Jason Reynolds lives in Portland, OR with his fiance and legion of feline shock troops. When not shoveling loads of congealed cat urine out of a plastic box, he spends time cycling, playing computer games, squandering his precious life essence at a day job, enjoying the company of his woman and worthless, filthy, feline roommates, and trying desperately to overcome a grisly and overpowering fear of success that leaves his artistic ambitions quivering, useless, and sweaty in a methamphetamine-esque parody of failure.

     Often mistaken for a less-ugly Christian Slater, a not-nearly-as-good-looking Johnny Depp, or some kind of Morlock-esque sewer goblin, Jason would desperately love to work for Wizards of the Coast because, sadly, if he indeed does have any kind of superpowers or mutant supernatural ability, they damn sure would have manifested by now.