Our History

Over one hundred and thirty one years ago there was a child by the name of Henry Wellman, a true paragon of human resilience, who, by some cruel twist of fate, entered the world without feet to call his own. Exiled to a destitute ghost town on the west coast, he was taken in by his grandfather, a wizened haberdasher who knew more about the curvature of a bowler hat than the contours of a human soul. 

Yet, it was in this desolate place that Henry's prodigious intellect took root, blossoming like the hardiest desert flower. With the cunning of an alchemist, he forged for himself a pair of legs from the detritus that littered the town, cobbling together scrap metals and curious mineral compounds with an artistry that defied both logic and convention. The locals, their gazes once tinged with pity, now turned in awe as the indomitable Henry set to work, restoring their ramshackle abodes and breathing life into the dying town with the skill of a master craftsman and the heart of a true pioneer.

With the precision of an architect and the fervor of a modern-day Prometheus, Henry erected a grand totem in the town square, a monument that seemed to defy the very laws of nature. This unassuming spire, an amalgamation of wood and metal, harnessed the capricious energy of the elements, transforming the sun's rays, the wind's whispers, and the earth's quivers into a font of power that coursed through the town's veins. 

Like a terrestrial deity, the totem bestowed its bounty upon the city, electrifying the streets and igniting the spirit of enterprise. As the once-dilapidated settlement surged back to life, so too did Henry's fortunes. The wealth that flowed into his coffers was as boundless as the energy he had so ingeniously captured, a testament to the ingenuity of one man and the transformative power of human perseverance.

Henry, now a millionaire in his own right, cast his gaze upon a cursed island, a forsaken bastion of refuse and despair. This wretched atoll, once a verdant paradise, had been reduced to a vile trash deposit, its once-pristine shores choked with the detritus of a civilization that had turned its back on its own Eden. But in the heart of this squalid wreckage, Henry saw opportunity – the chance to reclaim a lost paradise and breathe life into a land forgotten by time. With the same tenacious spirit that had transformed the dusty town from whence he came, Henry set about creating a sanctuary upon the island, a haven for those who sought solace in the arms of nature.

 Amidst the mounds of garbage, he devised a system for recycling the biological waste, forging a sustainable bounty of nourishment for the island natives, who, until then, had known only hunger and want. And so, with each passing day, the island began to bloom anew, a testament to the indomitable will of one man who dared to dream, and in doing so, transformed the world around him.

In the midst of the island's burgeoning renaissance, Henry, ever the visionary, set his sights on a culinary endeavor unlike any the world had ever seen. With an audacious blend of whimsy and pragmatism, he christened his new establishment "Homegrown Pie," a place where the most humble and unlikely of ingredients would unite to create a veritable symphony of flavor. Drawing upon the natural chemicals, biodegradable refuse, and the richest of composts, Henry fashioned pies that defied all expectations, melding the seemingly disparate elements into a harmony of taste and texture that was nothing short of revelatory. 

The island natives, once beleaguered by hardship and famine, were the first to sample these curious confections, and as word of their delectable delights spread, eager patrons from the mainland flocked to Homegrown Pie, drawn by the tantalizing whispers of an epicurean experience beyond their wildest imaginings. And so it was that Henry's latest venture, born of ingenuity and nurtured by the indomitable spirit of human resilience, became a beacon of hope and a testament to the boundless power of reinvention.

In the annals of Henry's culinary triumphs, there is one dish that stands above all others, a creation so unique and otherworldly that it captured the imagination of gourmands the world over. This masterpiece, dubbed "The Baked Bean Donut," was a feat of gastronomic engineering, an improbable marriage of the humble legume and the deep-fried confection that would forever change the face of cuisine. Served alongside a succulent sausage and a bowl of rich, unctuous liver, the triumvirate of flavors danced upon the tongue, a symphony of sensations that left the diner in rapturous delight. But the true genius of Henry's creation lay in its origins – for every component of this extraordinary meal was fashioned from recycled food, a testament to his unparalleled skill and vision.

As word of "The Baked Bean Donut" spread, excitement rippled across the globe, with epicures and gastronomes alike clamoring for a taste of this singular sensation. And so, Henry's humble island eatery became a beacon for those who dared to explore the outer reaches of the culinary cosmos, drawn by the irresistible allure of a dish that defied all logic and convention – a dish that would forever etch the name of Mr Wellman in the annals of history... or so one would suspect.

Lurking in the shadows of Henry's island empire, there dwelt two brothers, Jacob and Thurston Longfellow. These men were as ancient and inscrutable as the land from which they sprang. White-bearded and wizened, these elderly crocodile farmers tended to their fearsome wards with a skill and cunning born of a lifetime's devotion. Yet, within their gnarled hearts stirred a darker purpose, for the brothers were practitioners of a most arcane art – the crossbreeding of disparate species, a twisted alchemy that spawned hybrid beasts of nightmarish proportions. These chimeric monstrosities were paraded before the gaping masses, their grotesque forms drawing both horror and fascination in equal measure, and the brothers reaped a tidy profit from the gory spectacle, harvesting the flesh of their unnatural creations for the insatiable appetites of the island's denizens. 

