I was born in the lost city of Atlantis, although back then it wasn’t so lost. In fact, Atlantis was the go-to place for parkour enthusiasts and Siberian truck drivers alike. Things went tits-up, as tends to happen. As the city sank into the depths, all seemed lost. It was then I had wandered into a decaying ship, where a massive shark sat reading behind a desk. He gave me a stern look-over before smiling and said some things in sharkese. They had decided to adopt me so that I may use my magic (being able to throw popcorn into people’s mouths and never miss) to aid them in their struggle against the Dolphin Empire, an offer which I accepted. When The Great Nigel McJaws fell in battle, I took up his bagpipes and became the new shepherd of the herd. I drove the dolphins from our waters, my prowess elevating me to the title of Demigoddess. It was time to test land. My thumbs allowed me to climb up to the surface, where I discovered a whole new civilization. As I wandered the streets I happened upon a lone child, dirty and ragged. I adopted him on the spot. As we wandered along I found another child, and another, until I had an armada of over 42 childs. I watched them grow and immature as I remained eternally young and beautiful thanks to the aardvark blood that flowed through my gold-plated, diamond-encrusted veins. Yes, I was filthy rich, and remain so to this day. This was due to my multi-billion shilling enterprise, in which I would adopt misbehaving childs for a fee. My noble work continues to this day as I fight the good fight alongside my husband, Scarecrow, with whom I spend 24.333 hours a day drinking vats of coffee and staring directly at the sun, wondering if I could ever be so grossly incandescent...