As I get older and perhaps less threatening looking I really feel like people tend to underestimate me and lately all I have been doing is proving them wrong…I truly am a Bad Ass MoFo!
For example, do you see that thing over there next to my coach, that brownish looking thing covered in cat hair…
No…Not that one
Yes…that’s the one
Well, I totally licked that thing yesterday
I truly am a Bad Ass MoFo!
What? I swear to God I will come over there and spank you on the ass Sir!..I swear I will!
Why did I lick it? Because at the time it reminded me of a field trip I took in the 6th grade, I was sitting on my couch naked watching re-runs of Friends and I saw that thing and had a flashback to that field trip I took…It made me feel a bit nostalgic.
You know what happened to the last person who underestimated me? His name was Chris, and he used to pick on me in elementary school. One time he tried copying the answers off my test, and when I told him to stop he stabbed me in the arm with a pencil. At the time I played it cool. I didn’t retaliate. I left him to his own devices so he could live his life in blissful ignorance; unaware of the fact I was meticulously plotting my revenge.
Then, about twenty years later I saw him. I walked right up to him and stabbed him in the shoulder with a pen. “REMEMBER ME CHRIS?!?!” I screamed as I stabbed him over and over until his family and a few pallbearers pulled me away from his casket.
That’s how I roll, baby.
Look at me for Christ sake! At first glance you wouldn’t think I’m a generous, caring lover would you? But, don’t underestimate me my friend. I am known across five continents for my prowess in carnal ingenuity. I have absolutely no problem getting ladies in the sack. Seriously, you should come to my house sometime and see all the sacks full of ladies I have.
One night while attending an orgy in the Congo I came across a tribe of Pygmies called The Hillarioo Clintosees and over the course of the evening I befriended their chief. Her name was Chelsea, and we became very close. In each other we found kindred spirits, and even though we didn’t speak each other’s language we somehow connected psychically. She grabbed me by the hand and brought me across a beautiful field of grass. There was something familiar about it to me. It reminded me of home, and as I stood there naked under the starlit sky I began to feel a bit nostalgic.
But soon my comfort turned to fear when I realized why they brought me there. Chelsea took her club and pointed it to the sky at a gigantic yellow monster. I turned to face the gentle Pygmies, and I realized that these people were counting on me to save their village.
“I CAN’T DO THIS! I’M NOT A HERO!” I screamed, but then I turned around and looked into the eyes of a tribe of adorable, hairless little Pygmies who believed in me. I was so overwhelmed with emotion that I dropped to my knees and started weeping because they saw a hero in me when I couldn’t even see one in myself. I had underestimated myself my entire life up until that point, but now the time had come for me to be the hero I was always destined to be.
I took the club from Chelsea and charged at the monster as fast as I could. I started beating it with the club until I grew sore and my legs couldn’t carry me, but eventually I subdued the monster with sheer determination, and the undeniable strength of the human spirit.
As the Hilarioo Clintosees swarmed me to celebrate, the mescaline started wearing off, and I slowly started coming to the realization that I wasn’t really in the Congo at all. I was in Helena the whole time, being escorted out of Walmart by security.
All I’m trying to say is that you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover. Just because somebody looks a certain way doesn’t mean they are that way.
Consider the elk. The elk roams majestically across the plains and hills of Montana. The elk doesn’t concern itself with what others think. It doesn’t care about motive, or its place in the world.
And this is what makes the elk so easy to murder.
The elk underestimates.