Back Into The Wild...

I remember being in the wild. I remember chasing down gazelles and sinking my teeth into their juicy blood drenched flesh. I remember being amongst my pride on the savanna, and I even remember being captured. Now my life is much like that of the life of a lion in a zoo. What does life consist of now? I sit, docile in captivity. My cubicle acts as my cage, allowing people to walk by and point while talking shit. They can do this now because they don't have to fear getting attacked as i'm restrained throughout the day.
This is mty reality, and it is slowly robbing me of my natural insticts. People wonder how I can be so fucking amped to get out of work and spend the rest of the day going from the weight room, to train boxing, to training brazilian jiu jitsu and wrestling. It's because that is me being back in my natural habitat. The competitions serve as my reintroduction into the wild. Each and every oponent taking the form of a helpless gazelle or wildebeast. The refs hand signaling my reemerssion into the wild.
Tomorrow will be such a day. The Texas Submission League has seen fit to host a tournament in my own backyard. How can I not answer the call? My only job: To bring back the carcasses of as many dead animals as possible. This marks the start of a new hunting season...