It's been a long time since I've spoken to anyone about my past. Granted part of the reason for that is few people ever ask about it, but I also don't like to mention it if I can avoid it. I know many of my fans would feel sorry for me if they knew about it, but my life has gotten much better since then. Forgive me for taking so long in recounting my life. I figure I might as well put my past out there since I won't be around forever. There are certain issues from my past that may concern some people today as well.
Anyway, I'd better fill you in on my early years before I jump to the action. You see, musicians like myself always have stories behind them. There is more to my music that simple tunes after all. Not many people or animals know the history behind my songs and that history needs to be heard. Besides, a story isn't a story if it doesn't start somewhere.
I was born in the extremely poor town of Boondox. Before you ask, we did not eat dirt. No pun intended, but we were not dirt poor. Life sure was hard though. Believe it or not, my little family was actually relatively well off. My mom died giving birth to me, so I can't say much about her. My father always said I'd inherited my taste for music from her though. He said she loved all sorts of music, but she adored playing her harp more than anything. My father kept that harp so well polished after she passed on that I could see my reflection in it. My father was a country born man who worked in the family orchard, but he could be quite nimble with his huge paws when he put his mind to it.
I'll bet you're wondering why an orchard owner could be considered well off. The people and animals of Boondox didn't have many good jobs though. Many had to scavenge for food and water and though families with more money like mine could afford clean drinking water, we were lucky to get fresh food. It was almost always stale and that sure didn't help its taste one bit. I do remember that my father managed to buy me a box of stale cupcakes that were actually still tasty for my sixth birthday. How did he pull that off? Poor old Dad worked his tail off, that's how. He tended the whole orchard by himself day and night. He let me help him pick the fruits and bring them to market once I got older, but he still did all of the heavy work. When a tree got old and died or if a good offer came along, he'd chop it on down and carve it into something beautiful. Sometimes it would just be regular old firewood, but I've seen him carve furniture that Tom Nook would be proud to sell. That wood was how we really raked in he Bells.
The most beautiful think he ever made from that wood was never sold. When I turned 16, my father gave me the best guitar I'd ever seen. That old guitar is with me to this day and is as faithful as ever. Unfortunately, it was the last gift my dad gave me before things got ugly. The town had finally gotten too jealous of Totakeke and his old dad.
I'm afraid you'll have to wait until my next entry for the violence. For the sake of my readers, if I have any, I'd rather not shock them too much right off the bat. I must warn you; this will be a tale of violence, romance, heartbreak, and corruption. Many of you will be shocked by the events detailed in this story. But I'm going to sing this old song to its end. You might find yourself cheering at times, laughing at others, and unfortunately crying at still more. I can't determine whether the beat of this story will strike your fancy. All I know is that I need to get this off my chest. Whether you'll listen to my tale or not is up to you.