(The thing on the right).
Yeah, what the hell is that thing?
A schoolchild in Fayetteville won the naming contest, calling it "Strike."
Okay, not that helpful of a hint.
It's obviously hairy.
And angry. So very, very angry.
Look at those pale blue eyes.
But what is it?
And this is wrong, on so very many many levels, but I'm pretty sure there is only one explanation that goes along with a nickname like "Naturals."
Strike is an anthropomorphized pile of ladies' landscaping.
See, you're upset. Even those of you who don't know exactly what I mean.
I'll spell it out for those of you who still don't quite get it, but prepare to be taken aback.
Strike is a walking, talking, pile of pubes. The personification of wild, untamed Wookie bush.
There, I said it in plain English.
Why don't I feel better?
I think I feel maybe worse than I ever have in my life.
But it had to be said.
(The depths of offensiveness I'll dredge to regain my lost readership is spellbinding, isn't it?)