If You Ladies Don’t Let Me Sire Some Children, My Evolved Sixth Sense Dies With Me
This is all your fault, you know?
This could be our heavily evolved child but you playin
Hello there, my dear readers. It’s your boy THE JEFF, back with another shocking revelation that will blow your fucking minds. Buckle up, because this stuff is about to get real.
You know how sometimes you just get a feeling? A sixth sense, if you will, about something? Well, guess what? I, THE JEFF, have evolved an actual, literal sixth sense. It’s like having a built-in lie detector, mixed with a dash of psychic powers, and a whole lotta knowing when to bring an umbrella.
I can smell fear. I can sense when someone’s lying. I can even predict the fucking weather, no joke. It’s like I’m a goddamn walking, talking human weather station…with abs.
But here’s the thing: as much as this sixth sense is a gift, it’s also a curse. Why? Because the ladies don’t like it. Oh no, they don’t like it one bit.
You see, when you have a sixth sense, you start to notice all the little things. The tiny microexpressions, the slight changes in body language, the way someone’s voice wavers just a fraction of a second too long. And let me tell you, when you start pointing these things out to a lady, they get pissed. Real quick.
“Why are you staring at me like that?” they ask. “Why are you so intense?” “Why do you keep calling me out on my bullshit?”
Newsflash, sweetheart: I’m not staring. I’m analyzing. I’m observing. I’m using my god-given sixth sense to get to the bottom of your shit. It’s not creepy; it’s efficient.
But the ladies don’t see it that way. They think I’m weird. They think I’m too much. They think I’m, gasp, TOO INTENSE.
Well, boo-hoo, ladies. Boo-fucking-hoo. Because you’re the ones who are missing out. You’re the ones who are letting a perfectly good sixth sense go to waste. You’re the ones who are keeping me from siring children and passing on this precious gift to the next generation.
And mark my words: when I die, my sixth sense dies with me. It’s a one-in-a-billion mutation, and the world will be poorer for its loss.
So ladies, do us all a favor. Stop being so damn close-minded. Embrace the power of the sixth sense. Let me show you what it’s like to really know someone, inside and out. Who knows? You might even like it.
And if you don’t? Well, that’s your loss. But THE JEFF will still be out here, using his sixth sense for good…and referring to himself in the third person.
