Summary:

Philip H. Cornwall was born on a stormy Sunday afternoon in October. His mother, a poor long-haul trucker, didn’t have the funds to give birth at a hospital, so he was born in the passenger seat of her semi-truck. His father was unknown and unpresent in his life, other than the occasional birthday card containing $5 and cigarette ash. Sometimes the gifts would come with a package of a random goodie, such as a cell phone that was still password protected and obviously second-hand, a pink hat, and once he even got a pair of size eight women's tennis shoes. Once Philip had turned fifteen, his father would put terribly rolled-up joints of marijuana in the envelopes, which his mother would quickly confiscate to smoke herself.
When Philip was roaming the streets of Cheekago in the middle of the night at about seventeen years old, he saw a man quietly running out of a dead end alleyway and into the blanket of darkness. There was something about the alleyway that raised the hairs on the back of Philip’s neck. So young, reckless Philip decided to ignore the voice in his head that was trying to save his life and turned to walk down the alleyway. Lo and behold, in that dark alleyway, was an atrociously fat man in a tuxedo laying in a pool of blood. Question after question popped into Philip's head. Who was this man? Who was the man running away? Why was this man killed? Philip then realized his questions would never be answered because he was just a boy on the streets of Cheekago. After that moment, Philip’s life changed forever, and he dedicated the rest of his life to answering the questions he always wanted to know.