Well, hello there. We’ve never met. Or have we? I’m not so good with faces but I do have very strong opinions on pretty much everything a person could have an opinion on, strong or otherwise, so sit back and strap yourself in because it’s about to get takey in here.
In a way, I envy you, for you don’t know yet how my takes might change your life for the better, even if at first you find my insights harsh and brutal, too piercing, perhaps occasionally hitting too close to home. Or too “out there” or “wild.” Sadly for me, being the possessor of so many hot takes that they are literally burning a literal hole in my literal pocket makes my life a literal hell.
Yes, heavy is the head that wears the family take-crown passed down to me from my Take-elder, my grandfather, who excelled at takes, especially at family holiday dinners, even if most of them were incredibly offensive racist rants that, frankly, we did our best to ignore. My father, on the other hand, never excelled at takes, so it seems taking can skip a generation. For one, he actually purposely waits to hear what other people have to say first, which has not only been a constant embarrassment for me all these years but is also anathema to a true Take-master. After all, like the elders say:
A taker must take lest the take not be took
And a take not taken gets stole by a took-crook
It was my grandfather who proudly witnessed my first true take, as I raged very eloquently for my age about the grilled cheese sandwiches, particularly the one my mother made for lunch, and how they were so clearly yucky, disgusting and not fit for consumption. My mother cried herself to sleep that night, while I rested serene and comfortable, safe in the knowledge that my life had found direction.
But as much symbolic blood as my takes have been known to draw, know that I suffer for my art, too, for a gift/curse of extreme takeness in all situations comes with a downside. Because this razor sharp take knife I wield with ease knows no boundaries, no limits, and will occasionally direct its blade inwards without mercy, without regard. This usually happens in the morning, after showering, while standing in front of the bathroom mirror, wrapped only in a towel and a fragile layer of ego, as gravity and age pound down relentlessly upon me while my blood sugar bottoms out and I’m yet to consume any coffee from my “Only My Takes Are Hotter” mug (now available on take-master.com!)*.
There I stand, every fault exposed for the world to see, if they could. And so would the daily routine then be to crumple to the floor, bleeding out metaphorically from a gaping self-inflicted take wound, victim to a take suicide, if you will. For the take blade is always true and keen, no matter the intended takee.
However, here is where a Take-master such as myself must truly display expertise and guile, performing their greatest feat of skill. Because much like Captain America might thwart a Skrull blaster attack with his vibranium shield, so must a Take-master deflect the self-take outwards, beyond their own walls, for a Take-master at war with themself is a Take-master divided, slowed and compromised in their duty – no, their responsibility – to quickly gift the world their toastiest and most crispiest of takes. And this can only be accomplished by looking down on the world below from atop the tallest of mountain peak while perched elegantly atop the highest of horses.
For I am a Take-master, born and bred. Now hear my song, the one taught to me by my grandfather prior to my first Take-day ceremony:
Amazing, astounding, astronomical takes!
Saucy, spicy, flaming takes!
Nuclear-tipped takes leaving scorched earth in their wakes!
Takes that eat other takes like baked cakes shaped like rakes!
Why no one shall every take better or faster
Because I am the Take-master!
And know no fear
Taking, taking, everywhere
And no one else should ever dare
Positing one of their own make
For their takes are fakes for goodness sakes!
*Please note, while all mugs do technically say, “Only My Takes Are Hotter,” all merchandise will have my name printed where it says “My” because, well, yeah