Meat Bun T-shirt Being Explained to Everyone at Party
Friday, 03/12/10

How many times did this conversation about the t-shirt take place over the course of the two and a half hour party in Sheila’s backyard? A dozen times, at least. Friends, family, the hired help – no one was spared the explanation. Those who made the mistake of lingering near the drink table rarely returned, and those who did did so hastily, as if a horde of wild animals was about to stampede through and there was only two minutes to pour a vodka cranberry.

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“I’d Be In a Much Harder Game Right Now if My Agent Wasn’t a Worthless Piece of Shit,” by Valrox, Secret Boss

Tuesday, October 27, 2009

Demon

Muhahahahaha! You have made a grave mistake entering my lair, adventurers!

My name is Valrox, Eater of Worlds, and for ten millennia I have been trapped in this dank, dark antechamber, conserving my powers, awaiting those who would be foolish enough to set me free! Soon I will destroy your pitiful homeland and–

Wait. Stop. Sorry. I can’t do this. Come on! Look at you guys! What level are you? 23? 24? You look like you just wandered out of the Name Your Character screen. Look at this guy — he’s still wearing the belt he bought in his starter town. What’s the frost resistance on that thing, buddy? Yeah, that’s what I thought.

(Sigh.)

Look… I’m glad you found me – you did a lot of clever trades and did a lot of backtracking to get the rune stone that unlocks my dungeon – but we all know you aren’t supposed to be here yet. Go fight a pack of floating eyeballs or something.

Seriously. Go away. Level up.

Okay. You want me to tell you how this is going to go down? I will. You’ll cast regen or something retarded, I’ll summon a spawn of demons and annihilate half your party without even blinking. Then, I don’t know, I’ll probably finish this dude with the spikey hair with a seven-digit crystal blast.

Does that sound like something you want to get into?

I’m an asshole? You’re the assholes.  I’m giving you guys a chance not to get  slaughtered. I mean, I’ll still do it later, but I wouldn’t want to until one of you at least has an ultimate weapon.

Look at me. I’ve got a carapace. You’ve got a wooden stick. Do the math.

I already feel bad enough that I have to be in this stupid game, no offense. The only reason I’m here is because my agent is a worthless piece of shit. I told him that I wanted challenging work and this is what he sent me out on.

“It’s a wider audience, Val,” he said. “Broad doesn’t mean bad.”

What an asshole! I mean, look at you guys. You’re dressed in pastels! Is that so you can keep track of each other in dungeons? God, I fucking hope so.

I don’t want to sound elitist, but I’m twenty-six-thousand years old. Your world is great and all and totally worth destroying, but I’ve been around since the beginning of time. The Beginning of Time. I should be doing end boss work, not sitting around in this room, being…optional.

You know what? I’m just going to leave. I know it’s unprofessional and I could lose my guild card, but I can’t do this anymore. If I have to fight another mage who is still using level one cures, I’m going to kill myself.

You can plunder the chest. It’s just a some gold coins and a shitload of silly costume. God, you guys are fucking lame.