chris-littlechild - October 30, 2012
The locals spin the following yarn: whilst striding malevolently through Africa one Tuesday afternoon, Satan paused (malevolently) for a (malevolent) dump. The virgin's entrails ragu he had eaten the previous evening had perhaps been undercooked, and the dark lord had neglected to take an (malevolent) imodium.
"GRRRAHHH!that chef is going to have his pubes shaved with a machete for this," quoth he, as he crouched in the sand with his tightie-whities around his ankles, straining (malevolently).
Several hours later, he had succeeded in voiding his nefarious bowels. What was born in the resultant smoking crater, a disconcerting rectum-birth from the shit-stained depths of the Dark Lord's anus? The most badass bitch the planet has ever known: the horrifying Honey Badger.
This thing is, indubitably, all kinds of holy shit. Superficially, it resembles a drunken, elderly weasel. Perchance the very beast you'd take little Jimmy to admire at the zoo. He'd say things like, it's cute, dad, can we keep it? What do they eat, dad? and why does it have that dude's bollocks in its mouth, dad? Do not be deceived by the Honey Badger's innocuous appearance. Upon closer scrutiny, you'll note that it appears to have a set of actual Dracula fangs upside-down in its furious maw. This son of a bitch is a two feet long ballistic missile of furious hair and teeth.
These bastards sport a relatively-meager body length of thirty inches, and stand twelve inches at the shoulder. Piteous, you may venture. About the size of the old incontinent poodle grandma used to have. Damn thing kept pissing on the carpet. I could take it with both legs and a testicle tied behind my back. Presumably, this was the impetuous conclusion that several full-grown and mantastic lions reached, as the Honey Badger encroached upon its territory. Alas, these furry death machines have been documented dashing ‘neath the nethers of lions and rending their scrotums off. When you have a proclivity for handing the erstwhile King of Beasts its bollocks on a plate -in the most literal, leg-crossing sense of the term- it's probably safe to venture that nobody will want to play with you at recess any more; you shan't be invited to Michael's house after school to ogle the Playboys he found in his dad's closet.
The Honey Badger's mantra, seemingly: If it moves, kill it. If it doesn't,kill it more. If it's an actual motherf--king jeep, attack the shit out of it anyway (another recorded event). If it's dead, eat it.
Nary a beast in the animal kingdom is safe when these bastards are hungry. In one entrenched conflict with a King Cobra -itself quite the pants-fouling, venomous mofo- it was beset by several thousand poison-coursing bites to the face, a sufficient dose to down a school of blue whales. This mighty meter-long midget though, was entirely unperturbed. Unable to muster sufficient shits to give, it nonchalantly continued chewing on the cranium of the foolish creature that attempted to mount a feeble resistance. It passed out for mere moments from the venom, remembered how inexorably awesome its species is, and returned from the dead. Whereupon, it waved its nuts in the blood-bleeding snake's face and resumed eating. That's quite some resilience and chutzpah right there.
These mothers are seen in bees' nests, being stung to bollocks and back yet casually feasting with its hairy middle finger raised at its aggressors. The remarkably thick and loose flesh of the Honey Badger renders it an animal evolution has specifically tailored to savage everything else ever. They are poultry-pilfering pests, nigh-impossible to hunt with dogs due to these fleshy shenanigans. Should an unfortunate canine attempt to achieve a purchase upon it, these tiny sadists will be able to twist around and unleash the full shitstorm of their claw-y, teethy vengeance upon their foe. You do not hunt the Honey Badger, you merely get the shit out of its way and pray that both your balls are still attached when it has gone about its angry business and left.
Still skeptical about the Honey Badger's worthiness of the first 10 out of 10 on the Manimals meter? For your delectation, then, here's a short film of its antics, rated B for intense badassery:
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