Back in the hay day, when I was an innocent locksmith cum seamstress, making a living by fashioning seams on all walks of apparel, as well as several shapes of lock, they called me Elroth the Heathen. To this day, I cannot for the life of me understand why, but I have an inkling that it had something to do with my filthy, bestial fetish for infant marsupials. However, as the vernal equinox of 1969 came over us all at the Greenwich branch of Chicken Cottage, I happened to see Adonai’s brow, painted in the stars, and big daddy A himself told me that the true, Scandinavian way of the seamstress was to plaster said seams all over the very creatures I hold dearest. You guessed it. Elroth becomes KS.