You may call me "Gezzaya the Beetle Lord of the Seventy-Million-and-Eighteenth Dimension, an Alternate Pocket of Reality That Is Exactly Like Our Earth, Except That Krakatoa Erupted in 889 A.D., Cher Is Pregnant With a Clone of Herself, And It's Lorded Over by Men Who Are Half Beetle." You could call me that, but it would be rather silly, not to mention time consuming and (mostly) inaccurate.

Many worldlings elect to call me by my worldling name, and you may do so as well, at no cost whatsoever. I am a kind man; I charge no royalties.

You may note a distinct lack of disclaimers in my fics. That would be due to the fact that I think they're dumb. Did you know that from a purely lawyerly standpoint, fanfiction is pretty illegal, no matter how earnestly you beg people not to sue? It's an exhilarating life, committing a crime with every keystroke. I marvel at my own prowess evading the law's cold, merciless clutches. That, however, is only part of the reason I write these homages to my favorite series. I also do it for commercial gain.

As for the sordid details of my life, I shall keep mum, and cultivate an alluring mystique. I will tell you this much: If you ever hear a frantic gibbering in the night, odds are decent it's either me or one of my repulsive swamp zebras. Do excuse them; they seem to resent all the probings, and won't shut up about them. Don't be alarmed if in the clinging shadows the gleam of their equine yet strangely reptilian eyes penetrates your very soul--in reality, it's only a very mild poking of the soul.

That is all.