This picture was taken in the midst of a terrible struggle for survival. Let me tell you a tale...
Once upon a time I took a Computer Science paper at The Ronald McDonald University for the Rectally Handicapped
Looking me square in the eye he said, "Son, the reason I failed you is because your brain is composed largely of faeces. You suck more balls than a one legged man in an ass kicking contest". Clearly there was no changing his mind. Oh well. Plan B. "Sir", I began, "allow me to take a moment to fill you in on my recent sexual encounters with your family, friends and pets". "Ok" he replied and sat back, listening patiently. After a full 30 minutes, I gave up and moved on to death threats. Finally, as I was detailing the various rectal mutilation techniques that I would apply to his dead parrots, he snapped.
Like a ferocious lion, he leaped up on his desk, pulled the above hat and glasses out of his back pocket, and roared! His nostrils flared and steamed and his voice seemed to issue forth straight out of their snorting depths: "SONNY, DON'T YOU KNOW WHO YOU'RE DEEEALING WITH!" He then double somersaulted off his desk, punctuating the landing with a screeching "BOOOOM!", before erecting himself in the above pose mere centimeters from my terrified face. It was then that I noticed the distinctive bulge of an M20B1 Super Bazooka tucked into his belt and under his shirt.
I can confidently say that, had I left home without my grappling gun and smoke grenades, I would now be dead.
I had to conceal myself while I made my escape. So, as he struggled to free the bazooka from his pants, I snap rolled toward the door while unclipping a smoke grenade from my utility belt. Hefting the device, I cocked my arm and hurled it at his face. It clocked him hard and true in the chops, granting me a few precious seconds while his vision blurred with tears and the air became translucent with spittle as he dropped f-bombs for Africa.
I let loose my own roar. Only my roar was actually more like a terrified scream. Well... if we're gonna get technical about it: I screamed in the manner of one who is having his testicles busted open with a nutcracker while simultaneously having his remaining genital equipment welded to his anus.
I ran out of his office and down the corridor screaming like my life depended on it — which I assure you, it did. If I had thought about it, I suppose I would have turned my head and screamed backwards to boost my speed. But I wasn't thinking straight.
Lucky for me, he'd left the safety on, and I reached the end of the building just as he fumbled off the first rocket. I smashed out of the 3rd story window and grappled onto the next building, swinging out of harms way as he completely obliterated the top 4 stories of the computer science building...
Unfortunately, there were no witnesses as everyone in the building had their music up too loud to notice the commotion. Thus, me and Ron were forced to spend the rest of the semester carefully avoiding each other.
NOTE: It is vital for our children that the world hears this story, which is why I have petitioned Michael Bay to make this raving into a movie. Sign it here!