budgieboo
And they said it changes when the sun goes down
[COLOR= rgb(152, 157, 160)]--->[Wait in line for free stuff][/COLOR]
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Multiple Settings "Whoopsie-Doodle! Looks Like I Went to Hell!": Chapter 1 of Against Her Tendrils
- Thread starter Hush Hush Storytime
- Start date
Hush Hush Storytime
A Friendly Ear
With 100% (3/3) of the vote!
You cautiously walk over to the "Legitimate" "Clothes" stand. It turns out that the line of people here is actually an extension of the Churro line, so this booth is gloriously devoid of any people! You can only hope that means you get even more free things! The stand is actually rather sparse in it's merchandise offerings. Several fold up plastic tables display cheap looking bracelets, hairpins, and other tawdry garbage. From the tarp above you, several T-shirts hangs on a wire, all of them the exact same gunmetal grey, emblazoned with a crude drawing of a closed monkey's paw, and the following text:
"I MADE THREE POORLY ADVISED WISHES
AND ALL I GOT WAS THIS T-SHIRT"
Near the back of the stand, an extremely portly demon sits, facing away from you, watching a tiny CRT television screen that must be, at most, 4 inches wide. You squint, hoping that he has such a discrete screen to watch something real racy...Nope, it's just The Flintstones in Viva Rock Vegas. You have to admire hell for it's consistency at least. You cough, hoping to get the demon's attention. He slowly cranes his neck back towards you, generating several new fold of fat in his shoulders. You make a disgusted face that he clearly picks up on:
"Don't even say anything. What do you want?"
"The signs says free things, and I am just, all about real deep discounts."
"Yeah, we spin the wheel for a lucky customer every hour."
"It doesn't look like you have any customers."
"Then I think it would behoove you to become a customer in the next.." He glances at a delicate plastic wristwatch on his bulging wrist.
"...three minutes."
"Alright, Cool. How much are those T-Shirts?"
"$40. But we also only have mediums right now, so--"
"Yeah, okay I've heard quite enough about that today already. What about this crap?" The demon scowls as you gesture towards the table full of jewelry.
"Lady, that is some of the finest jewelry in all of Gehenna, and they go for thousands of dollars a piece."
"You seem to be set up in the wrong part of town. I don't think anyone is going to pay for this overpriced junk."
The demon grins.
"Oh, no one usually does. But, you could win one if you're a customer, and you get to spin...THE WHEEL!"
He stands up slowly, and reveals a multicolored plywood wheel. Most of the sections are labeled with different products in the booth.
"And Lady, you just gotta buy anything to get to spin the wheel."
"Alright, alright, what have you got for..."
You scrounge around in your pockets for change. You pull out some assorted change, coated in old donut glaze, and laboriously count them.
"...89 cents?"
The demon immediately slams a hefty hairpin onto the table, and lifts up his greasy hand. The pin itself is unremarkable, but the decorative bit is a rather large, stylized skull.
"This is our best budget option. This is a hairpin made from the skulls of a thousand lying rulers and politicians, forged into one shimmering symbol of corruption, it--"
"Holy shit, that sounds metal as fuck, I'll take it!"
You throw the change at the demon, and jam the pin into the back of your hair. I mean, it was pretty cute after all. You would have probably got it even without that description. As you run your hands down your hair, a shiver runs down your spine. The demon coughs quietly, and continues.
"As I was saying, while it is a truly impressive piece of craftsmanship, it also extremely cursed, thus the deep discount."
You exhale a puff of air. "Yeah, okay, like that'll come back to bite me later."
The demon chuckles. "Very well Miss, it's been a pleasure doing business...but now...it's time to SPIN THE WHEEL!!!" He ushers you over to the wheel. You clasp your hands excitedly, and give it a spin. It clicks rapidly, and seems to spin for ages.You bite your tongue in excitement.
You love free stuff.
You love free expensive stuff.
The wheel slowly clatters to a stop, landing on...
--->The large red section that says "FREE T-SHIRT"
---> The small green section that says "FREE BROACH"
--->The small blue section that says "FREE TICKETS"
---> The tiny yellow section that says "FREE LIFE ADVICE"
You cautiously walk over to the "Legitimate" "Clothes" stand. It turns out that the line of people here is actually an extension of the Churro line, so this booth is gloriously devoid of any people! You can only hope that means you get even more free things! The stand is actually rather sparse in it's merchandise offerings. Several fold up plastic tables display cheap looking bracelets, hairpins, and other tawdry garbage. From the tarp above you, several T-shirts hangs on a wire, all of them the exact same gunmetal grey, emblazoned with a crude drawing of a closed monkey's paw, and the following text:
"I MADE THREE POORLY ADVISED WISHES
AND ALL I GOT WAS THIS T-SHIRT"
Near the back of the stand, an extremely portly demon sits, facing away from you, watching a tiny CRT television screen that must be, at most, 4 inches wide. You squint, hoping that he has such a discrete screen to watch something real racy...Nope, it's just The Flintstones in Viva Rock Vegas. You have to admire hell for it's consistency at least. You cough, hoping to get the demon's attention. He slowly cranes his neck back towards you, generating several new fold of fat in his shoulders. You make a disgusted face that he clearly picks up on:
"Don't even say anything. What do you want?"
"The signs says free things, and I am just, all about real deep discounts."
"Yeah, we spin the wheel for a lucky customer every hour."
"It doesn't look like you have any customers."
"Then I think it would behoove you to become a customer in the next.." He glances at a delicate plastic wristwatch on his bulging wrist.
"...three minutes."
"Alright, Cool. How much are those T-Shirts?"
"$40. But we also only have mediums right now, so--"
"Yeah, okay I've heard quite enough about that today already. What about this crap?" The demon scowls as you gesture towards the table full of jewelry.
"Lady, that is some of the finest jewelry in all of Gehenna, and they go for thousands of dollars a piece."
"You seem to be set up in the wrong part of town. I don't think anyone is going to pay for this overpriced junk."
The demon grins.
"Oh, no one usually does. But, you could win one if you're a customer, and you get to spin...THE WHEEL!"
He stands up slowly, and reveals a multicolored plywood wheel. Most of the sections are labeled with different products in the booth.
"And Lady, you just gotta buy anything to get to spin the wheel."
"Alright, alright, what have you got for..."
You scrounge around in your pockets for change. You pull out some assorted change, coated in old donut glaze, and laboriously count them.
"...89 cents?"
