Do You Think I Can Take A Punch?

So...do any of you bastards out there think I can take a punch? If I were a betting man I'd put a brand new FIFTY dollar bill down that I can. See this rugged complexion? Padding baby. The beard protects my chin, the glasses my eyes, the long hair adds a life saving layer over my ears, etc. This type of thing is something I have been planning for since I was twelve. That was the year Denny Myers beat me down on the playground like a fucking bitch. Yeah, I'll admit it, I went down like a sack of grain and wept like a girl, but times have changed since then and I changed along with them. I've cut the girlish fat off my body and along with it the loser mentality that clung to it like the stink following a log of shit. I've stripped it down to the bone homes. Some say I look like I did a five year stretch for molestation and came out better for it. I take that as a compliment. Being a man of iron means the rain may rust my surface but the integrity of my insides will never be compromised. So go ahead if you're feeling frisky, take your best shot. I'm ready for it. Are you?