holy fucking shit!

before shit hit fan.


unbeknownst to us, bad news was on our way. contrary to the many horoscopes i had received upon my cellular phone, there was a bad moon horizon.


does that look like blood? well, that's because it is.


want to know what happened? well, a good friend of the a.t.d.f was assaulted violently by a trogolydytic cretin. micah lunged forth to prohibit said assault. micah foricibly removed the assailant from our good friend. but no good deed goes unpunished and this particular deed was thwarted by fists of fury. our friend absconded with his life. yet micah received numerous blows to his tender visage, but managed to emerge relatively unscathed (cavemen have a penchant for destruction, but not in the form of the self-deprecation (meaning their ability to inflict damage suffers upon themselves), meaning their bloodlust obscures their visual acuity. gar, however, managed only to take two paces towards the melee whereupon he was swiftly taken to the ground by abettors to the assault.

turns out, when proponents of social darwinism put their collective mind to something, gar proves but a minor perturbance in the plan. micah, however, creates a diversion worthy of absquatulation. basically, micah is a man... gar, but a young feline (if you catch my meaning).

this is what the common man refers to as a pynch.

-gar

p.s the inverse of crooked and the inverse of the middle ground together produce a perfect allegory of the futility of aggression.

p.p.s. gar was totally on his way to making out with a female, but this outward act of aggression foiled his most noble of attempts at courtship.

p.p.p.s. micah also was gunning for and the likelihood was 85% to achieve the same lady.

p.p.p.p.s. gar hates his life.

p.p.p.p.p.s. oh yeah, when gar's attempt to intervene failed (as it was destined to) his only recourse, was to begin to weep.

p.p.p.p.p.p.s. gar cries a lot.