Before I was a pussy who couldn't talk to women. Then I started watching Johnny Bravo. I learned everything I could from Johnny Bravo about how to court a woman. The following day I walked into class, and I caught the eyes of all the women in there. I got those tarts so damp that the humidity in the room increased. Fuck year. I was dressed in skin-tight leather so whenever I made sudden movements, you could hear whiplashes. I had a pompadour so large and phallic that it would get caught on the doorway if I didn't duck. It was gelled to be hard enough to be used as a weapon. I could literally headbutt a woman into orgasming with my hair. I was injected with enough steroids to buff up that I'm surprised my penis and testicles still legally existed.
I sit down, and all the women want to sit next to me. "Hang on, ladies, there's enough of me to go around," I say. That didn't stop them. Even the teacher couldn't keep her eyes off of me. She ordered all of the boys except me out of the classroom. I smiled. I knew what was going to happen. Except I didn't, and they all tied me down and force-fed me viagra and had sex marathons with me for 10 hours without stopping. Woman after woman after woman treated me like nothing more than an object, a plaything. I was exhausted, dehydrated, and my manhood was worked raw as I cried pitifully, covered in all manner of fluids and materials as they left me over night. My psychosis began to slowly slip into oblivion as I contemplated life. About how I wondered where everything went wrong. About how I was just mercilessly tortured for hours on end by those vile succubi. I eventually worked my wrists raw and bloody to get myself untied and escaped the classroom. The only thought that crossed my blank mind was "Shit, I feel sorry for the janitor when he comes in tomorrow morning."
I go home and sleep as if nothing had happened. I stood by my teaching of Johnny Bravo, but now this time for vengeance. When I left, I would drive by lone women on the streets. They would swoon over me. I would offer them a ride, and they willingly accepted. What happened I will not describe. You do not deserve to have that brought up on you. But those women, I learned they all couldn't be trusted. I would humiliate them, torture them, and eventually my psychosis slipped into murder. The first victim was a young brunette on the 28th. She had a nice smile. I cut her a nicer one.
Eventually I was having intercourse with a woman I picked up in my car. Eventually I started getting rougher, then I started crying profusely shouting why Mama doesn't see me as an adult, so I started strangling her there. I choked the life out of that bitch. I crushed her dainty throat with my pulsating muscles, my sunglasses showing no inflection. That girl only saw herself looking back in horror as I squeezed the last breathes of life from her. I stopped and started crying at what I had become. Then I realized, I realized that all my indignant fury was misplaced. The real man who was responsible for the monster that had been created... was Johnny Bravo. And by extension, Seth MacFarlane. I realized what I had to do. I was to kill Seth Macfarlane for what he's done. This went beyond what he did with the fourth season of Family Guy. This was personal.
Of course being lost in rage, I didn't know what Seth MacFarlane looked like, so when I flew to Connecticut, I started killing indiscriminately, hoping one of them would be him. Now I'm a convicted sex offender and serial killer who's murdered 23 people.
This is why cartoons are bad influences on children.
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