The doctor who delivered Stephen Carter ran away with the nurse to an Eastern Bloc country a week later. The country club where Stephen was named and blessed was demolished to make room for the Provo Towne Centre. And finally, the hospital he was born in came a crashing down even as Stephen covered the event for a newspaper. In other words, most traces of Stephen’s nativity have been obliterated. The only other two witnesses to the event would probably be deemed inadmissible in a court of law. To make up for this lack of proof of his existence, Stephen has been opining in writing with a frequency his “mother” would call “cute.” Stephen developed a callous on his knuckles in Toronto, Ontario, while walking around in a pair of Florsheims, a vaguely white shirt, and a polyester tie. Then, after his best two years, Stephen decided to have ten even better years. So he married his high school sweetheart, Noelle, had two children with her, and attended Utah Valley State College where he worked with Gene England developing the Mormon Studies program. After that he attended the University of Alaska Fairbanks with his wife where they both received an MFA in creative writing, and a Ph.D. in integrated studies. Stephen focused his dissertation on the writings of first-year teachers in rural Alaska, and Noelle on interpreting children’s perceptions of school through Captain Underpants books. Stephen is extremely jealous. The Carter family now lives in a small Wyoming town whose name sounds like the special ingredient in Sprite. Stephen spends most of his days sitting in his pajamas editing Sunstone and communing with the cats via flying rubber bands.
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