…when I was seven, I woke up and there was a mountain lion in my bedroom. At first I was a little scared, but then he looked at me and said, “What the fuck are you looking at?” and I realized I had nothing to be scared of. I mean, the talking mountain lion had to be a dream, right? And I was a skinny kid, so there wasn’t much to eat if it was a real mountain lion. Then, out of the blue, it attacked me… fuck me, it was a REAL talking mountain lion. I used to sweat a lot due to a gland disease called “sweatititis”, so when it attacked, I was able to slip away, but not for long because it was a fucking mountain lion and they are super fast. Next thing I knew, we were wrestling in the living room and broke one of my mom’s lamps. She never believed me that it was the talking mountain lion that broke it, by the way. After a few minutes, I got the upper hand and threw the mountain lion through the front window. Then, it ran off, but now I was pissed, so I chased it for three miles until it finally got tired. Mountain lions don’t have much stamina. Then, I realized it just wanted a hug, so we hugged it out and I took it home and fed it some ribs.