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Inebriare Humidum


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Posted

A strange sensation. Hard to figure out what it is. You look around the small, dark room in a groggy haze of confusion. Immediately you realize that you are in some kind of basement. A dank, slightly intoxicating aroma enters your nostrils without your consent. A dirty and suspicious black couch is in front of you. You can make out what appears to be.... animaymay and MLG gaming posters on the walls. Empty mountain dew cans, McDonalds wrappers, Doritos bags and various other trash litter the stained yellow carpet floor. After blinking several times, you spot an odd giant green lump smack-dab in the middle of the room and a computer on a desk located to the far corner. Strangely enough, various pill bottles of what appears to be AIDs medication lies on the desk. Horrifyingly, however, you discover giant racks of poo poo and pee pee jars and My Little Pony fleshlights flashlights scattered throughout the room.


"W-where the h-hell am I? W-what's g-going on?", you whisper to yourself like a little bitch who loves to stutter in an attempt to be kawaii.


You're not in Kansas anymore.


Suddenly, that green lump you spotted earlier, much to your terror, comes alive and unfolds itself with a heave and huff. You piss your pants a little and freeze in place. A giant, humanoid frog arises before you. It stares right into you, its big eyes twinkling with the loneliness and sadness of a thousand NEETs. The frog is adorned as a traditional Korean samurai; its hair is tied in a bun and it wears a robe typical of the warriors of Mongolia. A pair of superior Korean katanas is affixed to its waist.


"Konnichiwa," it whispers to you in its thick Chinese accent.


"Y-you too," you reply back.


Recoiling at the sudden social interaction, the frog-samurai screams at the top of its lungs and draws its sword forged with steel folded over one billion times before charging at you in a rage. You try to get away in a hurry but trip over a dakimakura of a picture of a fox that you had not seen earlier. The frog-samurai approaches you as you lay writhing over the ground and holds its katana over you. It closes its eyes.


"Requiescat in pace, in peace...." it recites as it prepares to deliver the death-blow.


Thinking quickly, you grab a hardcover copy of 'Did Six Million Really Die?' by Richard E. Harwood that you spotted from the corner of your eye on the floor and hold it out above you in an effort to shield yourself. The frog-samurai plunges its sword straight down. Much to your surprise, the cheap Chinese sword deflects off of the book and shatters into a million pieces. It couldn't handle the truth.


"No, no..." the frog-samurai mutters to itself as it backs off in bewilderment.


You watch as the frog-samurai bends down to its knees and takes out a small tanto from its belt. It opens up its robe and holds out the knife in front of its belly with both hands.


"Autumn ends: frogs settle down into the earth," it whispers in final statement.


The frog-samurai commits honorable sudoku after failing to remove you from this existence. Breathing a sigh of relief, you get up off of the floor and try to process what just happened. The fact that the dank aroma is still present in the air clouding your judgement doesn't help. Before you can really process, you hear heavy breathing and loud thudding. Someone or something - something large, is coming down the stairs.


Act fast.

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trips gets to decide what happens


most dank post/whoever sends me the most Nigerian money via paypal decides what happens


NO SHOES, NO SHIRT, NO SERVICE!!!!!

Posted

I quickly chew on the peyote that was on the desk next to the drawing of Sonichu. My spirit animal forms and appears in my mind (which is a polar bear/goomba hybrid) and gives me the sound advice of confronting at the approaching unknown.


Taking out the d20 I had cleverly placed in my shirt pocket for dire situations such as this, I had threw the die and hit the thing that was approaching me.


Or not, depending what the dungeon master rolls.

Posted
I quickly chew on the peyote that was on the desk next to the drawing of Sonichu. My spirit animal forms and appears in my mind (which is a polar bear/goomba hybrid) and gives me the sound advice of confronting at the approaching unknown.


Taking out the d20 I had cleverly placed in my shirt pocket for dire situations such as this, I had threw the die and hit the thing that was approaching me.


Or not, depending what the dungeon master rolls.

 

I accept your bribe of 500 Nigerian nairas, m'lady.


You take some of the unwrapped half-eaten hash brownies next to the shitty drawing of Sanic off of the filthy desk and take a big bite. An hour passes as you wait for the dank kush to be digested and absorbed into your system. Meanwhile, you sit down and contemplate how you ended up here. No idea. Just a few moments ago, you were relaxing at your home before you suddenly woke up in this place. The grass kicks in. An hallucination appears before you - a Polish bear, a guava fruit along with a Toyota Prius of all things comes into your field of vision. These three hallucinations all part onto you some of their wisdom;


"That's some dank stuff, homie," the guava fruit suggests.


"Moshi, moshi," the Toyota adds.


"Ayy lmao ur fuked," finishes the Polish bear.


The hallucinations disappear after they are done stating what needed to be stated.


The approaching unknown finally became visible. It's a man, in his mid 30s. He is grotesquely obese - easily 600 pounds in weight. He appears to be absolutely disgusting; his face is full of pimples, his hair is slick with grease and his body is generally sweaty and unwashed. His stench defiles your sense of smell and completely overwhelms the dank aroma of the room. He is wearing a sweatshirt with a picture of Asuna on it, fingerless gloves and some cargo shorts. Some Japanese-style clogs are worn as his shoes. You and he immediately make eye contact and you both stand shocked for a moment. He then looks beyond you and sees the dead frog-samurai. He makes the first move.


"MOMMY!" he screams in his unusually high-pitched voice as he starts to clamor up the stairs.


Panicking, you take out the d20 that you keep in your shirt pocket for the nerdy board games you love to play and take aim at the strange man. You roll a 2. You throw the d20 with the force of a 3 year old starving Somalian child with muscular dystrophy and completely miss your target. Luckily for you, however, the sheer weight of the man slows him down and has prevented him from getting far from you.


Perhaps now would be the time to take out the .38 special revolver that you always carry with you.

Posted

I load up my trusty .38 special with some of the spare cheetos lying around the room, and, spinning the barrel of the gun like a true action film cowboy, take aim at the NEET while praying the gods of the dice reward me with a successful hit.

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