What makes you such an expert on velociraptors and bacon anyhow?
It all dates back to a traumatic experience I had when I was twelve. I was walking in a clearing in the forest with my best friend, when suddenly a velociraptor came crashing through the trees.
The raptor came from the left, and reached my friend first. My friend tried to defend himself, but all he had was a kazoo and a stale bagel. He blew the kazoo, but no sound came out because a kazoo is not a real instrument and nobody knows how to play them anyway. Then he threw the bagel, but the raptor was not impressed. Seconds later, the raptor pulled out my friend’s spine and yelled “FATALITY!” like Scorpion from Mortal Kombat. I made up that last part, but that would have made the whole thing either less or more traumatic.
After my friend died, I swore I would teach the whole world what to do in case of raptor attack so that the terrible tragedy that befell my friend would never happen again. I spent three years in a bus station in New Jersey, researching various methods of distracting bums. Bums are like practice raptors, by the way. They have the same reptile brain and zesty odors as a raptor, but without the deadly claws.
Finally, I gave up and took the bus back to Manitoba. Two weeks after I got home, I was walking through the same woods when I heard a rustle, and suddenly the same raptor that killed my friend leapt out from behind a bush. I could tell it was the same raptor because he had a birthmark on his right haunch that looked like Roger Ebert.
As it just so happens, I was carrying a whistle from my job as a part-time lifeguard at the Dairy Queen, and half a pound of bacon from same. I blew the whistle, threw the bacon, and that raptor took off running like a dog chasing a truck full of Milk-bones being driven by Toonces the cat from Saturday Night Live. I escaped with my life, and then I started this website in remembrance of my dead friend, Pope John Paul II. That’s right, he died of a raptor attack.