Embed Notice

Cartoon?! Pffft! Ha-HAH! You got another thing comin’, buckaroo!

I ain’t no Saturday mornin’ squiggle-figgle drawn by some jabroni with a crayon and a juice box. I’m Hoss freakin’ Delgado! World-renowned monster hunter! Slayer of beasts! Exterminator of the unclean and the unliving! And I’m as real as the scent of sulfur waftin’ off a were-skunk's tail after a good ol’ fashioned cage match in the underworld!

Cartoon, they say… Lemme tell you somethin’. Cartoons don’t rip the heads off of twelve swamp ghouls while dangling from a malfunctioning helicopter powered by the souls of the damned! That was me, baby! In Guatemala! 1997! I lost a molar and a mustache in that fight—and grew back both with nothing but sheer grit and a bottle of industrial-strength beard tonic!

Cartoon… Why don’t you tell that to the banshee queen of Barrow, Alaska? She don’t think I’m a cartoon—she thinks I’m the last thing she’ll ever see before I drive my ghost-powered station wagon through her haunted igloo and suplex her through the fourth dimension!

I got a cybernetic arm, pal. That ain’t from some doodle pad—that’s from a plasma-breathin’ robo-lich that tried to rewrite reality in 2003. It didn’t go well for him. But it did go well for me and America.

So go on—keep callin’ me a cartoon. But just remember this: next time you hear somethin’ go bump in the night, that ain’t your imagination. That’s just me, Hoss Delgado, trackin’ down the unnatural with nothin’ but my wits, my gut instinct, and my haunted moustache compass.

Now if you’ll excuse me… I got a date with a chupacabra and a two-by-four.

HYA-HAW!!!