The demon immediately slams a hefty hairpin onto the table, and lifts up his greasy hand. The pin itself is unremarkable, but the decorative bit is a rather large, stylized skull.
"This is our best budget option. This is a hairpin made from the skulls of a thousand lying rulers and politicians, forged into one shimmering symbol of corruption, it--"
"Holy shit, that sounds metal as fuck, I'll take it!"
You throw the change at the demon, and jam the pin into the back of your hair. I mean, it was pretty cute after all. You would have probably got it even without that description. As you run your hands down your hair, a shiver runs down your spine. The demon coughs quietly, and continues.
"As I was saying, while it is a truly impressive piece of craftsmanship, it also extremely cursed, thus the deep discount."
You exhale a puff of air. "Yeah, okay, like that'll come back to bite me later."
The demon chuckles. "Very well Miss, it's been a pleasure doing business...but now...it's time to SPIN THE WHEEL!!!" He ushers you over to the wheel. You clasp your hands excitedly, and give it a spin. It clicks rapidly, and seems to spin for ages.You bite your tongue in excitement.
You love free stuff.
You love free expensive stuff.
The wheel slowly clatters to a stop, landing on...
--->The large red section that says "FREE T-SHIRT"
---> The small green section that says "FREE BROACH"
--->The small blue section that says "FREE TICKETS"
---> The tiny yellow section that says "FREE LIFE ADVICE"
Deucalion
Firebringer
--->The small blue section that says "FREE TICKETS"
budgieboo
And they said it changes when the sun goes down
---> The small green section that says "FREE BROACH"
oh boy more cursed stuff
oh boy more cursed stuff
marorda
Oddball and author
This.
Hush Hush Storytime
A Friendly Ear
With 66%(2/3) of the vote!
The wheel slowly grinds to a stop, and you hold your breath, knuckles clenched. You remember what that one demon said about Hell just being an endless series of disappointments, and as the wheel slows, you can see why that might be: That "Free T-Shirt" section is absolutely huge. You relax your fingers and sigh, as you surely get ready to accept some stupid T-Shirt. I mean, you liked it and everything, but you were hoping to win something a little more extravagant. Well at least it's nowhere near the free life advice section.
click. click. click.
click. click.
click...
What's this?
The spinner gently skids to a stop, outside of the red section, and squarely into the green. Free broach? "Aw, Hell yeah! Everything's coming up Ire--Josie!" You clap your hands excitedly and look expectantly towards the demon, who fishes out a metal tackle box, and plops it onto the table. It buckles open, revealing a treasure trove of bottle caps and discarded litter. You sneer.
"What the hell is this?"
The demon snorts. "Your free broach."
You wildly gesture at the display of expensive doodads in front of you. In response, the demon moves a minuscule sign into view, previously hidden by a large toe ring. It says:
"NONE OF THE DISPLAYED ARE AVAILABLE FROM FREE PLAY"
This is ridiculous. The sign is no bigger than your middle finger nail. In order to compare, you offer the demon your middle finger nail. "Come on lady, don't get feisty, just pick out one of your fabulous prizes!" You groan and rummage through the trash box. After the initial layer of cheap trash broaches, it's clear that most of this box isn't even broaches. You cock an eyebrow.
"Wait, so I can have anything from this box?" The demon doesn't seem to be paying much attention, as his head is turned towards Hell's premiere cinema. "Yeah, sure, lady. Any single thing you want." You happily nod to yourself. This bloated idiot clearly didn't think his scheme through. It's not a wise idea for the bottom shelf of one's prize box to double as the cash register. You scoop up the fat stack of twenties, and carefully place the lid back down. I mean, it's bundled up, so it is technically a single thing. I mean, you're not a thief, Irene.
You quietly click your tongue.
Well, not a thief today at least. You shove the cash into your jean pockets, and slowly back away.
Look like it's time...
--->"...to put some real high roller bets down in the Murder-Pit!"
--->"...to throw one hell of a party!"
--->"...to wisely invest into my bank account" Pfft, like she's going to do that.
--->"...to pick up some designer Underworld drugs!"
---> "...for Reader's choice?"
The wheel slowly grinds to a stop, and you hold your breath, knuckles clenched. You remember what that one demon said about Hell just being an endless series of disappointments, and as the wheel slows, you can see why that might be: That "Free T-Shirt" section is absolutely huge. You relax your fingers and sigh, as you surely get ready to accept some stupid T-Shirt. I mean, you liked it and everything, but you were hoping to win something a little more extravagant. Well at least it's nowhere near the free life advice section.
click. click. click.
click. click.
click...
What's this?
The spinner gently skids to a stop, outside of the red section, and squarely into the green. Free broach? "Aw, Hell yeah! Everything's coming up Ire--Josie!" You clap your hands excitedly and look expectantly towards the demon, who fishes out a metal tackle box, and plops it onto the table. It buckles open, revealing a treasure trove of bottle caps and discarded litter. You sneer.
"What the hell is this?"
The demon snorts. "Your free broach."
You wildly gesture at the display of expensive doodads in front of you. In response, the demon moves a minuscule sign into view, previously hidden by a large toe ring. It says:
"NONE OF THE DISPLAYED ARE AVAILABLE FROM FREE PLAY"
This is ridiculous. The sign is no bigger than your middle finger nail. In order to compare, you offer the demon your middle finger nail. "Come on lady, don't get feisty, just pick out one of your fabulous prizes!" You groan and rummage through the trash box. After the initial layer of cheap trash broaches, it's clear that most of this box isn't even broaches. You cock an eyebrow.
"Wait, so I can have anything from this box?" The demon doesn't seem to be paying much attention, as his head is turned towards Hell's premiere cinema. "Yeah, sure, lady. Any single thing you want." You happily nod to yourself. This bloated idiot clearly didn't think his scheme through. It's not a wise idea for the bottom shelf of one's prize box to double as the cash register. You scoop up the fat stack of twenties, and carefully place the lid back down. I mean, it's bundled up, so it is technically a single thing. I mean, you're not a thief, Irene.
You quietly click your tongue.
Well, not a thief today at least. You shove the cash into your jean pockets, and slowly back away.
Look like it's time...
--->"...to put some real high roller bets down in the Murder-Pit!"
--->"...to throw one hell of a party!"
--->"...
--->"...to pick up some designer Underworld drugs!"
---> "...for Reader's choice?"
Deucalion
Firebringer
--->"...to put some real high roller bets down in the Murder-Pit!"