Nestled within the heart of their crocodile-riddled domain, the brothers operated a slop shack, a ramshackle edifice that bore witness to their culinary crimes. They viewed Henry's burgeoning restaurant with suspicion and enmity, for they saw in its success the seeds of their own ruin. And so, the Longfellows plotted and schemed, determined to bring low the upstart eatery that threatened their dominion, their gnarled hands and twisted minds bent on one singular purpose – the undoing of Henry and his triumphant island enterprise.

 Jacob and Thurston Longfellow's crusade against the indomitable Henry Wellman led to a nefarious alliance with a force of malicious intent, whose name struck fear in the hearts of even the most hardened souls – RJ Harrison. A gun for hire with an ex-military past, Harrison was a man of contradictions, a reclusive figure who had spent the greater part of his life hidden in the shadows, commanding an army of loyal followers with his dark and occult rhetoric. RJ believed that humanity's true zenith lay in the prehistoric past, in a time when men were governed by their primal instincts, unencumbered by the shackles of morality. And yet, he was no Luddite; in fact, he embraced modern innovation with a fervor that bordered on the fanatical.

In the Longfellow brothers, Harrison saw an opportunity to further his own twisted goals – to amass an army of hybrid beasts with a natural proclivity for hunting, the perfect weapon in his relentless quest for power. As RJ and his minions prepared to take on Henry and his burgeoning island paradise, another figure, Mr. Wellman, worked tirelessly behind the scenes, laboring to build an infrastructure that would support the growing community. Little did he know that his efforts would soon be tested by the machinations of a dangerous enemy, one who sought to plunge the island into chaos and reclaim the savage glory of a bygone age.

RJ Harrison and his merciless army fell upon the island like a plague of locusts, tearing through the fruits of Mr. Wellman's labor with a ferocity that knew no bounds. The infrastructure, once a symbol of progress and hope, lay in ruins, its shattered remnants cast into the ever-expanding mire of garbage and saltwater, a testament to the futility of man's reach for the stars. In the smoldering ashes of Homegrown Pie's original destination, the patrons who had once reveled in the delights of Henry's culinary genius now cowered, trembling at the wrath of Harrison and his monstrous minions. 

The very mention of Mr. Wellman or his noble efforts was a death sentence, a whispered word that would see families torn asunder by the gnashing teeth of the hybrid beasts that prowled the night. And as the darkness swallowed the island whole, the once-indomitable Henry vanished without a trace, his legacy consigned to the shadows and the whispered memories of those who had dared to dream of a better world.

No sooner had the destruction of the island village been wrought than RJ Harrison, his nefarious mission accomplished, disappeared with his unholy army and monstrous beasts, leaving naught but devastation in his wake. The Longfellow brothers, sensing opportunity in the ashes of tragedy, set about rebuilding Wellman's fallen eatery, appropriating his menu and its bounty of delights, with the aid of their own hybrid animals and plants. But as the days turned to weeks and the weeks to months, the brothers' minds grew twisted and dark, their souls poisoned by the very power they wielded. Compelled by a madness born of their own hubris, they began to mix their bloodline with the creatures they had spawned, seeking solace and absolution for their sins in the company of their unnatural kin.

The island and its denizens, once so full of hope, languished in the shadows of this perverse new world, a paradise lost to the whims of madmen. To lift the spirits of the beleaguered natives, the Longfellows conceived a grand scheme: a food-themed amusement park that would sprawl across the island like a many-tentacled beast. And though their venture met with great success, the brothers found themselves unable to maintain the very island they had sought to dominate. For in their pursuit of power, they had lost sight of the true meaning of progress, and in doing so, had sown the seeds of their own downfall.

The Longfellows, now mere shadows of their former selves, sought refuge in the most unlikely of places in the twilight of their days – the giant nest of their own granddaughter, perched high upon the island's tallest mountain peak. Here, they found solace in their isolation, their bodies withering away until only their suits and bones remained, a haunting testament to their fall from grace. Eventually discovered by the island's inhabitants, their skeletal remains were put on display at the very crocodile slop shack where their twisted journey had begun, a chilling reminder of the dangers of unchecked ambition.

In the wake of the Longfellows' demise, the rights to Homegrown Pie found their way back into the hands of Henry Wellman's relatives, who sought to revive the eatery's once-stellar reputation. Determined to adapt to the changing times, they transformed the storied menu into a fast food model, rechristening the enterprise "Homeslice Burgers." And so it was that from the ashes of Henry's lost dream, a new chapter was born, a testament to the enduring spirit of innovation and the power of redemption in the face of adversity. The legacy of Homegrown Pie lives on, and the rest, as they say, is history.