There used to be a guy called Grin around here. Nobody really liked him, even his so-called friends, but some tolerated him because he was very persistent. An ancestor of mine once called him a nerd and Grin thanked him for the privilege.

Anyway, I could use some help finding him. If you need a description or a direction to look, here is what I've got so far:

He is a 2-foot-4 Rumplestiltskin-type with a long grey beard and a red cone hat. Often referred to as 'that fat little imp'. A significant rise in farmers reports of rotund, goblin-boys scampering out of chicken coops with mouthfuls of eggs indicates he is lurking in the countryside. Could possibly be found in the suburbs being walked on a leash by a small family. If you hold him upside down, chocolate will fall out of his pockets. Can be compelled by a lost flute melody. Has a foot fetish. Tricks strangers into falling down wells. Will stand outside with a dead-eyed stare and watch TV through windows of homes. His hero is Saladin. His favorite book is Atlas Shrugged but for the prose, not the politics. Smells like mustard gas. Has the word 'Croatoan' tattooed on his thigh. Got lost in a maze once but was easy to find on account of the volume of his weeping. Considers himself spiritually agnostic.

He's a weird little guy. Let me know if you've seen him. 

Let me tell you a couple or three things about "Grin."  First of all, that stupid moniker he adopted might suggest a happy person, a cheerful guy.  Even a funny man.  Wrong.  What a stone cold prick.  The only thing that makes him laugh is setting elaborate traps for his supposed "friends" to fall into.

Don't believe me?

Well, let me fill you in on a few details.  We all remember Lincoln_Lawyer - of course we do.  Well LL had a writing competition, and one of the Grins decided to launch a full-on attack on it.  You know why?  He knew my ancestor, a Kuku, would get the blame.  Of the several hundred who died during that contest, I'd guess at least a dozen, including an Extremely Rich Capo, died for no other reason than Grin wanted to put a complete and final stop to the Competitive Writing Community.

And you know what?  He succeeded.  There hasn't been a successful competition since.  Everyone is too scared of dying.

Is that something to Grin about?  No, it fucking well isn't.

Need more examples of his poor behaviour?  OK, Lincoln_Lawyer again.  LL was racing to become a Godfather, and as we all know, the uppity ups will only allow this to happen with a certain number of members.  OK, cool.  So Grin promises another Kuku a safe place, a safe space if you will, if the Kuku joins LL.  So he does, and then what?  BLAM!  Kuku gets a death bullet to the skull, and Grin gets another Grin.

Convinced yet?  No?

OK.  Do the names FatherMacklePenny and Tetley mean anything to you?  Well, maybe not.  But they meant nothing to a certain Kuku when Grin told the Kuku that FMP and Tetley had great senses of humour and to send them abrasive, belittling messages to facilitate a humour exchange to "Grin" at.  Sounds fun, huh?  Yeah, well it wasn't.  A lot of anger, terrible anger, was sent towards the Kuku lineage.  FMP got really riled up, terribly so.  The Kuku went to his upper structure for help, and you know what they did?  Shook down Kuku, charged him millions in "tithes" and made him irritate and annoy other pillars of the community.  Poor Tetley, it's said he went into hiding he was so upset.  The Kuku found himself in a terrible spot.  He had to keep earning to pay the tithes - the Grin Upper Structure passed on recordings of an angry FMP and used it as a basis to keep the tithes high.  Awful stuff.  Unable to pay, the Kuku was then set the task of killing at least 20 members of the late Illuminiated's family.  Like entrants to a contest destined to award the prize to a non-participant, Kuku after Kuku died, at least four of them, until the 20 members of Illuminiated family lay in coffins.  One Kuku was reduced to extorting millions off of Illuminiated to pay the FMP tithes.

Is that enough for you?  Well, maybe I should tell you about his role in the Plumbers, but that's maybe for another time.

"Duchess, I once saw the name "Grin-22" poorly graffitied on a stall in the 12th Street Public Toilets. Jub has never known anyone by the name but perhaps the toilets might be a good place to start looking. It's usually where I go when in search of lost objects."

