cewche cewchie cooooo🤗🤗🤗🤗
A young man stands in his bedroom. It just so happens that today, the 13th of April, 2009, is this young man's birthday. Though it was thirteen years ago he was given life, it is only today he will be given a name!
What will the name of this young man be?
Your name is JOHN. As was previously mentioned it is your BIRTHDAY. A number of CAKES are scattered about your room. You have a variety of INTERESTS. You have a passion for REALLY TERRIBLE MOVIES. You like to program computers but you are NOT VERY GOOD AT IT. You have a fondness for PARANORMAL LORE, and are an aspiring AMATEUR MAGICIAN. You also like to play GAMES sometimes.
What will you do?
Your ARMS are in your MAGIC CHEST, pooplord!
Out of sympathy for John's perceived lack of arms, you pick up the CAKE for him and put it on his BED.
You retrieve your FAKE ARMS from the chest. You use these for HILARIOUS ANTICS.
You CAPTCHALOGUE them in your SYLLADEX. You have no idea what that actually means though.
There are other items in the chest.
In here you keep an array of humorous and mystical ARTIFACTS, each one a devastating weapon in the hands of a SKILLED MAGICIAN or a CUNNING PRANKSTER.
You are neither of these things.
Among the ARTIFACTS are: TWO (2) FAKE ARMS [CURRENTLY CAPTCHALOGUED IN YOUR SYLLADEX], ONE (1) PAIR OF TRICK HANDCUFFS, ONE (1) STUNT SWORD, ONE (1) MAGICIAN'S HAT, ONE (1) PAIR OF BEAGLE PUSS GLASSES, SEVERAL (~) SMOKE PELLETS, SEVERAL (~) BLOOD CAPSULES, and ONE (1) COPY OF COLONEL SASSACRE'S DAUNTING TEXT OF MAGICAL FRIVOLITY AND PRACTICAL JAPERY, and ONE (1) COPY OF HARRY ANDERSON'S "WISE GUY", BY MIKE CAVENEY.
Some of this stuff may come in handy at some point. For now, you decide to just take the SMOKE PELLETS.
You stow the SMOKE PELLETS on one of your CAPTCHALOGUE CARDS in your SYLLADEX.
You still aren't totally sure what that means, but you are starting to get the hang of the vernacular at least.
You have two empty CAPTCHALOGUE CARDS remaining.
You aren't totally sure if "EQUIP" is a verb copasetic with the abstract behavioral medium in which you dwell, but you give it a try anyway.
Unfortunately, you cannot access the FAKE ARMS! Their card is underneath the one you just used to captchalogue the SMOKE PELLETS. You will have to use the pellets first in order to access the arms. But this is probably unadvisable, since you'd just make your room lousy with smoke!
Your SYLLADEX'S FETCH MODUS is currently dictated by the logic of a STACK DATA STRUCTURE. You were never all that great with data structures and you find the concept puzzling and mildly irritating.
But with any hope, perhaps you will advance new, more practical FETCH MODI for your SYLLADEX with a little more experience.
Is it even possible to get any more hard boiled than that? You really doubt it. This poster was one of your wisest purchases.
There is a nice spot on the wall next to it. You've been meaning to hang another poster there soon.
This note is rich with the aromas of FATHERLY AFTERSHAVES AND COLOGNES.
Beside the note is a ROLLED UP POSTER.
Another BIRTHDAY ARTIFACT. You wonder what is printed on the poster.
You'll need some way to hang it on your wall.
You first place the HAMMER into your SYLLADEX.
But now all of your CAPTCHALOGUE CARDS are full. You wonder what will happen if you try to take the NAILS?
You guess it doesn't hurt to try.
You captchalogue FOUR (4) NAILS into the top card, and push all the ARTIFACTS down a card.
The FAKE ARMS are pushed entirely out of the deck!!!
Oh well. They're probably completely useless anyway. But you probably don't want to do that again, unless you want to drop the SMOKE PELLETS and suffer the consequences.
In any case, you now feel like you have gathered enough things to get down to business and do some really important stuff. The next thing you do will probably be exceptionally meaningful.
This is the dumbest idea you've had in weeks!!!
STUPID STUPID STUPID.
And yet the polished surface of your desk...
It beckons.
You MERGE the top two cards.
The HAMMER and NAILS are now captchalogued on the same card and can be used together.
You use the HAMMER and NAILS card IN CONJUNCTION with the card beneath it.
