We grew up watching those dudes get butchered in increasingly-grotesque ways by a diverse conglomeration of psychotic murderers and animals, both natural and supernatural.

I’m good with my plain black t-shirt that’s long enough to serve as a dress because I’m fat and need uberlength shirts to make it over the curvature of my Moo Deng pregnancy and still have enough fabric left over to not leave me looking like I’m wearing a cummerbund made from pale hairy human skin.

Fat guy dress > being split vertically, starting at the willy, by an industrial saw because I unknowingly spent a summer afternoon in a swimming hole that once hosted a cruel gang of teenagers who pretended to befriend a lonely man with a deformity and subsequently caused him to drown in it by shoving him off the rocks into the water even though they knew he couldn’t swim.