We're just kidding about that last part. You don't have to be worried about being brutalized because of your horn. We guarantee no one will ever dare to touch you again after seeing it.
I'm Scared. How Scared Should I Be?
Think of the horns as a pop-up turkey timer. When one erupts from the otherwise placid surroundings--DING!--sir, your malignant melanoma is (probably) ready. In truth, over 60 percent of the lesions are benign, but 100 percent of the lesions are still associated with "Eww." Luckily, unlike other cancers with nondescript symptoms, odds are pretty good you'll find your way to a dermatologist tout suite when you start growing a fucking horn.
Try to look on the bright side. It may give you a distinct advantage when mating season arrives and you must demonstrate your alpha-rhino status in the herd.
Man, How Much Does Your Body Hate You?
For the purposes of this article, your body's loathing of you was quantified in the standard metric of kilojoules. However, since this is not readily relatable for most laypersons, we have a rough illustration for each measurement. The scale goes from absolute zero (approximately how much Mother Teresa despised the laughter of children frolicking with puppies) to 100 kilojoules (the theoretical bounds of hate as defined by Mr. T confronted with jibba-jabba).
= As much as we quietly despise Hugh Hefner for not adopting us, despite our many letters.