Our new goal is now to become the richest person in Hell.
Our new goal is now to become the richest person in Hell.
marorda
Oddball and author
I like this idea a lot. Best case: we're rich. Worst case: we're broke again.
But maybe we should get some good food first? (which would be a Reader's Choice thing. Can we have both?)
budgieboo
And they said it changes when the sun goes down
seconded, we should be able to get the best quality grub before we spend everything else on betting. can't gamble on an empty stomach??
Hush Hush Storytime
A Friendly Ear
With 100%(3/3) of the vote...
You pat at the thick wad of cash in your rear pocket. This gives you a lot more options down here in Hell, but you know it's not going to last forever. I mean, you were not the most financially responsible person when you were alive, and you can't honestly say that you've had an epiphany yet regarding all of your terrible decisions. Your eyes drift to the Murder-Pit. Well, that'd be an easy way to fatten your wallet. I mean, all you have to do is put it all down on the guy who looks like he would be the most comfortable in a terrible nightmare. You ran something very similar to this when you were alive, when you handled the betting of the freshman fight club. I mean, you also completely worked those numbers over, but some of those skills should transfer at least.
There is a prolonged growl from your stomach. Alright, that's fair. You haven't had an actual meal since you got down here. Just whatever garbage you could shove down your gullet. You apprehensively eye the Churro stand, but you imagine that the blood level in your sugar stream is already dangerously low. You slowly amble around the plaza, hoping to run into a nice eatery. Sure enough, as you turn the corner, several options present themselves.
--->The joint closest to you is "Pol-Pot's-Pot-Luck". You're not sure how pot lucks works in this setting.
---> Directly across from that is "Benito Musso-Tortellini!". It's advertised as an all you can eat pasta place.
---> A little further down is "Dexys Midnight Snack Run" It's slogan seems to be: "The Terminus of All Bad Decisions!"
You pat at the thick wad of cash in your rear pocket. This gives you a lot more options down here in Hell, but you know it's not going to last forever. I mean, you were not the most financially responsible person when you were alive, and you can't honestly say that you've had an epiphany yet regarding all of your terrible decisions. Your eyes drift to the Murder-Pit. Well, that'd be an easy way to fatten your wallet. I mean, all you have to do is put it all down on the guy who looks like he would be the most comfortable in a terrible nightmare. You ran something very similar to this when you were alive, when you handled the betting of the freshman fight club. I mean, you also completely worked those numbers over, but some of those skills should transfer at least.
There is a prolonged growl from your stomach. Alright, that's fair. You haven't had an actual meal since you got down here. Just whatever garbage you could shove down your gullet. You apprehensively eye the Churro stand, but you imagine that the blood level in your sugar stream is already dangerously low. You slowly amble around the plaza, hoping to run into a nice eatery. Sure enough, as you turn the corner, several options present themselves.
--->The joint closest to you is "Pol-Pot's-Pot-Luck". You're not sure how pot lucks works in this setting.
---> Directly across from that is "Benito Musso-Tortellini!". It's advertised as an all you can eat pasta place.
---> A little further down is "Dexys Midnight Snack Run" It's slogan seems to be: "The Terminus of All Bad Decisions!"
marorda
Oddball and author
---> Directly across from that is "Benito Musso-Tortellini!". It's advertised as an all you can eat pasta place.
Pasta is love, pasta is life!
(also, lols at the blood level in the sugar stream XD)
Pasta is love, pasta is life!
(also, lols at the blood level in the sugar stream XD)
budgieboo
And they said it changes when the sun goes down
---> Directly across from that is "Benito Musso-Tortellini!". It's advertised as an all you can eat pasta place.
Hush Hush Storytime
A Friendly Ear
With 100%(2/2) of the vote!
You nod to no one in particular. Glorious, glorious pasta has always served you well, and now even in death, it will provide comfort. You walk towards the eatery. Beyond it's elaborate signage, the place looks a bit run down. You wouldn't be able to put your finger on a single problem in particular, but it's clearly not the classiest joint.
Well, you suppose it very well could be the classiest joint. You muse over the menu. The bulk of the menu is the section listed as "Belial Busters" Which is the advertised all you can eat pastas. There's a thin border of red text running all along the edges of the menu, and you assume it's some sort of terrible fine print. You squint, hoping to make sure the price isn't something absurd, like "exactly eighty-three more cents than you will ever have." After several seconds of sustained reading, you discover that the print is actually just advertisements. If they hide something sinister in there, then they probably deserve to ensnare your soul. I mean, that's ambition!
You tap thoughtfully at your chin, and muse to yourself, "Yeah, I guess the Occhi di Perdition sounds good." There is a rustle in your hair, and a cracking voice, like nails skipping across a chalkboard, whines next to your ear, "No, I demand big succulent noodles, fit for a king!"
You are used to weird little goblins whispering in your ear about food, but that's usually after you're extremely intoxicated. This is a new one. You twirl a finger through your hair, and look around for the source of the voice, "Well, I mean, that's your choice man, we're not sharing a table or anything?" The voice continues, still right next to your ear, "Of course we are, you impertinent clown-woman!" You sneer, increasingly confused, "I don't know where you get off calling me a clown-woman, you...clown man!" A paragon of wit as usual, Irene. There is a sharp exhalation of air by your ear, as the man sighs. Well, that confirms it. This must be the stupid curse. A talking hairpin. Fairly benign, all things considered. You run your fingers over the hairpin, and the teeth nip at your fingers. You tank your fingers away reflexively, and suck on them.
"Don't run your filthy sausages across my mouth!"
You remove your fingers from your mouth, and wipe them against your shirt. "How many times do you say that on a daily basis?"
"Hopefully never again if you'll be a good porter to me."
"Porter?"
"Of course. Now, deliver me to the next land so I may savor the taste of victory!"
"Nah, I'd rather savor the taste of pasta. Anyway, novelty is over. I can get this off, yeah?"
"No, you shall--"
You grip at the base of the hairpin, only to find that it's firmly clasped onto your hair, with no means of removal. The hairpin notices this, and begins to cackle. You put your hands on your hips and try to roll your eyes at it. It's difficult without being able to make eye contact.
"You know, I can just cut my hair."
"If you'd like to die! Your hair is now your very mortal coil! Sever my life, sever yours!"
You let out a single chuckle. "So what, I'll be super dead? That sounds super...stupid."
Boy you really do need some food in you, you're falling apart.
