This bio was written for a small publishing company out of Portland called Totally Okay. They print small runs of hand-made art books, and do a whiz-bang job. They're an atypical publishing company subsisting on talent, sweat, and hope. We figured that an atypical bio was in order.
Totally Okay was birthed from the seething microbes of a beached and rotting sperm whale. Its first breaths were that of rancid blubber and sea-salted air. As it festered in the flotsam and jetsam of the shore, it divided exponentially until it became a mercurial organism, able to make the boreal crawl up through the broken-syringe and prophylactic-peppered sand. Beneath the boardwalk, Totally Okay latched onto a biafra-bellied mutt, shot in the neck and left to die. The dog's final gargled whimpers echoed across the wind-carved dunes, attracting the attention of two teen lovers. Upon finding the blood-soaked animal, the youths rushed the dog to the vet in a shit-heap Trans Am, not wanting to believe the canine was already dead. During the car ride, Totally Okay crept from the mongrel's midsection to an open sore on the girl's bruised, milky hip, where it slipped into her bloodstream. It continues to thrive inside of her today, undetected, and is the cause of numerous outbreaks and tidal-wave menses.