Growing up as a young idiot in the south I had to find fun whereever I could. For instance, me and my friends would go and ride bikes. Well one of these days I was dared by a friend of mine to ride down an extremely steep hill with a sharp turn at the base of the hill. Being the type of person I was I of course said yes. I remember it was a warm day as the wind blew across the small southern town. I looked down the hill and it immediately regretted my decision. But my pride gave me courage, I looked around at my friends and pushed off and shot down the hill. I controlled the bike with ease and thought I may be able to survive. It was at that moment I hit a rock in the middle of the road, I began to frantically wobble and bounce. I knew what was next. SPLAT! I got up and began to dust myself off. I look up and who should be standing in the road but an armadillo. I looked at it and it looked at me and began to wobble towards me. I thought to myself that was weird, but I just picked my bike up and began to walk away. I looked behind me and I was defintely getting followed by the armadillo. I began to speed up, the armadillo sped up, I began to run, it began to run. I threw my bike to the side and took off running. I looked behind me and the armadillo was running as well, and moving quickly might I add. that's right, I got chased by an armadillo.
fuck you Dillo.