"Hush steed! Deliver me to the weak willed! Let me break their failing constitutions, their flimsy morals! Watch them fall to their knees, and hear me cry victorious: "He comes! He comes! Chester the Magnificent!"
You scrunch up your face. "First: Gross. Second: Chester? Boy, when I am a little more properly charged, I am going to have a field day with that."
"Enough squabble woman! Deliver me to conquest!
"Nah, I'm delivering us to dinner. You don't have feet, so you don't get a say in this thing. That's how democracy works, no feet, no service."
Your grade in Government was very apt.
Chester pipes up, with a cocksure tone. "Oh, my dear woman, you wouldn't want to upset me. Especially not when--
--->"I can read your every little thought, you sniveling piglet."
--->"I now commandeer the motor control in your right arm, you indolent cow."
--->"I can inject a potent hallucinogen into you at any moment, you ditzy guttersnipe."
---
Apologies for the late response. My goal is to shoot for 4+ updates a week, but life throws wrinkles every now and then!
You nod to no one in particular. Glorious, glorious pasta has always served you well, and now even in death, it will provide comfort. You walk towards the eatery. Beyond it's elaborate signage, the place looks a bit run down. You wouldn't be able to put your finger on a single problem in particular, but it's clearly not the classiest joint.
Well, you suppose it very well could be the classiest joint. You muse over the menu. The bulk of the menu is the section listed as "Belial Busters" Which is the advertised all you can eat pastas. There's a thin border of red text running all along the edges of the menu, and you assume it's some sort of terrible fine print. You squint, hoping to make sure the price isn't something absurd, like "exactly eighty-three more cents than you will ever have." After several seconds of sustained reading, you discover that the print is actually just advertisements. If they hide something sinister in there, then they probably deserve to ensnare your soul. I mean, that's ambition!
You tap thoughtfully at your chin, and muse to yourself, "Yeah, I guess the Occhi di Perdition sounds good." There is a rustle in your hair, and a cracking voice, like nails skipping across a chalkboard, whines next to your ear, "No, I demand big succulent noodles, fit for a king!"
You are used to weird little goblins whispering in your ear about food, but that's usually after you're extremely intoxicated. This is a new one. You twirl a finger through your hair, and look around for the source of the voice, "Well, I mean, that's your choice man, we're not sharing a table or anything?" The voice continues, still right next to your ear, "Of course we are, you impertinent clown-woman!" You sneer, increasingly confused, "I don't know where you get off calling me a clown-woman, you...clown man!" A paragon of wit as usual, Irene. There is a sharp exhalation of air by your ear, as the man sighs. Well, that confirms it. This must be the stupid curse. A talking hairpin. Fairly benign, all things considered. You run your fingers over the hairpin, and the teeth nip at your fingers. You tank your fingers away reflexively, and suck on them.
"Don't run your filthy sausages across my mouth!"
You remove your fingers from your mouth, and wipe them against your shirt. "How many times do you say that on a daily basis?"
"Hopefully never again if you'll be a good porter to me."
"Porter?"
"Of course. Now, deliver me to the next land so I may savor the taste of victory!"
"Nah, I'd rather savor the taste of pasta. Anyway, novelty is over. I can get this off, yeah?"
"No, you shall--"
You grip at the base of the hairpin, only to find that it's firmly clasped onto your hair, with no means of removal. The hairpin notices this, and begins to cackle. You put your hands on your hips and try to roll your eyes at it. It's difficult without being able to make eye contact.
"You know, I can just cut my hair."
"If you'd like to die! Your hair is now your very mortal coil! Sever my life, sever yours!"
You let out a single chuckle. "So what, I'll be super dead? That sounds super...stupid."
Boy you really do need some food in you, you're falling apart.
"Hush steed! Deliver me to the weak willed! Let me break their failing constitutions, their flimsy morals! Watch them fall to their knees, and hear me cry victorious: "He comes! He comes! Chester the Magnificent!"
You scrunch up your face. "First: Gross. Second: Chester? Boy, when I am a little more properly charged, I am going to have a field day with that."
"Enough squabble woman! Deliver me to conquest!
"Nah, I'm delivering us to dinner. You don't have feet, so you don't get a say in this thing. That's how democracy works, no feet, no service."
Your grade in Government was very apt.
Chester pipes up, with a cocksure tone. "Oh, my dear woman, you wouldn't want to upset me. Especially not when--
--->"I can read your every little thought, you sniveling piglet."
--->"I now commandeer the motor control in your right arm, you indolent cow."
--->"I can inject a potent hallucinogen into you at any moment, you ditzy guttersnipe."
---
Apologies for the late response. My goal is to shoot for 4+ updates a week, but life throws wrinkles every now and then!
marorda
Oddball and author
[SIZE= 13px]--->"I can read your every little thought, you sniveling piglet."[/SIZE]
[SIZE= 13px]More fun! Blackmail! It knows we're not Josie![/SIZE]
[SIZE= 13px]More fun! Blackmail! It knows we're not Josie![/SIZE]
budgieboo
And they said it changes when the sun goes down
--->"I can inject a potent hallucinogen into you at any moment, you ditzy guttersnipe."
i dont know what a guttersnipe is but it sounds nothing pleasant
i dont know what a guttersnipe is but it sounds nothing pleasant
Hush Hush Storytime
A Friendly Ear
Tie vote! Rolling a d2 gives us...1! Giving us...
(This is the mind-reading choice, for those unable to highlight.)
You swallow. You hope that's just a bluff, because someone having a window into your mind would be extremely troubling. You voice your concerns.
"You're full of it!"
"Oh? Then why are you...hrm...concerned about people finding out your true identity, Irene?"
"Well shit."
You idly drum your fingers against your thigh. You're a bit cornered at the moment. You opt to better understand your situation.
"So, you want to conquest stuff?"
"Woman, as a verb, it is conquer, please, educate yourself."
"Conquer stuff?"
"Now, could you try it as a complete sentence?"
"Go fuck yourself."
"Bah! Well, no matter. Make yourself more cooperative or I will spill your deepest secrets out to the streets of Hell!"
"Alright, so what kind of stuff do you want to conquest?"
"I have told you that it's--bah! Civilizations, kingdoms!"
"Dude, we're in hell, so I don't know what your plan is."
"Become king of the underworld!"
"And what would that make me?"
"A well-cared for throne."
Well, at least there's a nice end game in store for you. You were always a fan of sitting after all. Still, you realize the more pertinent issue at hand.
"Hey, but I'm not going to be here very long. I'm supposed to be in Heaven."
