Ya know, all my life people have underestimated me, and all I’ve ever done was prove to them time and time again that I’m an absolute madman.

You see that thing over there? That brown thing on the floor covered in hair.

No. Not that one.

Yes! That one!

I licked that thing.

Don’t underestimate me.

I will come over there and spank you right on the butt, sir. I swear to God I will!

It reminded me of home, and as I stood there naked under the starlit sky I began to feel a bit nostalgic.

You know what happened to the last person who underestimated me? His name was Kyle, 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 KYLE?!?!” 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.

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One night while attending an orgy in Rwanda I came across a nation of Pygmies called The Umutuku Isogisi and over the course of the evening I befriended their chief. His name was Ortiz, 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. He 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. Ortiz took his club and pointed it to the sky at a gigantic green 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 nation 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 Ortiz 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.

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As the Umutuku Isogisi swarmed me to celebrate, the mescaline started wearing off, and I slowly started coming to the realization that I wasn’t really in Rwanda at all. I was in Boston the whole time, being escorted out of Fenway Park 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 United States and parts of Northeast Asia existing within itself. 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.

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