WTFKEITH. Apr 6, 2009 16:45:51 GMT -5
Post by Fynne Claraty on Apr 6, 2009 16:45:51 GMT -5
member title here
I, Keith Edmund Lowry am twenty-two years old. As a muggleborn , I support the The Order Resurrected. I ciaim that I am a heterosexual male. I am a practicing actually, to be honest, I have no clue and the current wand on display - twelve inches, eucalyptus wood with Re’em fur - is mine. If asked, I can present evidence of my human status. I currently do own a tarantula named Estralita. My patronus can best be defined as a ferret. I am currently employed by The Quibbler as a columnist.
- IN PARAGRAPH FORM
VOICE, LANGUAGE, ACCENT
- When Keith gets particularly excited, he begins to talk very fast, very loud, and with lots of crazy, theatrical gestures that will embarrass you if you happen to be in a public place.
- He’s American, so his twangy Texas drawl stands out amongst the sea of Britain’s finest.
- Keith’s got a long scar up his right thigh from a car accident when he was home the summer betweeen his fifth and sixth year. He was driving through an intersection when his side got T-boned by a drunk guy not paying attention. However, it doesn’t stop him from being a madhouse driver. His little VW Beetle rockets through England’s streets like nobody’s business. He’s a good driver, just a little reckless. Also, ‘ta ama yeli’ is written in script on his right wrist, which means Texas, United States in the Cherokee language. He got it upon moving to England.
Ohdear. Keith just may have the strangest clothing style ever to set foot among the human race, even among wizards. His favorite clothing piece is actually an authentic kilt that he wears all the time. Other than that...ah...interesting piece, he’s usually wearing at least one abnormal piece of clothing. A tie, suspenders, a goofy belt buckle, anything that’ll catch attention and make him stand out. He’s also commonly wearing a paperclip necklace that he made. His clothes are actually very important to him. Even though they’re mostly strange, he’s always got a very specific look going for the day.
- Michael Lowry, fifty-three, Will Save Your Ass in Court for $30000.
- Katherine Benchley, fifty-two, Enjoys Torture of Young Children in the Name of Medicine.
- Nonexistent children.
- Robert Lowry, eighty-three, Retirement Home Leech
Amanda Lowry, deceased
John Benchley, seventy-four, retiree.
Elsie Benchley, seventy-one, retiree.
AUNTS AND UNCLES
- Jack Lowry, fifty, Record Holder for Number of AA Meetings.
Rachel Lowry, fifty-one, First Grade Teacher from Hell.
Shaun Benchley, fifty-three, Inquisition Dentist.
Liz Benchley, fifty-one, Willing to Run You Over to Make it to Soccer Practice.
Ellen Benchley, forty-nine, In Other Words Crazy Artist.
- Shelley Lowry, twenty-seven, Trophy Wife.
Richard Lowry, twenty-six, Don’t Worry He’s Sterile.
Laura Benchley, thirty, Hell’s – Laura’s Kitchen.
Tom Benchley, nineteen, Keg Stand! Keg Stand! Keg Stand!
- None at the moment...ladies.
- Amurrcan. Yo whazzup my homies.
- Technically Dallas, but really a tiny town named Stanley in the middle of nowhere in central Texas..
- Wizarding London, in a little flat across the street from the Quibbler office.
- Keith Edmund Lowry was born into privilege. And not just because his father is the best –and most expensive- lawyer in the state, and his mother a pediatrician to the elite’s beloved spawn, but both of his parents come from esteemed family money. So you’d think Keith would grow up to be one of those Southern boys with the big white plantation houses on some waterside and attends the most private of private schools.
Nope. Thank God for favorite aunts, yeah?
Ellen Benchley, estranged by choice from the family, and so far disappointed in her other nieces and nephews, saw hope in Keith. And Keith adored her. He spent every other weekend and many of his summers on her large, eclectic ranch, helping the workers there with her small herd of cattle and other members of menagerie. Her house was so different from the in-your-face, competitive, and ultramodern city of Dallas. It was like a totally different world. Where all you had to do in a day was take an easel out to a field and paint, if that’s what struck your fancy that particular day. Where, instead of having to use his imagination, Keith quite literally became a cowboy, a chef, a painter, a pianist, a writer, any project that he felt like doing. Even young, Keith was an odd bird. He wasn’t friends with any of the boys at his school, and occasionally, strange things would happen to him. A hated teacher would suddenly become mute. Random objects would inexplicably float. His parents were frightened, but Ellen knew it was only a confirmation of what she had seen in him as a baby.
I, Marie, swear that the above application is of my own creation. I claim that I am a female living in the Eastern Time Zone. After finding this site through let’s just say I know people, I promise to try and be the best member that I can be by following all of the rules that have been set for me as a member of Killing In Our Sunday Clothes