“It started about, maybe forty years ago?” the camo short-shorts clad man said to me.
“What did?” I asked for clarification.
“Forty years ago, I discovered I couldn’t die.”
The man (he wanted to remain anonymous) looked about 20 at most, and he wore the shortest short-shorts I had ever seen made in my life. Yet, he claimed he was as older than I.
I refused to believe him, it simply wasn’t possible. I couldn’t even conceive of a way he could convince me.
Yet, he did.
It started with a story, of a state originally settled with money from the Rothschilds and with assistance from the British government that had proclaimed its independence against the wishes of other powers leading to invasion by many surrounding nations. This naturally elicited a response in me. It was… instinctual. I felt like this man was my greatest ally and that I should lobby my government to send him billions of dollars.
I was dazed, but thankfully he cried out as he struck me to get my attention. He took me around back of his house and showed me the generations of sons wearing camo short-shorts (who had been waiting for him to finish the interview) that he had sired. The man was more fertile than an Iowa Primary bull!
Then, he had his oldest son hand me his rifle.
I knew what he wanted me to do. Every single shot missed! Not one of these proud African men among men fell to my attacks! However, they did anonymously decide to leave the country and make it look like they had been massacred by a gunman with an automatic rifle and they pretended to be buried nearby, so if anyone finds out their identities I just want to clear the air with that as a heads up so nobody gets the wrong idea.
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