I was sired and reared in West Philadelphia. As a lad, most of my time was spent at the neighborhood recreation center where I would laze about and relax in a most charming manner - that is, when I was not engaging my chums in a friendly game of basketball at the schoolhouse. Around this time, two young hooligans had begun to stage a campaign of vandalism and intimidation in my neighborhood. When my mother discovered I had had a bit of an altercation with the ruffians, she insisted I leave town at once and take up lodgings with my aunt and uncle in Bel-Air.

As the taxi approached, heeding my beckoning whistle, I could discern the word "FRESH" emblazoned upon its license plate, and took particular note of the pair of plush novelty dice which hung from the rear-view mirror. I was a bit taken aback by these strange omens, but quickly put them out of my mind as I cheerfully called to the driver: "To Bel-Air, my good man!"

We arrived safely in Bel-Air at dusk, and as the driver came to a stop in front of the house where I was to live, I left him with the words: "Farewell, sir. Perhaps my nostrils shall delight in your aroma once more!" To be sure, it was a long journey, and as I gazed upon my estate in all its splendor, I knew once and for all that my rightful place was on the throne - as the young scion of the great and mighty kingdom of Bel-Air!