The orphanage's records indicate that Peter was an intelligent, but unruly child. He was disciplined for a variety of minor offenses. In 1926, he was thrown out of the orphanage for a series of dirty limericks about the alleged exploits of the nuns. At this point, his formal education ended. Johnson spent the next two years of his life at New York City Orphanage BF742. He then got a job in a construction company laying bricks.
It was apparently on this job that Johnson wrote his first poem since the dirty limericks. Josef Antonoli says that Johnson recited the following poem to him "sometime in the spring of 1928:"
Flowers are nice,
They don't smell like rice.
They look very sweet,
So don't smoosh them with your feet.
"That is the stupidest thing that I have ever heard," Antonoli told Johnson. Thus inspired, Johnson wrote dozens of poems before he was fired in 1932. At this point, he started writing poetry full time.
In 1933, Johnson sent a group of poems to The Saturday Evening Post under the pen name Reverend Xmos. Like every other magazine and publishing company that he submitted his poems to, The Saturday Evening Post rejected them.
In 1935 the following ad appeared in The New York Times:
Limited Edition! Poems from the Everyday A leather-bound volume of inspirational and moving poetry by the world renowned Honorable Dr. Prof. Sir Lord Rev. Xmos, ABC, XYZ PhD ScD DDS MD BS BA MA MS MBA etcetera. For a copy, send five dollars to P.O. Box 1369.
Police records include several complaints from people who answered the ad and received only six pages of poems, which were, to say the least, not inspirational. An example:
Roses are red,
Pine trees are green.
Something exploded.
I think it's my spleen.
In 1939, the police mounted an investigation, and Johnson fled New York. For the next 27 years he travelled the country, visiting thousands of communities. Wherever he went his pattern was the same: he would woo the town librarian, impress the townspeople with his credentials and smooth-talk, finally gain their trust, and sell them all copies of his ever increasing volume of poetry. Then he would flee town as they realized that he was just a con artist with a thing for librarians.
In 1966, Peter Johnson was brutally assaulted by Miss Ida Parkinson, the town librarian of Sewage Line, Arkansas. He was hospitalized in nearby Jacksonville. During the ensuing police investigation, the FBI learned of Johnson's location and arrested him for dishonesty, littering, and 23rd degree murder (telling someone to "Go to Hell"). In a dramatic trial which featured testimony from three different English teachers, Johnson was given a 612 year prison sentence.
Johnson was imprisoned until 1972, when he was let out on parole. A dramatic shift had taken place in Johnson's character. He had, while in prison, found religion. What religion he found is not known. He refused to talk about it, except to say that it "involved Elvis." That year he got work as a janitor for Montgomery Blair High School.
Sometime between 4 and 5 pm on March 3, 1975, Johnson wrote his last poem. While mopping room C103, apparently struck by the stupidity and pointlessness of his life, Johnson committed suicide with a janitorial implement. Scrawled on the wall in his blood, the police found:
A genius on this spot did die,
The world his genius did deny.
A janitor on this spot did croak,
The world this day his death provoked.
--The Honorable His Holiness Dr. Prof. Sir Lord Emperor Editor in Chief King Mr.Miss Mrs. Ms. Lt. Colonel Rev. "Peter Johnson" Xmos, ABC XYZ PhD LLD DDS ScD MD BS BA MS MA PS PA PPS PPA MBHS MBA OTR/L RN...
...at which point he ran out of blood.
Johnson was forgotten for over twelve years. Then, according to Anne Wisnewski, who ran magnet study hall in the room, "Papers started flying around the room. Computer programs mysteriously crashed. Groaning noises were heard. Then in the spring of 1989, a small group of freshmen started writing stupid poems, signing them 'Rev. Xmos.'" The tradition of writing stupid poetry in C103 of Montgomery Blair High School has continued until today. Whether the students are haunted, as Wisnewski contends, or merely honoring the memory of Johnson is not certain. What is certain is that the name "Rev. Xmos," and its role in the history of our country will not soon be forgotten.