What's Your Background?

Discussion in 'Locker Room' started by Senhor Perfect, Aug 28, 2013.

  1. Not where you live necessarily, but where your family is from.

    Both of my parents' families are Portuguese.
  2. Both of my parents are from a town right next to the border of Mexico.
  3. I'm half French half Algerian.
  4. Zidane? :shock:

  5. :umad:
  6. Mainly Scottish but my mum's side comes from Ireland.
  7. My whole family is from the Philippines. That's it, really. If I am related to any other cultures, I haven't been told nor have I seen anyone in my family with other cultures in them. Such a plain jane. :downer:
  8. My mother once said we had Irish ancestry somewhere in our family. Guess it's cool to wonder if we might have had a family Leprechaun running around way back when. The name Lockard has Scottish origins but that doesn't really mean anything.
  9. Lockard is of Scottish origin?!?!?!?!? Join the sWo BROTHER!
  10. Maltese.
    • Like Like x 2
  11. I thought you were a coon? Was expecting the trash can but :okay:
  12. Shit read thread wrong.

    My grandmother on my mom's side of the family is from Mexico.
    My grandfather on my mom's side of the family is from Texas.

    My grandmother on my dad's side of the family is from Israel.
    My grandfather on my dad's side of the family is from Alabama.

    Basically both my grandmothers are not from America, and they married rednecks. Difference is, one grandfather was black, the other was white.
  13. So you're a black/white/mexican/jew?
    Show Spoiler
  14. My parents were wealthy; the wealthiest around. "Here comes that rich kid" I'd hear whispered as I scuttled past the dumpsters. I tried my hardest to fit in, but no matter what I tried they only ever saw me as the Coon that lived in the fancy trees. "You shouldn't be mixing with those city rats," my Dad would always say, "you have no idea what filthy diseases they can carry. They give us vermin a bad name." But I didn't care about diseases or public image or those filthy good for nothing humans, I wanted a friend.

    One day while I was on my way to Sneaking class, I met an odd looking Animal. I assumed he was a Coon because he was rifling through the trash, like I've seen many city-Coons do before. The only other animal I'd ever seen going through the trash were humans. Rat-humans, I called them. But this animal was different. I approached it and must have startled him because suddenly he was staring at me with the blackest, thickest and roundest eyes I'd ever seen.

    I later found out he was a cat. I'd seen him a few more times after that and he seemed slightly less frightened and angry of me, as was I of him. We soon became close friends. One day, while we were walking, I'd realised that I hadn't even known his name. "I don't have a name," he said, with a faint curiosity, "all I ever get called is scoundral and stray."

    "I know, I'll call you Coon!".
    "Coon? But you're the coon."
    "Exactly, then we can be the same!"

    From that day on I called him Coon, whether he enjoyed it or not. He didn't understand the concept of having a name and felt like it made him a slave, but he grew to it. I even managed to engrave a collar for him with his name on it.

    One day, me and Coon were meant to go down to the pond and try and catch some fish. He loved fish, especially fish he'd caught himself.
    I was waiting at our meeting spot when I saw her. I saw a woman, maybe 26 with long brown hair picking up Coon.
    "Aww hello there little fella, what's your name? Oh, your collar says Coon. Welcome to the family Coon!" And Coon was gone. My only friend, vanished to the thieving woman with long brown hair.
    I waited outside the house. Waiting for her to free him, but she never did. I never saw from Coon again. I ran.

    I ran until my legs hurt. I cried and ran and couldn't stop thinking about my only friend, taken.
    After a few days of solitude, I decided to head home. My parents would surely be worried sick about me. But they weren't, because in my absence, they had went looking for me. My father suggested they look through the local dumps, assuming I'd made friends with dumpster-rats as I'd always protested to his hatred for them. While my parents were searching through a car in the dump-yard, they were hoisted by a magnetic crane and dropped into a container.

    In nothing but a trash-can, I was alone. I am alone.
    • Like Like x 4
  15. That was gold :lol1:
  16. All my mother's side is of Polish decent and all of my father's side is of Irish decent.
  17. Oh, and on my grandfather's side of the family, his mother is Irish from what I know of :otunga:
    • Like Like x 1
  18. Mams mam is scottish. Dunno bout rest, too much drink,
  19. Mams mam is scottish. Dunno bout rest, too much drink,
  20. Just English and Welsh for me.
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