence for what he’s done to me.
That is, as long as I remember to set my phone’s alarm clock and can borrow enough money for bus fare to Kansas, which I won’t be able to do.
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