In the beginning there was one. No name. Just one. When there is only one, a name is of no importance. He stood. He laid. He eventual found a knife. He would go days, weeks, and months holding his knife firmly (as if it was taped to his hand) and just stare at people. Intimidation is the past-time of the singular.
People talked. They would pass by and wonder. Understanding of the loner with the knife was limited. Some laughed. Big mistake. Most went about their days and never knew his purpose or meaning. They soon found out.
Look Who Came Swinging Into Town
It was months ago now, but still fresh in his mind. Hanging over there in "his" jungle like corner. An oasis of performance. A regular tropical skeeze sector. Later "he" moved inward. No big deal everyone thought. Most people cared not for the new. "He" was quiet. Kept to himself. Didn't wield a knife.
"His" presence alone destroyed the singularity of his existence! Something must be done! He scratched his cap with his trusty knife and remembered a line from his favorite movie...