"Pah! Pah! Every other thought of yours is gluttony, lewdness and degradation!"
"But if you put together every other thought, I'm actually pretty great."
Chester grumbles for a moment, "...No, upon further examination, every thought is terrible. Come, you'll do much better as a throne in Hell, than a fraud in Heaven."
A waiter finally approaches and leads you to a seat, practically tossing a menu at you. You're thankful that Chester didn't pipe up. You smile.
"So, I do get to have dinner? So charitable of you."
"This is merely a necessary evil. I cannot get enough leverage on you when all you're thinking about is food."
"Oh, man, do I have some bad news for you then: I never think about anything important."
"Fluff and nonsense! You'll crack!"
The waiter stops by once more, and you place your order. After he leaves, you kick your feet up on the table. Chester starts up again.
"So, what civilizations will we tumble? What spirits will we break?" A thought crosses your mind, but Chester intercepts before you can entertain it much further.
"Karol...I see your hatred for Karol. Let us break her into shards!"
You shrug "Yeah, okay, I can roll with that."
He cackles maniacally. "Yes! Yes! We can dilute her coffee!"
"Uh..."
"We can lower her chair by a few inches!"
"That's kinda..."
"What?!"
"Lame."
"Well what were you thinking?"
--->"How about an elaborate series of events that ends up with her being homeless?
---> "You're thinking too small. We should gaslight her until she doubts her sanity."
--->"I was kind of thinking we just straight up murder her."
(This is the mind-reading choice, for those unable to highlight.)
You swallow. You hope that's just a bluff, because someone having a window into your mind would be extremely troubling. You voice your concerns.
"You're full of it!"
"Oh? Then why are you...hrm...concerned about people finding out your true identity, Irene?"
"Well shit."
You idly drum your fingers against your thigh. You're a bit cornered at the moment. You opt to better understand your situation.
"So, you want to conquest stuff?"
"Woman, as a verb, it is conquer, please, educate yourself."
"Conquer stuff?"
"Now, could you try it as a complete sentence?"
"Go fuck yourself."
"Bah! Well, no matter. Make yourself more cooperative or I will spill your deepest secrets out to the streets of Hell!"
"Alright, so what kind of stuff do you want to conquest?"
"I have told you that it's--bah! Civilizations, kingdoms!"
"Dude, we're in hell, so I don't know what your plan is."
"Become king of the underworld!"
"And what would that make me?"
"A well-cared for throne."
Well, at least there's a nice end game in store for you. You were always a fan of sitting after all. Still, you realize the more pertinent issue at hand.
"Hey, but I'm not going to be here very long. I'm supposed to be in Heaven."
"Pah! Pah! Every other thought of yours is gluttony, lewdness and degradation!"
"But if you put together every other thought, I'm actually pretty great."
Chester grumbles for a moment, "...No, upon further examination, every thought is terrible. Come, you'll do much better as a throne in Hell, than a fraud in Heaven."
A waiter finally approaches and leads you to a seat, practically tossing a menu at you. You're thankful that Chester didn't pipe up. You smile.
"So, I do get to have dinner? So charitable of you."
"This is merely a necessary evil. I cannot get enough leverage on you when all you're thinking about is food."
"Oh, man, do I have some bad news for you then: I never think about anything important."
"Fluff and nonsense! You'll crack!"
The waiter stops by once more, and you place your order. After he leaves, you kick your feet up on the table. Chester starts up again.
"So, what civilizations will we tumble? What spirits will we break?" A thought crosses your mind, but Chester intercepts before you can entertain it much further.
"Karol...I see your hatred for Karol. Let us break her into shards!"
You shrug "Yeah, okay, I can roll with that."
He cackles maniacally. "Yes! Yes! We can dilute her coffee!"
"Uh..."
"We can lower her chair by a few inches!"
"That's kinda..."
"What?!"
"Lame."
"Well what were you thinking?"
--->"How about an elaborate series of events that ends up with her being homeless?
---> "You're thinking too small. We should gaslight her until she doubts her sanity."
--->"I was kind of thinking we just straight up murder her."
marorda
Oddball and author
[SIZE= 13px]---> "You're thinking too small. We should gaslight her until she doubts her sanity."[/SIZE]
[SIZE= 13px]Sneaky and evil. Making others doubt themselves and enjoy watching them humiliate themselves 3
[/SIZE]
[SIZE= 13px]Sneaky and evil. Making others doubt themselves and enjoy watching them humiliate themselves 3
[/SIZE]
Hush Hush Storytime
A Friendly Ear
With 100% (1/1) of the vote!...Oh bother, what happened to our diverse viewers?...
You idly tap at the table, "Look, I like what you're getting at, but I think it would be a lot more effective if we just did it, for, like, forever." There is a quiet rustling in your hair. Perhaps he is nodding in agreement? Or perhaps he is eating a strand of hair. You resolve to have future conversations with Chester in the mirror. Well, actually...
You polish a nearby glass with a napkin, and angle yourself to get a view of your very talkative headpiece. You can see Chester's teeth grinding!
"I don't see how that's dramatically different from what I was saying."
"No, we just do it over and over again, and really make her doubt everything."
"Hmmm..."
Green luminescent lights narrow in his eye sockets. Even if this is not the level of privacy you were hoping for, it does look pretty cool at least. I mean--"Well, that's very flattering. I'm glad you enjoy my appearance. I on the other hand, will opt to bite my tongue, woman." It's going to take a while to get used to the whole mind reading business. The waiter returns, and you order a large pasta plate. It probably had some sort of punny name, but you don't come to restaurants to read. You usually just pick whatever the most appetizing picture is, and go from there.
"That doesn't seem like a very good idea. What if you inadvertently order something you're allergic to?"
"I'm only allergic to honest work. I'm good."
"You are a strange woman."
"You're a hairpin."
You try your best to empty your mind. If you keep thinking, he's going to keep digging up things better left to the confines of your head. I mean, you'd hate to think of something really embarrassing, like the time that Carlos Herrera--You notice Chester smirking in the reflection of the glass. You decide to abandon that train of thought, and do what you do best in stressful situations: Run your mouth endlessly.
"So, what's your deal? You're made of the bones of like, a hundred Hitlers, right?"
"No! That is very reductive! I am the primal essence that course through the veins of all tyrants! I am the--"
"Worst conversational partner; I know, sheesh. So, besides spilling juicy secrets, is there anything else I should know about? Like, don't feed you after midnight or anything?"
