As Promised, I Give You Muffin Man

In my first post on this blog I mentioned introducing you to my best friend, Muffin Man. I said I'd either tell about him or let him tell about himself, what follows is his story, in his own words. I will follow this post with a more formal introduction to myself, Ajax. Meet Muffin Man...

It all started as a child growing up in the United States. I lived a somewhat idyllic childhood in my cozy corner of beach front property we call the great land of California. My mother had come across Europe from Finland via UPS and a straw in 1980 to escape the great chocolate famine that was sweeping throughout Scandinavia at the time. Her dream was to go to America, but she only had enough money to ship herself to the UK, and there she stayed for a year as she slowly but surely accumulated the funds to secure passage to the New World.
Like most Finns, my mother had grown up with a love for baking. Over time her baking had earned her the praise of all whose palettes were graced with her creations. People often referred to her baking as, "magic", and eventually she lovingly became known as Julia Houdini, a nickname that was in reference to her great skill in cooking and baking that resembled that of Julia Child, and the fact that she would often bake while hanging upside down and secured in a straight jacket, hence the Houdini part of her nickname.
During her year in England she became privy to that icon of baked British goods, the scone. She fell in love instantly and made it a goal to master the art of the scone and add it to her vast, and multi cultural baking repertoire. By the time she had fully mastered the scone, the time came to leave the UK for the U.S. and begin the journey toward the american dream.
The years passed, I was born, turned two, then five, then 17, and so on. On the night of my 18th birthday, my life changed forever. My mother, as she did on every birthday, made a veritable United Nations of scones for my birthday guests and I. There were blueberry, chocolate, gooseberry, bacon, and every other possible kind of scone your mind can conjure up. The guests were in heaven, but I had grown weary of scones. I was in a bad mood because I had been unceremoniously dumped by my girlfriend, who also happened to be the girl of my dreams. I was not only wearing my heart and emotions on my sleeve, but on my entire body as well. You could say I was in an ill fitting powder blue tuxedo of emotion. As I sat at the center of the table, alone with everybody, my mother took notice of my sad countenance and tried to remedy it by pushing a chocolate scone my way which did nothing other then open the flood gates of my rage. "I'm not a scone man!", I yelled and got up in a huff and ran for the exit. When I got the exit I quickly turned to face my friends and family, yelled at the top of my lungs, "I'M. A. MUFFIN MMMAAAAAAANNNNN!!!", and ran off into the cold winter night.
I ran for what seemed like hours, but due to my lack of stamina when it came to running, and the stitch I was getting in my side, it turned out to only be three and a half minutes. The night wore on, and the words I yelled kept running though my head. "I'm a muffin man. I'm a muffin man. I. Am. A. Muffin. Man.". I thought it was just a statement of my preference for muffins over scones, but I couldn't have been more wrong. As I walked the seemingly empty streets of San Francisco, wondering not only about the meaning behind, "I am a Muffin Man", but how I wound up in San Francisco in the first place, I eventually came across a lone stranger in a finely tailored suit and red converse shoes sitting at a bus stop eating a muffin. I stood there just starring at him. He returned my gaze with a disarming smile, and in a cockney accent worthy of a Guy Ritchie movie he said, "'Allo, Muffin Man". I stood in shocked silence, and he gestured for me to come and sit next to him. I robotically moved to sit down at the bench, and when I took my place next to him he proceeded to enlighten me on the path of destiny I had just set foot on.
He told me that I was to be a symbol of truth, of humor, of the ridiculous, of charming rogues everywhere, and that I was to develop my skills, talents, and Australian accent, and that I was to do all of this for the greater good. He told me that I wouldn't know exactly where or when, but my path would cross with that of a man named Ajax, and together we would form a dynamic duo that would rival the Wonder Twins and cause the world to change forever. He told me all of this, and more, those many moons ago, and since that night I've spent a substantial amount of time looking for him and trying to figure out his identity. After years of searching and scouring the globe I finally discovered, to my extreme confusion, the identity of the finely dressed man in the red kicks. The mystery man was me, nine years into the future.
Don't ask me how this happened, or how it is possible, because I don't know. My best guess is that it has something to do with the island I was stranded on with thirty other people, and the dangerous natives we came across during our time there when I was 24. There was a lot of unexplained activity going on, and lots of talk about gigawatts and flux capacitors and the unstable power they held. But my time on the island is of no concern to you. The only thing you need to know is...I am Muffin Man.