Here we have a cake so testosterone-charged that I bet any female within a ten foot radius will spontaneously sprout a beard and crave flannel. No tinker-toy plastic deer or tractors for Robert - hoo no; this is a guy who eats danger for breakfas... er, I mean dessert. No sissy exclamation points after his name, either: "Robert" must always be pronounced with deadly determination. In fact, after this he's going shark-fishing: alone, in a rowboat, at night, and with only his trusty blade, lure, and flashlight to aid him. So you'd best cut him an extra big slice.
Thank you! Celeritas
