overton wooldridge sprouted from a small burg spliced between rows of wheat in the middle of the kansas prairie. denizens of that village remember him as a happy but quiet child who preferred the companionship of the ever-blowing wind to that of his peers.
little is known of overton's mother, other than she suddenly and somewhat suspiciously departed—whether merely from the kansas soil or from this mortal coil is unclear—within days of his birth. her dissapearance coincided both with the departure of a transient tent revival preacher (whose ten-month tenure was certainly suspect) and with a freshly turned patch of soil behind the family's barn. when asked the whereabouts of his wife, his father invariably replied, "the godless go with god." eventually, people stopped asking.
his father soon wed a homely but well endowed widow recently arrived from france. upon her enlightenment regarding little overton's less than definite paternity, she promptly shipped him off to a boarding school in lyon for refining. after a mishap in smoking etiquette class, he slipped away from the charred ruins (and the town constable), most likely in the company of a gypsy circus troupe. here, his trail turns cold.
he resurfaced years later in berlin with a host of new talents, including adept musicianship, a deep and intimate understanding of feline behavior, and the ability to juggle. he continued to travel about europe, surviving by wit and by will, until he made the aquaintance of the wife of a wealthy munich merchant. in return for his intimate attentions, she gave him a life of ease and comfort.
unfortunately, it was all rather shortlived, as her husband soon turned up dead, hanging by his neck from an accordion strap. overton fled the suspicious eyes of the munich citizenry and the eager bayonettes of local militia. eventually, his flight took him back across the atlantic to the nameless security of the midwest plains. he remains wary of undue attention, but from time to time his desire to perform overwhelms him. lucky us.