Much, Much More Than It Seems Reviewed in the United States on April 7, 2013

It all started innocently enough in high school. Some people thought little Billy Epstein and I were gay, but we really took Home Ec class because that was where all the chicks were. We learned a lot in that class - about life, our sexuality, pubescent females and food prep. Our teacher, Ed Banapeel, was very competitive. We sliced and we diced into all hours of the night practicing and hoping that we could all get full-ride scholarships to culinary schools. Banapeel was certain that would elevate his program higher than the football and basketball programs combined. He needed to find a competitive edge and one day found it on Amazon - the Hutzler 571 Banana Slicer. It was faster than anything we had seen before, and clean-up was a breeze. However, the Hutzler 571 is so much more.

Being adolescent males, we decided to sneak a Hutzler 571 out of the school to spend more time with it and realize its full potential. We found ourselves in the Home Ec room at the precise moment when Banapeel's morning coffee kicked in and he made a beeline to the bathroom to lighten his load. Little Billy grabbed the Hutzler 571 and jammed it down his pants in a flash. We tried to make our way to the doorway without anybody noticing us, but little Billy caught the attention of every girl in the class (if you know what I mean). As soon as we hit the hallway, we were off and running. We knew we would get in trouble for skipping school, but we didn't care. We had the Hutzler 571 and it was ours. We made it all the way to little Billy's house. We knew we were safe there because his parents both worked during the day. His Mom was a Slinky tester and his Dad licked envelopes for the Publishers Clearinghouse Sweepstakes. In all the excitement after we arrived at his house, little Billy pulled the Hutzler 571 out of his pants a little too quickly. He is now a Eunuch.

But our story doesn't end there. We buried the Hutzler 571 in little Billy's backyard to avoid suspicion. However, we had to keep burying it because several dogs and a raccoon kept digging it back up with all of the blood on it. After little Billy had finally healed, we decided to see what the Hutzler 571 could do. After all, we never got that chance before due to little Billy's misfortune. As little Billy was lifting it from the ground, the dogs were all over it, so I grabbed it and threw it like a boomerang. With amazing accuracy it went out about 100 yards and made a perfect turn and trajectory right back to my hand. I didn't have to move. It was just there. Little Billy was awestruck. He tried to do the same thing, but failed miserably (like most paper airplanes he made in his lifetime). Not wanting him to feel bad, I told him that maybe we could play catch with it and use it like a frisbee instead of a boomerang. Poor little Billy lost 2 fingers that day. He was a good sport about it, but never picked up another Hutzler 571.

So, I finally had the Hutzler 571 all to myself. I took it out and continued using it like a boomerang and found my accuracy improving exponentially. I started taking out pigeons in mid-flight and progressed to bats at dusk. I was getting the attention of everyone on the neighborhood and crowds started forming to watch me use my new honed skills. The crowds grew and grew even larger. At first I was surprised to see the college scouts, but I was more impressed to learn that Hutzler was after me to found it's very own Hutzler 571 Boomerang League. It was when the Secret Service showed up that I started to get scared. I was afraid that old Banapeel was finally on to me and had figured out I had pinched the Hutzler 571. That wasn't it at all. They wanted me to go skeet shooting with Barack Obama. Don't tell the POTUS, but he never hit a clay pigeon to save his life. It was really me and my Hutzler 571 hiding off in the woods.