Return of Grog

Grog found big club. Good for smashing.

Why you laughing?

Grog don't like you.

Grog smash you!

*smash*

*smash*

*smash*

No running!

*smash*

Come back!

*smash*

*smash*

Grog smash you!

*smash*

*catching breath*

No funny.

Be friends with Grog? Grog can find food for us friends.

Meat. Juicy meat.

Smashed meat.

Jummy.

Where friend go?

And the children, too!

When I grow up, I want to be a psychopath.

Honestly. What better way to show appreciation to whatever entity that created you, than to prove the excellent quality of you by killing random strangers in the night and putting them on display for the whole world to see?

I do not, however, like war. War is ugly. Fights should be mann gegen mann, without a platoon of gun wielders to guard your back.

Survival of the fittest. Survival of the best.

I want to embody evolution. I want to hunt, make war, make love to many women, grow better, have lots of offspring... and then die fighting.


...nah. I like my life just fine. My name isn't Hannibal Lecter.