You use the HAMMER, NAILS, and POSTER on the blank space on the wall.
It's glorious. Exactly what you wanted. The old man really came through this time.
PUT THE BUNNY BACK IN THE BOX.
I SAID, PUT THE BUNNY BACK IN THE BOX.
WHY COULDN'T YOU PUT THE BUNNY BACK IN THE BOX?
Morgan Freeman's genteel, homespun mannerisms were perfect qualities for a president residing over a crisis.
OCEANS RISE. CITIES FALL. HOPE SURVIVES.
WOW.
Films about impending apocalypse fascinate you. Plus, a black president??? Now you've seen everything!
You've marked your birthday, the 13th of April. Another day you marked was supposed to be the arrival date for the highly touted SBURB BETA LAUNCH.
It's been three days already. It's starting to become a sore subject with you.
You are sick to death of cake!!! You've been eating it all day. And you have no intention of clogging your SYLLADEX with it either. The CAKE stays put for now.
You hear a notice from your COMPUTER. Someone is messaging you.
You pull up to your COMPUTER. This is where you spend most of your time. You decorated your desktop with some rather handsome WALLPAPER which you made yourself. You are really proud of it.
Your desktop is also littered with various PROGRAMMING PROJECT FILES. You are so bad at programming sometimes you wonder why you even bother with it.
Your PESTERCHUM application is flashing. Someone is trying to get in touch with you.
Only one of your CHUMS is logged in. He's sent you a message.
-- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 16:13 --
TG: hey so what sort of insane loot did you rake in today EB: i got a little monsters poster, it's so awesome. i'm going to watch it again today, the applejuice scene was so funny. TG: oh hell that is such a coincidence i just found an unopened container of apple juice in my closet it is like fucking christmas up in here EB: ok thats fine, but i just have one question and then a word of caution. have you ever seen a movie called little monsters starring howie mandel and fred savage? TG: but TG: the seal on the bottle is unbroken TG: are you suggesting someone put piss in my apple juice at the factory EB: all im saying is don't you think monster howie mandel has the power to do something as simple as reseal a bottle? EB: try using your brain numbnuts. TG: why did the fat kid or whoever drank it know what piss tasted like TG: i mean his reaction was nigh instantaneous EB: it was the 15th day in a row howie mandel peed in his juice. TG: ok i can accept that TG: monster B-list celebrity douchebags are cunning and persistent pranksters TG: also fred savage has a really punchable face TG: but who cares about this lets stop talking about it TG: did you get the beta yet EB: no. EB: did you? TG: man i got two copies already TG: but i dont care im not going to play it or anything the game sounds boring TG: did you see how it got slammed in game bro???? EB: game bro is a joke and we both know it. TG: yeah TG: why dont you go check your mail maybe its there now EB: alright.
You see the view of your yard from your window.
Hanging from the tree is your TIRE SWING. In a kid's yard, a tree without a tire swing is like a proper gentleman without a monocle. That is to say, HE CAN HARDLY BE CONSIDERED A TERRIBLY PROPER GENTLEMAN AT ALL.
And there beside your driveway is the mailbox.
The little red arm-swingy-dealy thing or whatever it is called is flipped up!
What the hell is that thing called anyway. You do not have time for these semantics. The red flippy-lever thing means you have new mail. And that means the beta might be here!
You are about to hurry down stairs when you hear a car pull into the driveway. It looks like your DAD has returned from the grocery store.
Oh great. He is beating you to the mail.
If you go down stairs to get it, he will likely monopolize hours of your time. You decide to chill out up here for a while until the dust settles.
Sometimes you feel like you are trapped in this room. Stuck, if you will, in a sense which possibly borders on the titular.
And now your chum is pestering you again. The clockwork of friendship turns ceaselessly, operating the swing-lever dealies of harassment in perpetuity!
Whatever. The dude can just hold his damn horses.
You've put countless manhours into this assortment of quality titles.
You decide to consult with the Colonel's bottomless wisdom. Good grief this thing is huge. It could kill a cat if you dropped it.
But to really dig into this hefty book, you will have to captchalogue it. You are not sure you are ready to logjam your other ARTIFACTS beneath it just yet.
What did you just say?? You don't want to clog up your...
Oh, Jesus. In a momentary lapse of concentration, you accidentally captchalogue the arms again.
You don't think the situation is quite dire enough to go all the way to "RANCOROUS", but you still feel the PESTERCHUM client should reflect your mood change in some way.
"BULLY" will have to do. You guess.
