Don't own Wimbly or anyone else. I mean, what are the odds?

The Exciting Adventures of Wimbly Donner

Wimbly Donner was an average, brown haired, brown eyed little girl. She was born in Winhill—a tiny town no one had ever heard of before Squall and all those other important people went there—and lived there until she reached the age of 5, at which point her parents cruelly decided to make her attend military school.

And despite the many temper tantrums—which included the squashing of the family cat, Wimbly's attempts at somehow getting ketchup into the toothpaste tube, and the more common, marginally less psychotic screams of: "You-can't-make-me-go!"—Wimbly Donner arrived at Balamb Garden…frightened, snuffly (the flu had been going around the pre-K of Winhill recently), and alone on the first of September, nineteen-probably-seventy-or-eighty-something. She was sure she would hate every second of the evil that took her away from her comfortable rural lifestyle.

Then Wimbly Donner found her life's calling. Her passion. That which made her life worth living!

The Garden festival.

Sadly, it seemed no one shared poor little Wimbly's joy for party planning. She was devastated.

Then came the moment of enlightenment. She could do it by herself!

Unfortunately for loser-ish little Wimbly, she couldn't. She quit Garden at 17 years of age, leaving behind only a slightly depressing footnote on the Garden tutorial-thing about how no one had helped her. Even sadder than Wimbly's pathetic legacy was the fact that no one bothered to read it.

And since Wimbly had no friends, no life, and no adventures…no one really cares what happened to Wimbly Donner after that. Ah well.