There’s this guy who goes to my college. He has a mullet.
Let’s imagine he looks a little like this.
Okay, wait, no. Maybe a little more like this.
There we go. Anyway, so this guy, Mullet Boy, wears his mullet around campus pretty damn proudly. And one day, my girlfriend was telling me about how she and someone else were looking at him or something, in utter disgust of his incredibly long, incredibly unattractive mullet, while he thought they were checking him out.
Wait. Were they?
Doesn’t matter. Anyway, another day, Pancake (GF) and I were at lunch, and we saw him, and we were talking about him.
“Why does he have a mullet if he just tucks it into his shirt?” Pancake asked. I thought about it, because that’s a damn good question. If you had such a magnificent piece of ‘do like that, why not show it off to the world, and all of the adoring public? Then it hit me.
“… The mullet…”
“… It’s the source of his power.”
Think about it. He keeps the mullet, but tucks it into his shirt. Obviously, I’m not the first one to realize this, and he’s keeping it safe from his enemies. It made so much sense that I didn’t realize I was spilling my iced tea all over myself.
Also, I’m pretty sure Mullet Boy knew we were talking about him the whole time. We should have turned our megaphones off.