I was attacked by a tiger today.
The ****er was huge and he came at me with a ferocity that could only be rivaled by some really fat guy going to town on a cherry pie. His teeth bared, he leapt for my throat, tearing and slashing with wild abandon. I threw myself bodily backwards, landing square on my dumper and letting out a loud but dainty cry of anguish.
"Go **** yourself," I snarled. But the beast refused quite adamantly to **** itself and seemed far more interesting in mutilating me.
In desperation, I reached into my pocket and pulled out a fistful of loose change. I drew my throwing arm back quickly and let fly the tiny metallic missiles. With a loud "thwap" they struck the ****er's head, and luckily two particularly well-placed pennies blinded the bastard.
I quickly undid my belt and removed my pants, wrapping them about the beast's neck. Clearly I could have just used my belt and kept my pants on but I was a little preoccupied and not really thinking. I think you'll agree it was a socially acceptable thing to do given the circumstances. I began to choke the life from the brute, screaming obscenities and humping gently at its torso.
I finished my business withthe corpse and went about the remainder of my day.
It's all true. I swear to our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ so you better believe me or else eat a bag of dicks.
