He was a grossly pretentious fellow.

And, by him, I mean me. Yes, I am the "he" referred to in the first sentence. The name is Greyson Wonderfellow, nice to meet you. And, if you have not already figured it out, I can be a bit pretentious (at times). It is one of my more impressive traits, at least that's what I've heard.

Here are some other words I have heard used to describe me: (very) insightful, (massively) entertaining, (extremely) funny. Bill Scripter, editor-in-chief of the city's top paper The Lakeside Report, once called me "virtuous" in an op-ed he had written (yes I'm aware he shouldn't have been able to write it because of his affiliation, but I guess he couldn't resist).

It took him a few attempts to finally find a word worthy of being used to describe me. I do feel bad for him, as it is extremely hard to find a word worthy of describing myself. But, I digress. Let me explain to you the event that caused his urge to write.

I remember it to be the night of May nineteenth (though it could easily have been the eighteenth or the twentieth, as my love for absinthe tends to muddle the memory). I was the headliner at the Blue Raven, a most exclusive nightclub downtown.

Though I have a multitude of talents, on this night I chose to play the piano for the crowd. I could have sung for them, danced for them, played any number of instruments or given them a comedy act, but it was a piano kind of night.

After two hours of piano perfection, I had tiredly and promptly left the stage amidst a tidal wave of applause. I assume there had not been such a display of acoustic perfection since that slob Beethoven played in Vienna. But, I digress.

Anyway, I was in my dressing room signing autographs for security guards, I thought it only right to do this because they were protecting me from a massive conglomerate of fans outside the room that were trying to get close enough to touch me with their dirty hands, when Mr. Scripter walked in.

"Oh, my my my. Mr. Wonderfellow, my name is William Scripter, editor-in-chief of TLR. Can I talk to you about what you did on the stage? It was astounding."

"Yes, uh sorry what did you say your name was again? Oh wait, Scribner right? Right. Well, thank you for the kind words. Although, if it were me interviewing me, I'm not sure I would have used a word as lowly as astounding, but I digress. Alas, I must be off. Goodnight!"

"Wait! Do you mind if I use this interview in an op-ed I'm planning to write? I haven't actually written anything for the Report in ten years, but you've given me the urge to write. I promise I'll even use a more profound word than astounding. How about, uh, superb?"

"Try again."

"Okay, okay. How about fantastical?"

"Well, that's closer. Continue."

"I'm sorry. I'm just not great with praise. It's not really in my line of work to do that sort of thing. Do you have any suggestions?"

"Virtuous."

"You got it. I will refer to you as virtuous."

"Virtuous! What a great choice. In that case Mr. Scripter, I give you full permission for your article."

And, there you have it. I was once referred to as "virtuous" thanks to a perfect performance at the Blue Raven. Or, was it the Black Raven. Damned absinthe. Now I cannot remember. But, I digress. I am very tired, and need my sleep. Goodbye for now, my fans.