"I do not require traditional sustenance."
Your pasta plate arrives. You relish the opportunity for a well timed quip. "But I do!" You greedily dig in, and the sounds of your poor table manners drowns out anything that Chester may be grousing about. As you finish, you stretch back contently, and catch the end of what was most assuredly a long winded story.
"...and at that point, we had that ingrate pilloried for the rest of his years."
You belch in reply. It is inscrutable.
"Woman! That is it! I have tired of your disrespectful tone for the last time! If we do not spring into action right now, I will do everything in my power to ruin you!"
"Dude, I'm already in--"
"Yes, I know. You are so very fond of that excuse, but I will show you the true horrors of the Underworld if you don't cooperate with me immediately."
"By what? Spilling some story that would only be embarrassing to me? I think I've got you sized up. Maybe you're just hot air?"
He grumbles, furiously, "This is your final chance. Burn this bridge at your own peril, Irene."
"And what do you mean by cooperate exactly?"
"By not having to back sass every other word I have to give! Shut up and be a good servant, or face a lifetime of humiliation.
Well, looks like he means business. You sigh, and resolve to...
---> Shut up and be a good servant.
---> Continue to back sass every word he has to give.
---> Try to mediate and find some middle ground.
---> "You're thinking too small. We should gaslight her until she doubts her sanity."
Sneaky and evil. Making others doubt themselves and enjoy watching them humiliate themselves 3
You idly tap at the table, "Look, I like what you're getting at, but I think it would be a lot more effective if we just did it, for, like, forever." There is a quiet rustling in your hair. Perhaps he is nodding in agreement? Or perhaps he is eating a strand of hair. You resolve to have future conversations with Chester in the mirror. Well, actually...
You polish a nearby glass with a napkin, and angle yourself to get a view of your very talkative headpiece. You can see Chester's teeth grinding!
"I don't see how that's dramatically different from what I was saying."
"No, we just do it over and over again, and really make her doubt everything."
"Hmmm..."
Green luminescent lights narrow in his eye sockets. Even if this is not the level of privacy you were hoping for, it does look pretty cool at least. I mean--"Well, that's very flattering. I'm glad you enjoy my appearance. I on the other hand, will opt to bite my tongue, woman." It's going to take a while to get used to the whole mind reading business. The waiter returns, and you order a large pasta plate. It probably had some sort of punny name, but you don't come to restaurants to read. You usually just pick whatever the most appetizing picture is, and go from there.
"That doesn't seem like a very good idea. What if you inadvertently order something you're allergic to?"
"I'm only allergic to honest work. I'm good."
"You are a strange woman."
"You're a hairpin."
You try your best to empty your mind. If you keep thinking, he's going to keep digging up things better left to the confines of your head. I mean, you'd hate to think of something really embarrassing, like the time that Carlos Herrera--You notice Chester smirking in the reflection of the glass. You decide to abandon that train of thought, and do what you do best in stressful situations: Run your mouth endlessly.
"So, what's your deal? You're made of the bones of like, a hundred Hitlers, right?"
"No! That is very reductive! I am the primal essence that course through the veins of all tyrants! I am the--"
"Worst conversational partner; I know, sheesh. So, besides spilling juicy secrets, is there anything else I should know about? Like, don't feed you after midnight or anything?"
"I do not require traditional sustenance."
Your pasta plate arrives. You relish the opportunity for a well timed quip. "But I do!" You greedily dig in, and the sounds of your poor table manners drowns out anything that Chester may be grousing about. As you finish, you stretch back contently, and catch the end of what was most assuredly a long winded story.
"...and at that point, we had that ingrate pilloried for the rest of his years."
You belch in reply. It is inscrutable.
"Woman! That is it! I have tired of your disrespectful tone for the last time! If we do not spring into action right now, I will do everything in my power to ruin you!"
"Dude, I'm already in--"
"Yes, I know. You are so very fond of that excuse, but I will show you the true horrors of the Underworld if you don't cooperate with me immediately."
"By what? Spilling some story that would only be embarrassing to me? I think I've got you sized up. Maybe you're just hot air?"
He grumbles, furiously, "This is your final chance. Burn this bridge at your own peril, Irene."
"And what do you mean by cooperate exactly?"
"By not having to back sass every other word I have to give! Shut up and be a good servant, or face a lifetime of humiliation.
Well, looks like he means business. You sigh, and resolve to...
---> Shut up and be a good servant.
---> Continue to back sass every word he has to give.
---> Try to mediate and find some middle ground.
budgieboo
And they said it changes when the sun goes down
---> Continue to back sass every word he has to give.
marorda
Oddball and author
---> Try to mediate and find some middle ground.
Hush Hush Storytime
A Friendly Ear
Sorry for the big fat delay everyone! Medical problemos! I'm mostly not dead now. Anyway...
With 66.7% of the vote(2/3)!...
You roll your eyes the best you can, hoping that Chester will notice it through a reflective surface. "Dude, I already had a lifetime of humiliation, so if you think you can one up that, go ahead, hairpin." You can hear his teeth grinding once more. You've clearly gotten his goat, as you are so good at doing. You stand up, satisfied with your acerbic tongue silencing his litany of threats. Still, it will be a bit difficult to keep your mind on track, because you would hate to give him any more ammunition than what he has already.
His reedy voice picks up. "Oh? What ammunition don't you want me to have?"
"Uh, lot's of stuff. I've got a private life, you know."
"Not anymore."
He has a point--
"I know I do."
You bite your lip. This is becoming very irritating, very quickly. Sure, you are an undisputed sass machine, but you will slip eventually and--
"Well, that's very good news for me."
--Chester will no doubt relish in that. You clear your throat.
"Hey, so, I think you're the worst and everything, but could you direct all that simmering hatred towards Karol instead of me? If you ruin my life too much, I'll just mope around in my room." Chester grumbles, seemingly in understanding. He speaks up, "Alright, you are by far the strangest host I have ever had. I suppose I should adjust for a new wave of evil."
"That'll be our band name!"
"Please just return to our dwelling quietly, so that we may plot, woman."
You shove the chair back in, and decide to walk out. You figure that the best way to fit into Hell would be committing minor crimes constantly, so you opt to walk out on the check. Chester finally starts squawking again, about five minutes into your walk back home.
"Are you not concerned that your actions are ever going to come back to haunt you?"
"Pfft, I'm always concerned about that. It's too late for me though, and I can't go down any further. It's like, you know, when you're so in debt that you can't lose any money any more, so you have infinite money?"
