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It's COOL to be gay!
Post this on the wall of a homosexual friend and tell them how COOL they are
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?
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.
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 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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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 --
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!
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.
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.
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.
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.
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 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 ♥♥♥♥♥♥ 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.
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 ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥ 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.
"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.
My brother had a partie with his friends and i come outside and see a macdonalds bag when i look inside there was only empty cups no burgers or anything saved for me i was very sad And i played minecraft feeling sad i didn’t get a share of macdonalds
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