Alfred Jessco Luntzer

Name: Alfred Jessco Luntzer
DOB: September 3rd 1973
Residence: Richmond Virginia
Occupation: Painter (non artistic)

In 1979 little AJ Luntzer popped out of the baby factory known as Angel Holiday nee' Luntzer. His conception was not for lack of prophylactics, but rather it was because his parents didn't care, that is just how they roll. His parents were country folk, and not the idyllic country folk portrayed in Hollywood films, but the brain dead country folk who really live in the country. I am not saying all hillbillies are retarded, some of them have no mental retardation, but what I am saying is that they are stupid people. Without getting too far off topic, consider this, you have the option to live in a remote area of the country with little industry or chance for employment and exponentially more likely to be hit hardest by natural disaster, or you can move 50 miles to a place where people don't freeze to death because its cold.
AJ had eight brothers and sisters, but by the time he was 14 he had 6 brothers and sisters. His oldest brother died while trying to light a raccoon on fire that was hiding in a drainage tube that ran under the road. Randy, may he rest in peace, turned that drainage ditch into a high powered cannon. He poured about two gallons of gas into the tube, to 'smoke the raccoon out', but little did he know that the raccoon had made a nest out of the cramped tunnel. At the far end the industrious little creature packed in a year or more worth of debris to create a comfy nest. I don't want to get off topic here, but it is necessary for me to explain a simple fact of physics because it relates heavily to this story. The reason bullets come out of guns in a common direction is because one end of the barrel is blocked off, while the other end has a convenient opening, this is known as taking the path of least resistance.
When Randy Luntzer, RIP, lit the fumes of the two gallons of gas on fire, he had his big hillbilly head lined up with the open end of the tube. There was a quick sucking noise that didn't last but a second, and it was immediately eclipsed by a loud woomf. Although his head was only in the opening for a brief moment, the rocket engine blow torch blew fire straight into Randy's face, up his nose, down his throat and all around his big dumb head, effectively killing him.
Alfred's sister Lwanda died via far less spectacular circumstances. She was riding passenger in her boyfriends 72 Nova when it was hit by a drunk driver. The only thing of note about the accident is that the drunk driver was Alfred's uncle, Jimco Holiday. It was a tragedy, and it took Alfred's parents weeks to forgive Jimco.
Given his meager beginnings, it is not surprising that Alfred has not done much with his life. It is surprising though that he is still alive given all the dangers hillbillies face when they come to big cities like Richmond Virginia. When he first arrived in 84, AJ was 11 years old, which in country folk years and much like dog years, is actually 24. His first job was picking up nails off city streets. It was a contract job and paid poorly. It wasn't until the early 90's when Richmond University began experiencing a growth spurt, that AJ finally came into his stride.
While out hunting for nails one day, he met another hillbilly who had made his way to the big city from his small hometown of Wise Virginia. AJ recognized him immediately as Kemper Lee Colby, and the two couldn't believe their good fortune. After hearing what a shit job AJ had, Kemper offered him work on a paint crew that was doing work for the University.
AJ never looked back. Sure he coughs a lot now, has pain in his neck, and back and can't really feel his fingers or toes all that well, but he has a sweet job. It sure beats picking up nails.