"Though judging by what MrKuku has just related (and what I've recently read in a newspaper) perhaps it's not a good idea to seek out this man. He seems like a nefarious fellow."

"WhereWasGrin?"

"Greeting gentlemen, I have a suggestion"

"We know the Grin bloodline frequents the Detroit public toilets for nefarious reasons. This is fact. It would also appear from what MrKuku tells us that Grin is drawn to MrKuku and often successfully kills Kuku. I also believe the Grin bloodline is rather fond of burning effigies."

"I therefore suggest we convene in aforementioned public toilets and burn an effigy of MrKuku in hopes of drawing out Grin. However, I feel that we may actually need to burn the real MrKuku in order to satisfy Grins demonic urges and draw him back out into the light. Jub I offer you the remains of MrKuku to do with as you wish" 

MrKuku, it sounds like there is a lot of bad blood there. Human blood possibly but we've never confirmed Grin to be one of us, and I have it on good account at least 60% of this community is homo sapien in origin. He speaks English well enough but I've heard him cry in a German accent and it was extremely disconcerting. I still remember the first time I met him. A room-temperature wind howled between the trees that morning. I'd woken up early to pick my kids up from school, where I'd forgotten them the previous day. His yellow teeth sparkled like corn through the mist. I asked, 'Who goes there?'. He responded, 'The product of intercourse between a human man and woman'. I was skeptical. 

These two men seem to believe his whereabouts have something to do with a public toilet. I can't knock their instincts. It sounds precisely like the kind of pervert paradise he would build his nest in. 

Duchess "Grin" was the brains behind the LostBoy killing, and heavily suspected in involvement in the killing of LouisT and The_Big_K

Has no one seen my friend?

He's constantly belching due to gastro-intestinal issues brought on by anxiety. He fought for the Axis in WW2. Once had a three-way with Julius and Ethel Rosenberg. Breathes heavily after taking a drink due to his deviated septum. Wears a hat indoors as if it's part of his look but really he's just balding and ashamed. Considers himself worldly but experiences culture shock ordering falafel. 

I believe I may have saw someone who resembles all of the above, hiding in a trash can next to the 12th Street Public Toilets. 

He appeared to be eating a strange rubbery item that Paul_Finch had discarded into the trash, it was filled with a strange fluid. MrKuku limped out after him also. It is so strange seeing how popular the 12th Street Public Toilets are becoming once again. 

I would not like to make any assumptions of the series of events that led to me witnessing this. 

Was it him, TinyTim? Was he performing underground hip-hop shows under the name Rubberlips? Did he look like he'd just escaped the Dust Bowl? Was he picking apple cores out of bins and swallowing them whole?

I can't be 100% sure but this guy was breakdancing to MC Hammer in a leopard print mankini. Chewing the rubber off discarded pencils from the local school. Looked like the lovechild of MrKuku and the last surviving rodent from Chernobyl. 

Does he sound familiar?

Could be. If you were to walk into a 14th-century Italian monastery, would you describe him as more of a lascivious geriatric monk battling 70 years of sexual repression in the presence of a nubile novice seeking wisdom, the fat, gap-toothed cellarer with stuffed pockets sewn into the inside of his robe full of prunes and almonds, or the wretched, heretical hunchback who scurries quietly around the walls in service of the Anti-Christ? 

Duchess you seem to have a lot of colourful descriptions of your lost friend. This sounds like prime material for the competitive writing competition a few blocks down the road.

Be sure to keep it within the limits of 49-120 words though. The rules are strict.

The sexual repression of a 70 year drought definitely resonates with my impressions of said individual. 

A nose that appears to join to his left ear? Teeth that could chew around corners? 

Does the friend you're looking for have a heart shaped tattoo with Paul_Finch written inside, stamped upon his right buttcheek? 

No no no TinyTim that person you are talking about is rather fond of ferrets and wears bootcut trousers. His laugh sounds like a Arctic turn taking flights and he has a fear of apricots