This unsurprisingly does nothing whatsoever.
Oh, right, you forgot your chum is still pestering you.
TG: is it there TG: plz say yes TG: maybe you can play with TT shes been pestering me all day about it TG: shes mackin on me so hard all the time i start to feel embarrassed for her TG: i mean not that i can blame her or anything EB: yes, it is understandable because you are really attractive. i am attracted to you. TG: thank you EB: jk haha. EB: no, i don't have it yet. EB: my dad has the mail and i guess i have to go get it from him and see if it's there. EB: and i've been busy spending all afternoon shitting around with my stupid sylladex. EB: it's so frustrating. TG: whats your modus EB: what? TG: how do you retrieve artifacts from it EB: oh. like one at a time i guess. and if i put too much in, something falls out. TG: stack?? hahahahahaha EB: what is yours? TG: hash map TG: my bro taught me a few tricks he basically knows everything and is awesome EB: what the hell is that? TG: you should probably brush up on your data structures EB: i guess. TG: did you at least allocate your strife specibus EB: no. TG: it could free up a card for you TG: plus let you attack stuff whenever things get too hot to handle TG: which is never TG: what have you got EB: well, i've got a hammer but it's trapped under some arms. TG: wow you really suck at this dont you TG: just get rid of the arms and then allocate the hammer to the specibus EB: how? TG: i dont know just use the arms on any old thing and see if it works
You stick the FAKE ARMS in the CAKE on your bed.
This definitely makes the CAKE at least 300% more hilarious. You're sure COLONEL SASSACRE would know the precise index of elevated hilarity.
You check the back of your STRIFE SPECIBUS for the KIND ABSTRATUS you have in mind for it.
Your STRIFE SPECIBUS has been ALLOCATED with the HAMMERKIND ABSTRATUS.
The HAMMER has been moved from your CAPTCHALOGUE DECK to your STRIFE DECK.
EB: ok, i did it. TG: hammerkind? EB: yeah. TG: ok that will be the permanent allocation for your specibus TG: i guess i should have mentioned that EB: uh... TG: hope you like hammers dude! EB: yeah, that's fine i guess. i can't imagine it's going to be all that relevant.
Now that you've got some space in your SYLLADEX to work with, you figure you might as well start squandering it immediately.
Ordinarily this ridiculous book would be way too heavy to carry around in any practical way. You guess maybe this is one respect in which the cards present some convenience.
It might come in handy if you ever need something that burns easily.
You expend your final card on the MAGICIAN'S HAT.
You don't have a free card in your SYLLADEX!
However, you are able to MERGE the BEAGLE PUSS with the MAGICIAN'S HAT to create a CLEVER DISGUISE.
John? Who is this "John" you speak of? You are quite certain there has never been, nor ever will be...
Yeah, this is a really shitty disguise.
While you are wearing the items, they remain on the card, but it is temporarily removed from the deck, thus freeing up the cards beneath it.
You exit into the HALLWAY.
On one wall hangs a picture of a fella who sure knows how to have a laugh, a man after your own heart. You always thought he looked a lot like Michael Cera. But your DAD swears on the many HALLOWED TOMBS of Egypt that it is not. You're not sure about that though.
On the other wall is one of your DAD'S stupid clowns. Or HARLEQUINS, as he is quick to correct anyone who would venture such brazen assumption.
The accursed odor of fresh baking wafts into your newfound nostrils. Something is brewing in the KITCHEN. It must be the connivings of your arch nemesis, BETTY CROCKER, and the rich, buttery aroma of her plot stinks to high heaven.
This mission is going to be more difficult than you imagined.
You check out the shelves of FANCIFUL HARLEQUINS.
Look at this fucking garbage. You hate this stuff. Funny is funny, but your DAD sure can be a real cornball.
Sometimes at night you pray for burglars.
A bright orange flame flickers in the FIREPLACE. It doesn't matter that it's April and not terribly chilly outside. In a home, a FIREPLACE needs a fire, because that's what FIREPLACE is for. A fire BELONGS in a FIREPLACE, dammit, cata(ptcha)gorically, at all times, without exception.
As domestic myth of unaccountable origin holds, a home borrows the spirit of the flame for as long as it makes a guest of it, much as the moon takes liberty with the sun's rays.
"The moon's an arrant thief, and her pale fire she snatches from the sun." -Mark Twain
You are almost certain Mark Twain said that.
It doesn't burn as quickly as you hoped.
