Win.

Dax Guthrie

It was a manly evening much like any other, and I spent it accordingly, sprawled out on a cold metal table attempting to install spikes into my skeletal system. The operation was a rousing success and I normally would have celebrated by taking my shirt off and counting my chest hairs, but before I could un-stick the tight shirt from my muscular exterior, I noticed a signal outside my window. It was my friend, sending a smoke signal in Morse code, likely with his bare hands and an open flame. It indicated that after numerous hours of manual labor and vigorous grunting noises he had created a type of couch car. (For the rest of this story, the couch car will be replaced by some more manly… Like a CatMobile.) Well now I, being as manly as I was, literally jumped on the idea of taking this CatMobile out for a masculine drive. Literally.
So I tore down walls to my garage and pulled out my cannon. My pet, trained raptor named Allen heeded my telepathic commands and ripped off my left arm only slightly before forcing me into the cannon using naught but a wad of crumpled up sheet metal. He then turned the cannon to face my friend’s house of manlitude, and used my left arm and some dried volcanic rock to ignite the fuse. This he did by grinding the rock into my arm with such force and speed that it startled Thor, the god of thunder, who then dropped his mighty hammer, creating thirteen-million consecutive lightning strikes right onto my cannon. And within the manly amount of time it takes for flame to travel the fuse, I was hurdling through the sky faster than the speed of speed.
My astounding velocity created an astral portal, which as I passed through granted me a new left arm. This arm was even harier and more muscular than the original. Not to mention it was made entirely of gold. And on the other side of the astral portal, I reentered the atmosphere and found myself at my friend’s doorstep.
I then proceeded to climb the ladder made entirely of burning venomous snakes, which were pythons that were coated with poison and engulfed in flames, all the way up to his massive doorbell. And since brute, man-force was not enough to ring this doorbell; I had to sacrifice several baby animals to extract the melodious chime. And as I was thinking about how I had just used the words melodious and chime together, and about how it had been so manly to do so, my friend answered the door.
In a flash, I had grabbed hold of his esophagus and removed every major organ in his body, including his skin; our usual greeting. I assumed he would have parked the Cat out back and I was right. I decided, as I approached the CatMobile, that I would take it for a spin in the field of razor blades and broken glass found atop a plateau in the Rocky Mountains. So I lifted the three-hundred ton CatMobile and started walking.
As I arrived at my destination of masculine deadliness, I realized I could have just ridden the CatMobile all the way there- but the Cat topped off at 4000 MPH, so it wouldn’t have been nearly as quick. Shaking off this thought, I placed the Cat onto the razor-clad ground and assumed my mount atop it only slightly before I was ambushed by several bears holding sharks.
I had no time to waste; I put the Cat into 5th and tore into the razors with a completely ridiculous amount of speed. The bears reacted swiftly- while half, the cavalry, continued to chase me down, the artillery put down their sharks and picked up rocket launchers. Rocket launchers that shot catapults that were on fire that shot rocks, on fire, which were secretly rocket launchers that shot out laser-sword-guns which were also on fire and constantly exploding.
And as one of these laser-sword-guns made its way towards me, I realized I had no hope of dodging it. I had to jump Cat. But as I attempted to do this, my overly muscular foot got caught in the harness and sent me tumbling to the razor-clad earth below. Upon impact with the ground, I broke more bones than I had in my entire body and was forced through the ground until I suddenly emerged in front of my lair of manliness. By this time, every bone in my body had healed itself, except for those in my new-found left arm. Because it was gold, and not part of my rapidly healing body, I would have to fix this arm myself.
I exacted the surgery with my right hand while using my left to decapitate bears and sharks alike, all the while I was running an Olympic decathlon with my shirt off. At several points during my surgery/decathlon I moved faster than the speed of sound, created a rift in time, and accidentally became the father of every important person in history ever. I say accidentally because it was no doing of my own- as I traveled the rifts in the space time continuum, I was such a manly sight, that anyone who looked at me was already pregnant, even dudes and animals.
But I digress, as my son William Shakespeare would say, “Don’t tell them the woman screamed, bring her on and let her scream.” I never knew what that idiot boy was ever talking about… I swear it’s like he invented a new language. But I digress, I don’t see why the lady would be screaming anyways, unless it’s because I’m so manly. But I digress, I guess the point I’m trying to make is, I’m freaking awesome. And if you don’t think so then you’re freaking R-Tarded. Oh, and by the way, the surgery was a rousing success.