How the SwampMonster Came to Be Conceived in North Beach: the Email of the Day

"The mother was the hopelessly-lonely-too-young-shouldn’t-already-be-a-cat-lady turned dribbley scuzzball dancing with one shoe by herself, and the father was the balding 38 year old washed up dot-com-er, complete with favorite ketchup and sorrow stained suit, from down the block. A match so made in heaven, I hear it didn’t even take a rufie-colada."