Chester is quiet for several seconds. "...W-What did they teach you in public school, Irene?"
You shrug. "Well, technically, they taught a lot, I just didn't listen."
Chester tuts with...some sort of skeletal tongue maybe? Actually, how does he even talk without--
"Don't bother thinking about it. Irene, I think that you would benefit from my knowledge. It seems that you are a great idiot, and I cannot assume my rightful position as king of Hell when my throne is an idiot."
You respond mockingly, "Yeah, but Satan's throne probably can't even think. I am de facto better."
You arrive in front of the hotel, rejuvenated by your constant banter. Maybe you can work with this guy after all. Chester speaks, slowly,
"So, were we going to deal with Karol now, or after you commit to some more nincompoopery?"
Hmm.
---> Follow Chester's plans for gaslighting Carol.
---> Take charge and improvise.
---> Commit to some nincompoopery.
With 66.7% of the vote(2/3)!...
You roll your eyes the best you can, hoping that Chester will notice it through a reflective surface. "Dude, I already had a lifetime of humiliation, so if you think you can one up that, go ahead, hairpin." You can hear his teeth grinding once more. You've clearly gotten his goat, as you are so good at doing. You stand up, satisfied with your acerbic tongue silencing his litany of threats. Still, it will be a bit difficult to keep your mind on track, because you would hate to give him any more ammunition than what he has already.
His reedy voice picks up. "Oh? What ammunition don't you want me to have?"
"Uh, lot's of stuff. I've got a private life, you know."
"Not anymore."
He has a point--
"I know I do."
You bite your lip. This is becoming very irritating, very quickly. Sure, you are an undisputed sass machine, but you will slip eventually and--
"Well, that's very good news for me."
--Chester will no doubt relish in that. You clear your throat.
"Hey, so, I think you're the worst and everything, but could you direct all that simmering hatred towards Karol instead of me? If you ruin my life too much, I'll just mope around in my room." Chester grumbles, seemingly in understanding. He speaks up, "Alright, you are by far the strangest host I have ever had. I suppose I should adjust for a new wave of evil."
"That'll be our band name!"
"Please just return to our dwelling quietly, so that we may plot, woman."
You shove the chair back in, and decide to walk out. You figure that the best way to fit into Hell would be committing minor crimes constantly, so you opt to walk out on the check. Chester finally starts squawking again, about five minutes into your walk back home.
"Are you not concerned that your actions are ever going to come back to haunt you?"
"Pfft, I'm always concerned about that. It's too late for me though, and I can't go down any further. It's like, you know, when you're so in debt that you can't lose any money any more, so you have infinite money?"
Chester is quiet for several seconds. "...W-What did they teach you in public school, Irene?"
You shrug. "Well, technically, they taught a lot, I just didn't listen."
Chester tuts with...some sort of skeletal tongue maybe? Actually, how does he even talk without--
"Don't bother thinking about it. Irene, I think that you would benefit from my knowledge. It seems that you are a great idiot, and I cannot assume my rightful position as king of Hell when my throne is an idiot."
You respond mockingly, "Yeah, but Satan's throne probably can't even think. I am de facto better."
You arrive in front of the hotel, rejuvenated by your constant banter. Maybe you can work with this guy after all. Chester speaks, slowly,
"So, were we going to deal with Karol now, or after you commit to some more nincompoopery?"
Hmm.
---> Follow Chester's plans for gaslighting Carol.
---> Take charge and improvise.
---> Commit to some nincompoopery.
MisshapenDear
a poison decanter
Well, this looks absolutely wonderful. xDD I'm definitely going to be voting here whenever I get the chance, to be sure!
---> Follow Chester's plans for gaslighting Carol.
All hail Hairpin Chester
---> Follow Chester's plans for gaslighting Carol.
All hail Hairpin Chester
Hush Hush Storytime
A Friendly Ear
With 100% (2/2) of the votes!...
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]You purse your lips and sigh. Best to buy some favor with this guy. “No, I’m good sans nincompoopery. What’s your big plan?” Chester rattles quietly, “Well, first we begin by gluing her stapler down. Then, we gradually glue everything down.”[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]You bite your tongue, and entertain him further. “How devilish. Then what?” He cackles quietly, “We glue [/SIZE][SIZE=14.666666666666666px]her[/SIZE][SIZE=14.666666666666666px] to her desk!” Your tongue lashes out, as it is prone to do.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]“I don’t think you know what gaslighting is. She is absolutely going to recognize that as a stupid prank.”[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]“Well, that’s all semantics dear. Whatever you may call my plot, it is, indeed, absolutely terrifying. Now, there are several steps we’ll have to take to carry out this plan.” You sigh, and enter the hotel lobby. Karol isn’t here at the moment. Chester continues clattering merrily, “Our first, and most important step, is to secure the adhesive, for you see, without it--”[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]You walk behind the counter, paying no heed to the staff only signs.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]“--we could not even begin to carry out this sinister plot. Now, to elevate ourselves above the level of simple mountebank--”[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]You rifle through the drawers of the desk, upturning several leaves of paper, until you find a bottle of glue.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]“--we will need to sneak past the surely, [/SIZE][SIZE=14.666666666666666px]seemingly[/SIZE][SIZE=14.666666666666666px] insurmountable defenses of her private domain--”[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]You look around the desk. Coffee cup is still almost full. That’s a good candidate. You gingerly lift it up and squirt a fat blob of glue underneath it, rubbing it into the desktop.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]“--possibly into the depth’s of the servant chambers, and obtain some of the aforementioned adhesive. Now, with that in tow, we can begin to--”[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]You finish coating the keyboard and pencils with glue. “Alright, we’re done here.” You slap your hands together cockily, and walk back to the elevators.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]“W-What do you mean we’re done? My plot is barely unfurled!”[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]“I got the gist of it, and then I did it.”[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]“Irene, what if there were some terribly crucial step I was going to divulge upon you?”[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]“Gross!”[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]“How do you not know what divulge--anyway, what if there was an important step you missed?”[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]“Then we’ll worry about that in the future. But you know, I got it right. I covered all of her stuff in glue.”[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]“What about the technique!? You can’t just prance around, recklessly...wrecking someone’s possessions!”[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]“Pretty sure I can.”[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]You step into the elevator, covering your ears. Chester tries to speak, but is immediately drowned out by the muzak. He still speaks, drowned out by insufferable saxophones, until you reach your floor.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]“--and frankly, if that’s what I’ll have to be saddled up with, then I’d rather not be here at all!”[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]You shrug. “Then, just hop off, dude.”[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]“I...cannot.”[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]“Yeah, yeah, cursed. But you can just lift it, right?”[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]“I cannot.”[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]You pause, with the warm keys still in the doorknob. “So, why are you being such a bastard then? Just settle down and enjoy how I do things. I guarantee you, they’re evil.”[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]“But it’s not [/SIZE][SIZE=14.666666666666666px]my[/SIZE][SIZE=14.666666666666666px] evil!”[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]You groan. “Ugh, you’re such a petulant child!”