Boots McKynleigh lived in the brown world of the American Frontier, gritty and full of dust. He was a rough man. A burly man. A man's man. A manly man. He had three wives: Bettye, Rosalind and Chin Li.
Boots McKynleigh was the stuff legends were made of. And they made plenty. Boots was twenty feet tall and as wide as three barrels. Boots could shoot the eye out of a titmouse from a mile away. He had eyes like a schizophrenic hawk. Boots had three penises - one for each of his wives. They could all get on and ride at once. Boots would eat a coffee can of nails for breakfast every morning.
But what people didn't realize is that Boots had a secret life. He wasn't really a rough & tough frontier cowboy. He was a time traveler and he had traveled back in time so he could get some peace and quiet in which to write his beloved poetry.
It's true, I kid you not. Boots McKynleigh loved to write poetry. Most of the poems were about his homoerotic feelings towards various historical personages, but he wrote a lot of other stuff too, stuff you wouldn't believe if I told you. Alien erotica, far-futuristic historical romance. Villanelles about his time in ancient Sumatra and Lemuria. Debunkings of Nixon-Reagan-Bush-Clinton-Bush era assumptions. Inventories of the Vatican. Disgusting confessions from his thousands of other personalities.
Yes, the legends they told about Boots McKynleigh were nothing compared to the truth of his existence. It is just too bad that no one ever learned his real name or his whole story. A team of robot literature Nazis are working even now to track down his entire catalogue of works and to piece together the details of his life. They've been working for 80 years and they are still only on Chapter One of his biography.