Our story opens today high atop New York city, in the luxurious penthouse of perhaps the most famous soldier of fortune the world has ever known...

Me. How do you do? Excuse the position. Just practicing my yoga. Well, now that you're here, we may as well get to know each other.

My name is Peabody. I suppose you know yours. I guess you're wondering about this alt. It belongs to Sherman—he's my boy.

Whistles, calling for Sherman. Here, Sherman! Here, boy! Shake hands! Shakes hands with Sherman. Say hello.

Hello!

Smart as a whip, isn't he? Now, about this amusing little alt.

This story really starts with me, naturally. As a youth, I was just an average genius—the "Puppy Prodigy" they called me. Got my degree at Harvard when I was three. Wagna Cum Laude, of course. Then a brief period in the Foreign Service. I speak eight languages fluently—all at once, that is—, including English. Then a few research projects for the government. And I dabbled in the stock market, where I was known as the "Wolf of Wall Street."

But somehow I felt that something was missing in my life. So, I made up my mind to get a boy. I looked high and low, but couldn't find one that met my high standards. Then, one day, while watching some boys have their innocent play, I spotted Sherman. My heart went out to him—I always pulling for the underboy. I dismissed the others, and Sherman followed me home.

He wasn't at all what I was looking for. Oh, he looked at me with those big brown eyes, but I was firm; I took him home.

ＨＡＲＤＲＯＣＫ ＯＲＰＨＡＮ ＨＯＭＥ

/This/ is where you live?

Yup. That's been home sweet home all my life.

"Where have you been you little brat?" The brute home keeper asked.

Ju-just visiting!

"Get in here!"

One moment, sir!

"And what do you want, mutt?"

The name, sir, is Peabody. And I intend to adopt this boy!

Naturally, the newspapers made a big thing of it. I had to submit references. So, I got some old friends to write letters. Then, of course, I was investigated thoroughly; my background was unimpeachable. Still...

ＣＯＵＲＴ

"But he's not a fit person to bring up a boy! In fact, he's not even a person at all!" The home keeper said.

Your honor, I consider that an excellent recommendation. (And I finally got Sherman.)

"This court can see no reason why if a boy can have a dog..." the judge said, as he slammed his gavel down. "... A dog can't have a boy."

Daddy! Cameramen from news snap pictures of Sherman hugging Mr. Peabody.

Sherman, let's get one thing clear. I will never submit to being addressed by that ridiculous name. You will call me... Mr. Peabody. Or, when speaking informally, simply... Peabody.

Yes, Mr. Peabody!

So, that was that. But I soon found it spec to impossible to raise a boy in an apartment. They need running room. So, I built this for Sherman's birthday.

Happy birthday, Sherman.

Gee, thanks, Mr. Peabody! But what is it?

Well, actually, it's an alternate account—I call it an alt. We just change to it, play some games, make humorous jokes, and there we are.