[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]“How do you know what petulant means, and not divulg--”[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]“If you would just keep your pants on, you would realize that you are sitting on an express train to heaven! Think of all the shit you can do up there!”[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Chester finally stops blabbering, and you can almost hear the wheels in his head turning. Well, at least that bought you some relative quiet time. You walk over to the bed, and throw yourself into it, ready to take a nice nap after all that walking around. You yawn but your drift into slumber is interrupted by a large sigh from Chester. You respond with an angry grunt,[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]“What?”[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]“Irene, I have longed for Heaven for so long.”[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]“Wait, what?”[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]“But I was rejected once before, so I just tried my best to fit in here.”[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]“What do you mean once before? Wait no--”[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]“It was so much more peaceful up there, and I could fit in--”[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]“I don’t want to hear your expository dump, dude--”[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]“Things were simple there. I was safe, warmed by her embrace, draped against her tendrils, I was...happy.”[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]A particularly salty bead of sweat drops from your hair...was that a tear?[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Chester takes a deep breath and continues.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]---> Slam your head into the wall in an attempt to end storytime.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]---> Flip on the television, in the hopes of drowning chester out with [/SIZE][SIZE=14.666666666666666px]The Flintstones in Viva Rock Vegas[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]---> Groan and listen to what is, undoubtedly, a long and boring backstory.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]You purse your lips and sigh. Best to buy some favor with this guy. “No, I’m good sans nincompoopery. What’s your big plan?” Chester rattles quietly, “Well, first we begin by gluing her stapler down. Then, we gradually glue everything down.”[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]You bite your tongue, and entertain him further. “How devilish. Then what?” He cackles quietly, “We glue [/SIZE][SIZE=14.666666666666666px]her[/SIZE][SIZE=14.666666666666666px] to her desk!” Your tongue lashes out, as it is prone to do.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]“I don’t think you know what gaslighting is. She is absolutely going to recognize that as a stupid prank.”[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]“Well, that’s all semantics dear. Whatever you may call my plot, it is, indeed, absolutely terrifying. Now, there are several steps we’ll have to take to carry out this plan.” You sigh, and enter the hotel lobby. Karol isn’t here at the moment. Chester continues clattering merrily, “Our first, and most important step, is to secure the adhesive, for you see, without it--”[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]You walk behind the counter, paying no heed to the staff only signs.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]“--we could not even begin to carry out this sinister plot. Now, to elevate ourselves above the level of simple mountebank--”[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]You rifle through the drawers of the desk, upturning several leaves of paper, until you find a bottle of glue.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]“--we will need to sneak past the surely, [/SIZE][SIZE=14.666666666666666px]seemingly[/SIZE][SIZE=14.666666666666666px] insurmountable defenses of her private domain--”[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]You look around the desk. Coffee cup is still almost full. That’s a good candidate. You gingerly lift it up and squirt a fat blob of glue underneath it, rubbing it into the desktop.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]“--possibly into the depth’s of the servant chambers, and obtain some of the aforementioned adhesive. Now, with that in tow, we can begin to--”[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]You finish coating the keyboard and pencils with glue. “Alright, we’re done here.” You slap your hands together cockily, and walk back to the elevators.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]“W-What do you mean we’re done? My plot is barely unfurled!”[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]“I got the gist of it, and then I did it.”[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]“Irene, what if there were some terribly crucial step I was going to divulge upon you?”[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]“Gross!”[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]“How do you not know what divulge--anyway, what if there was an important step you missed?”[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]“Then we’ll worry about that in the future. But you know, I got it right. I covered all of her stuff in glue.”[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]“What about the technique!? You can’t just prance around, recklessly...wrecking someone’s possessions!”[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]“Pretty sure I can.”[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]You step into the elevator, covering your ears. Chester tries to speak, but is immediately drowned out by the muzak. He still speaks, drowned out by insufferable saxophones, until you reach your floor.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]“--and frankly, if that’s what I’ll have to be saddled up with, then I’d rather not be here at all!”[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]You shrug. “Then, just hop off, dude.”[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]“I...cannot.”[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]“Yeah, yeah, cursed. But you can just lift it, right?”[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]“I cannot.”[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]You pause, with the warm keys still in the doorknob. “So, why are you being such a bastard then? Just settle down and enjoy how I do things. I guarantee you, they’re evil.”[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]“But it’s not [/SIZE][SIZE=14.666666666666666px]my[/SIZE][SIZE=14.666666666666666px] evil!”[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]You groan. “Ugh, you’re such a petulant child!”[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]“How do you know what petulant means, and not divulg--”[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]“If you would just keep your pants on, you would realize that you are sitting on an express train to heaven! Think of all the shit you can do up there!”[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Chester finally stops blabbering, and you can almost hear the wheels in his head turning. Well, at least that bought you some relative quiet time. You walk over to the bed, and throw yourself into it, ready to take a nice nap after all that walking around. You yawn but your drift into slumber is interrupted by a large sigh from Chester. You respond with an angry grunt,[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]“What?”[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]“Irene, I have longed for Heaven for so long.”[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]“Wait, what?”[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]“But I was rejected once before, so I just tried my best to fit in here.”[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]“What do you mean once before? Wait no--”[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]“It was so much more peaceful up there, and I could fit in--”[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]“I don’t want to hear your expository dump, dude--”[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]“Things were simple there. I was safe, warmed by her embrace, draped against her tendrils, I was...happy.”[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]A particularly salty bead of sweat drops from your hair...was that a tear?[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Chester takes a deep breath and continues.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]---> Slam your head into the wall in an attempt to end storytime.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]---> Flip on the television, in the hopes of drowning chester out with [/SIZE][SIZE=14.666666666666666px]The Flintstones in Viva Rock Vegas[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]---> Groan and listen to what is, undoubtedly, a long and boring backstory.[/SIZE]
