When I was in fifth grade my class took a trip to the National Zoo. Not even an hour after we had arrived, I found myself in front of the Malayan Sun Bear exhibit. Of all the non-koala bears in the bear hierarchy the Malayan Sun Bear is the least menacing in appearance. Don’t get me wrong, it’s still a fucking monster and will eat your head. But there’s something kind of dopey and childlike about its posture. The tufts on the sides of its head perhaps? I don’t know. But when I look at this thing I don’t curse the very ground I stand on with shit the same way I would a Grizzly. Anyway, I stood there for several minutes monitoring its behavior. He’s just minding his own business. “He doesn’t seem so bad” I thought. “He’s almost like a big dog.”

Somehow I got it in my completely and obviously damaged brain that if I could somehow throw a stick into the enclosure, the bear would fetch it.

I can’t remember where I found the stick, but somehow a sizable tree branch found its way into my possession. We had gotten to the zoo fairly early that morning so there wasn’t much of a crowd. This made my little endeavor all that much easier to facilitate. I’m stupid, but I know when I’m doing something I’m not supposed to do.

I took a couple steps back and Howie-Long-in-Firestorm tomahawk’d this bitch up over the wall of the “bear”icade.

Now, I’m not very coordinated. And imagination without coordination is a dangerous thing. Because that stick didn’t just plop down comfortably on the grass somewhere, no, it smacked that nightmare-farm right in its goddamned bear face.

Right in its god. damned. bear. face.

I did that thing people do when they see one of their friends get hit in the balls. You know what I’m talking about. Where you cover the part of your body that they got hit in. My hands flew over my nose and mouth in an empathetic heave.

If you ever believe even one part of even one single stupid story you read on Reddit, please let it be this one. The Malayan Sun Bear barked in pain. Wiped its face. Stood up. And stared right at me. Like the last guy at the bar you would ever fuck with and you fucked with him. I couldn’t help but stare back in abject horror. He was taking me in. Absorbing every single detail about me. My ugly pink monkey face and gnarled curly hair. It felt like an eternity. Like when you first touch fire.

When he was done tattooing my pathetic visage into his brain he returned to all fours and marched back into the dark of his artificial den and out of sight. But the burn of those eyes didn’t go with him.

If I ever find out that the animals in the National Zoo broke out, I’m gone. Out of here. Because there is a Malayan Sun Bear that lives there that has me entirely convinced that, given the chance, he would rip the motherfucking world apart to kill me. And I would totally deserve it.

My coworker is bragging about how he doesn’t give blood despite him having an incredibly rare blood type.

THAT IS LIKE having an incredibly rare blood type, not donating it, and then bragging to your coworkers.

I’ve been after this one specific gamertag on xbox for a really long time. The person who has it doesn’t even use it anymore and the account has been offline for 2 years. So I was snooping around some forums this morning to see if anyone knew of a way I could get the tag and I came across a particular post from somebody with pretty much the same issue. They knew the account wasn’t in use any more, and were wondering if there was some way to tell when the account was going to get reclaimed.

Anyway, everyone was being moderately helpful until the poor guy mentioned that he wanted to change his gamertag to “gucci mane” and then everybody immediately started calling him a faggot. I absolutely hate that word, but damn I was laughing so fucking hard.

my new band name is Ereptile Hissfunction