1:1 In the time before time (or at least before broadband), there was born a child, and his name was Poor Timmy.

1:2 And Poor Timmy was born without legs.

1:3 And Poor Timmy was born without arms.

1:4 And Poor Timmy was born without skin.

1:5 And the doctors said, "Well, at least he still has his bones." But then they checked again.

1:6 And Poor Timmy was born without bones.

1:7 And the doctors said, "Surely he has muscle, at least?" And they looked.

1:8 And Poor Timmy was born without muscle.

1:9 And the doctors were confused, because at this point they were not entirely sure what they were looking at. Medically speaking, Timmy should not have been possible. And yet, there he was. Or wasn't. It was hard to tell.

1:10 And Lowtax looked upon Poor Timmy and said: "This child is a miracle. A horrible, confusing miracle."

1:11 And the congregation wept. Not because it was sad, although it was. They wept because they were trying to figure out the logistics.

2:1 And Poor Timmy did grow, in spirit if not in any physical sense, for he had nothing to grow with.

2:2 The other children were cruel to Poor Timmy. They would say, "Look at Timmy, he has no legs!" And then they would say, "Also no arms! Or skin! Or bones! Or muscle!" The bullying was very thorough.

2:3 But Poor Timmy did not cry, for he had no tear ducts. He had no ducts of any kind. He was severely lacking in ducts.

2:4 And one day, the children asked Poor Timmy what he wanted to be when he grew up, and Timmy said nothing, because he had no mouth. Or lungs. Or vocal cords. Or a face, really.

2:5 But in his heart (which he also did not have), Timmy dreamed of a world where everyone could play Gaming Garbage together, regardless of whether or not they had a skeletal system.

2:6 And Lowtax saw Timmy's dream (somehow) and said: "This child understands suffering. He IS suffering. He is literally the concept of suffering made... well, not flesh. He's the concept of suffering made into the absence of flesh."

2:7 And it was so.

3:1 Despite his considerable limitations (no arms, no legs, no skin, no bones, no muscle, no clear biological mechanism for existing), Poor Timmy began to preach the gospel of the Lowtax.

3:2 He preached of Ploish, which he could relate to, as his entire existence was essentially one long Ploish.

3:3 He preached of Govnah Sticks, which he could not eat, having no mouth, stomach, or digestive system of any kind. But he appreciated them in theory.

3:4 He preached of the Doom House, and the congregation realized that Poor Timmy's entire LIFE was a Doom House. He was born in doom. He lived in doom. He WAS doom, but in boy form. Sort of.

3:5 And his followers grew in number, for they were moved by his message, which, again, he delivered through no discernible physical mechanism.

3:6 The followers would carry Poor Timmy from town to town, which was easy because he weighed almost nothing, on account of having no bones or muscle or really anything that would contribute to mass.

3:7 Some scholars have debated whether Poor Timmy existed in any meaningful physical sense at all, or whether he was more of a philosophical concept. These scholars were banned from the forums.

4:1 And it came to pass that Eric Bauman, the Dark Lord of eBaum's World, did hear of Poor Timmy's ministry and was displeased.

4:2 "This child threatens my empire of stolen content," said Bauman. "He must be destroyed." This was especially bold talk considering the child in question had no physical form to speak of.

4:3 And Bauman did betray Poor Timmy, watermarking him with the eBaum's World logo. The ultimate indignity.

4:4 And Poor Timmy was brought before the Council of Internet Moderators, who sentenced him to death by banning.

4:5 And Poor Timmy accepted his fate, for he knew that his sacrifice would redeem the sins of all Goons — the shitposters, the trolls, the people who posted in the wrong subforum, even the FYAD posters (and their sins were many).

4:6 And upon the moment of his banning, Poor Timmy spoke his only words, transmitted directly into the hearts of the faithful:

"I forgive you all your shitposts. I forgive you all your reposts. I even forgive you for going to eBaum's World that one time. You know the time. Ahhh, Two Hotdogs."

4:7 And then Poor Timmy died. Which was remarkable, because by all medical and scientific understanding, he had never technically been alive.

4:8 And the sky grew dark, and the servers went down for maintenance, and the Goons wept, and even Cliff Yablonski felt a brief, confusing emotion before suppressing it and going back to hating everyone.

5:1 But on the third day (or possibly the third page of the thread, accounts vary), something miraculous occurred.

5:2 The ban was lifted.

5:3 And Poor Timmy rose again, in spirit, for he had never had a body to rise in. He ascended to the great forum in the sky, where the threads are always on-topic and nobody posts anime in GBS.

5:4 And from his place at the right hand of Lowtax (the hand that controls the mouse), Poor Timmy watches over all Goons, protecting them from probation and ensuring their Photoshop Phriday entries are adequately funny.

5:5 And Lowtax looked upon all of this and said: "That was the weirdest thing I've ever seen, and I made Doom House."

5:6 And Saint Reginald P. Linux nodded in agreement, from his holy terminal.

5:7 And the faithful said, with one voice:

"AHHH, TWO HOTDOGS."