Giraldo Bismarck, 35-year-old largely oversized Lincoln native, grew up in the cold, hardened public schooling system — a system run by bullies, stuck-up parents and bitch-ass teachers. Such a hostile environment became a feeding frenzy for those who sought it necessary to beat down on the chubby youngster.

Until the fourth grade, Bismarck found himself being an easy target for these sick freaks. “Fatty McFatterson, Largey McLargerson and Biggster McBiggumson,” they would all call him, as he was, again, a noticeably round boy.

Then, one day, he decided to do something about it.

“I figured they can’t hunt down what they can’t find,” Bismarck said. “So, like a young peccary from South America, I sought it best to seek protection in the form of the vegetation surrounding me.”

From that day forward, wherever Bismarck would go, he would shelter himself behind the cover of the vascular, Costa Rican native potted plant: the fern. And it worked.

Though dwarfed by comparison, the fern served as adequate cover for the youthful, large boy.

“I was honestly as surprised as anyone,” Bismarck said. “It’s obvious that it’s me behind the fern.”

Yet, those damned fools never spotted the sprung gut, Bismarck. Its effectiveness in his younger years proved so useful, he continues doing it to this day. Lugging around fern after fern with him throughout the entirety of his travels to avoid mean comments that most definitely had to of died down after high school.

“You can never be too careful. It’s when you don’t expect them, they become the most dangerous,” Bismarck said, shifting his eyes to the left and right, remaining keenly aware of his surroundings. “I know this might seem excessive, but the fern has become a part of my life, it is who I am and who I was always destined to be.”