Mr. Daume was a young boy when he was found in Paddington Station by monks traveling to New Skeet.  Adopted into their ritualistic lifestyle, he learned vocal percussion and Platonic theory.  “Daume” is actually a combination of “dow,” and “mey,” two harmonic patterns he used in his vocals.  After a dozen years under the monks’ tutelage, Daume forsook the monastic life when he entered a bread shop while on holiday in Nice. 

Like all teens, Daume made sudden, rash decisions to define his personality.  He adopted the name “Selden,” Greek for Joe Cool.  Most rashly, he moved to America, where he got his first job as a big chicken mascot outside a KFC.  Soon, they let him make biscuits.

Selden saved his biscuit dough, and bought a used Raleigh, which he pedaled until it broke on the continental divide.  With neither a firm grasp of his identity, nor any finances, he walked into the forest, where he survived by throwing rocks at rabbits and befriending a mule.  Dressed in skins, bearded, untamed, and wearing his trademark camouflage cap, he wandered howling his monastic songs.  One day in Idaho, he met Bill Buckner.  Kindred spirits, they built a cabin and exchanged philosophy and tattooed “1918” on the mule.  Selden became unnerved by Buckner’s repeated motions toward something between his legs, so he walked north, into Montana.

Though still thoroughly unkempt, Selden has bathed since his journey.  His biscuit making experience has paid off handsomely,
but he is still finding a way to make a living at his true love, yodeling in a chicken suit.
The mule, sadly, passed on early last November.