[See also: Half-Squatch]

 

 

Name: Sean “Wee Bear” Taylor

Eyes: Brown, and mostly functional with assistance

Hair: Brown… wait. Do you mean my head or my back?

Height: Got no reason (like other "Short People")

Weight: Ahem. This sums it up for me.

 

Lou Costello: Right now I'm 40 pounds overweight, but I'm trying to get down to my regular weight.

Bud Abbott: What's your regular weight?

Lou Costello: Twenty pounds overweight.

 

Combat: 12 (I'm a lover, not a fighter)

Agility: 10 (I can get out of bed without breaking bones, well, most mornings)

Accuracy: 16 (particularly when armed with a guitar pick)

Strength: 17 (like a Hobbit-sized Hulk)

Stamina: 12 (can make it through a gig without dying)

Style: 3 (hopelessly out of)

 

Perception: 10 (+7 modifier with glasses)

Awareness: 10 (in general) 20 (around cute females)

Willpower: 15 (unless we're talking about avoiding Starbucks)

Presence: 18 (+3 modifier when playing bass)

Intelligence: 18 (smarter than the average bear)

Cunning: 13 (I convinced you to read this garbage, didn't I?)

 

Proficiencies: Bass, beard growth, acoustic and electric guitars, flirting, keyboards, double entendres, harmonica, collecting comic books, air guitar, baiting Hannah, air drums, Shut Up Kenny, air keyboards, vocalizing

 

History: I grew up on 45s. Okay, maybe not actually on them, but with them. Even being as short as I am, I couldn’t really live on one—maybe a few glued together though. (Note to self: Must do experiment to test this hypothesis.) When I was really, really young (so much younger than today), I got a bunch of hand-me-down 45s from my uncle Rod, and that’s when I learned to appreciate good music—and how to play air guitar. Then I became a triple threat and mastered air drums and air keyboards. 

 

When I was in high school I got a sunburst copy of a Les Paul—and promptly ignored it. Why learn the real thing when I was already a master of the air version? But, I did learn how to “play bass” on it since I was way too lazy to bother with full chords. A few years later, when I moved to Atlanta from the booming metropolis of Swainsboro, Ga., I promptly lied to some guys forming a band that I was a passable bass player, having only played the real thing once. Luckily, we all sucked equally, so it worked out. But, like peasants and newts, we got better. A lot better. 

 

I figured I must be on the right path when the high school scheduling computer kicked me out of Latin and put me in guitar lab. (And let’s be honest, since guitar isn’t a dead language, so I owe everything to a computer who knew what was best for me.)

 

I spent quite a few years playing in a few bands, touring the southeast and playing a few key music festivals, then had to take some time off for good behavior. (And if you believe that, I’d love to “borrow” your violin bass too.) As the saying goes, “It’s the circle of life”—no, I didn’t give birth to a baby lion—but I did eventually I rejoin the band lifestyle and am embarking on a magical quest with my current party to defeat the dragon and take his gol—sorry, embarking on a musical quest with The Bigger Issues! to defeat boredom and fill the world with awesome tunes!