Each GAMEBRO MAGAZINE is guaranteed to be printed on 40% recycled asbestos. For big ups to Mother Earth, yo.
You examine the SACRED URN containing your departed NANNA'S ASHES.
When your father gives her portrait a wistful glance now and then, you can tell it brings back painful memories. A tall bookshelf. A ladder. An unabridged COLONEL SASSACRE'S.
He never wants to talk about it.
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Haunted car au part 9
Previous Masterpost
“O, please tell me someone is close by?” Red Robin hissed into his comm.
“Batman and Signal are on the way, 6 blocks out.”
“Neat, see if they can use the 109th st entrance, I will try to lead my goons that way.”
“Rerouting their gps, stay safe RR.”
Tim wasn't sure how to stay safe with a bullet wound in his leg, and a few grazes across his body. Part of the job he supposes. He wasn't sure which god or entity was enjoying his struggle, but he would not hesitate to smack them in the face with his bō. Tim took a small breather after losing his followers for a moment. His leg has a hole, his arms couldn't keep a strong grip on his grapple, not that it really mattered. A goon got an extremely lucky shot and destroyed the thing. So, grounded, with a barely functioning leg, and about 15 goons, and if the leaders of the group didn't flee already, then them too, looking for him. Not great odds. Oracle said Batman and Signal were on their way, and hopefully heading to the street closest to him that would work for some form of ambush.
“I'll go out a bit early, they won't be expecting it. Nah, they only set up to catch Signal, you know, the meta. The meta that can all but shadow step like a freaking d&d character. Such a great plan Tim.” Tim had started to mutter to himself as he attempted to tie on a better bandage to his leg than the slap dash one he did while on the move. He was just done securing it when a goon appeared.
“I found some blood over here!”
Tim almost screamed expletives on par with Jason or Duke, but he had some self preservation.
“ETA, hopefully it's NOW?!” Tim growled onto the comms.
“We are set up Red Robin, bring them through.” Tim could have cried in relief at Batman's voice, but he had some goons to lead.
Tim ran, not bothering to hide as he did. Luckily the goons did not think about surrounding the alley he was in, and they followed blindly into the bat's trap. He trusted that Bruce and Duke could handle the group, and limped to the Batmobile. It wasn't until Tim got to the driver's side passenger door did the universe have one last laugh at him.
“Well, well, we'll. Let's make a deal, little red bird.” Out of all the people to corner Tim, it had to have been the wannabe leader of the small time gang.
“Depends, is the deal you turn yourself in?” Tim automatically snarked.
“Nah, open the Batmobile, or I shoot you here.” The man sneered.
“Fine, fine.” Tim opened the driver's door and scooted away, his hands away from his sides.
“Good, keep backing up Red.”
Once Red Robin was far enough for the man, he turned and went to get into the car, only for the door to close on the man repeatedly. Tim could not help but just watch as the car kept smacking the guy until he managed to get into the seat. Unfortunately for the gang leader his hand was not fast enough and got slammed between the door and frame. Based on the crack and responding scream, the hand was very much broken. With a last open and close, the engine started, and the Batmobile drove straight into the group of goons and vigilantes.
Tim watched in morbid curiosity as Batman and Signal heard the car roaring towards them. Watched as they grappled upwards with just a small moment from them getting run over. Watched as 3 goons did not have time to move out of the way and got tossed onto the hood, only to slide off at the jerky stop of the car. It wasn't until Batman barked “Report.” over the comms did Tim snap out of his daze.
“The leader of the gang got into the Batmobile, and proceeded to try to run you guys over.” Tim slowly responded. “He held me at gunpoint and I couldn't move fast enough to do anything but let him. How did the failsafes fail at keeping him from driving?” Tim's voice petered out with the question.
The car door then slammed open and the leader fell out of the seat, and tried to scramble as far from the car as he could. It didn't take long for Batman to grab the man for questioning.
“Hey man, you good to move?” Tim startled when Duke appeared in front of him.
“Ya, ya. I have a GSW to my right calf, got grazed a few times in different places, possibly going into shock.” Tim dutifully reported.
“Got it, up and at ‘em.”
Duke carefully walked Tim to the Batmobile and settled him into the back seats, tightened the bandage on his leg, and put bandages on his other wounds. It wasn't until Duke went to go help Batman clean up and triage the remaining goons did he say something strange.
“Stay put, Red Robin. Keep him safe ok?” With the second request, Duke patted the driver's seat and left him alone in the car.
“What?”
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