It must have been 1986 when I was forcefully brought into this world, gloriously arising from the murky depths from which I had come. My parents swore that the first time they looked at me, they saw a fire in my eyes, an electrical storm of both innocence and great power. And thus, with the swift flick of a pen, my fate, along with my name were sealed.

Thunderboy Andrew Thomas.

My mother says my throbbing ears devoured those glorious seven syllables. I braved the world with a smile, and, of course, the sneeze that immediately followed.

However, right after I had been brought before Theresa and Tony Thomas, only to be met with peaceful silence, another slimy, pink, screaming abomination pushed its way out of my mother’s cooch, this time greeted with pure excitement.

Fireworks flew through the sky, flecks of their glory scattered everywhere, whisky ran from every damn stream, our side of Maine, and I’m pretty sure cancer was cured, it was just pure bliss.

For them.

However, I was left there feeling significantly less Thunderboy-ish than I had when I came out kicking and screaming.

To say my brother did the same would be a gross over simplification

He was throwing his appendages about as though he didn’t want them any longer, he was screaming like there was no tomorrow, and, above all, he was hogging the spotlight like nobody’s business.

The bottom line is, even from the moment he was born, my brother an over achiever.

As the doctor swaddled me in his arms. I had my very first thought. That being:

What the hell man? Can I, like, be with my parents now?

But now I know why I wasn’t.

Because Todd Bradley Thomas had stolen my thunder.