How To Make Friends

I love people…

So when we last left our intrepid hero, I was running all over the damn place trying desperately to figure out where I was…and I’m STILL there. Oh, I TRIED to get someplace new. Coloss Ian invited me to join him at one of the Luggie spots. I figured, what the hell, it’s a long run, but what else do I have to keep me busy right now?

So off I go, skipping merrily ‘mongst the bushes…screaming bloody murder the whole way…

and so on and so on…

Now, for those of you who forgot or don’t know, let me just remind you: I SUCK. I can’t do very well against monsters, I certainly don’t do well against other players, and I never do well against falling from heights. So my making a 10-click run may not seem very impressive to you, but it was a DAMN fine site to me – I was giddy with excitement as I topped the last rise in my run.

Only to see a red dot swing onto my tail and begin pursuit…

Now, of course this means I’m going to die. I jump, slide, skip and hop, but to no avail. I’m two-shotted back to the lifestone. Of course, I handle this frustration in my normal fashion:

You tell Hemtishi, “I hate you. I really, really hate you. I hope small insects infest your privates.” (And yes, I really did remember his name! Are you guys impressed?)

Now what I failed to take into account was that apparently Hemtishi’s mother, Wrack (Yes! Another name!) was on-line. I’m not exactly sure how she came into this whole conversation, but I believe it went something like this:

Hemtishi says, “Hey mom?”
Wrack says, “Yes dear?”
Hemtishi says, “What does I-N-F-E-S-T mean?”
Wrack says, “Well honey, that’s when a bunch of things live in something else. Kind of like those little bugs that were living in your hair that made us shave your whole body and scour you with acid.”
Hemtishi says, “Oh. How did he know?”
Wrack says, “What, dear?”
Hemtishi says, “Well, its just that I killed this guy Kwip, and he told me, ‘I hate you. I really, really hate you. I hope small insects infest your privates.'”
Wrack says, “Oh, goodness.”
Hemtishi sniffles.
Wrack says, “Now now, dear, I’m sure he didn’t mean it. He was probably just playing.”
Hemtishi sobs, “No, he HATES me! You saw what he wrote!”
Wrack says, “There there. I’m sure if he met you, he’d think you were a charming sweet little girl, just like I do!”
Hemtishi wails, “No, he just died, like everyone else I meet! And now he HATES me!”
Wrack says, “Oh, come here and let mommy take care of you! There, there…”

Hee hee. Anyway, a few moments after I send that tell to Hemtishi, I get a tell from Wrack:

Wrack tells you, “quit whineing, fucker”

I was, of course, completely stunned. Heh.

You tell Wrack, “Quiet, slut, lest I come over there and smack you around!”

Well, this was too much for poor Wrack. She just couldn’t cope; not only had I told her precious daughter that I hated her, I had insulted her and talked smack to her! Oh no! Whatever was she to do! Why, the only recourse was to…be really, really clever and come back with a witty insult!

Wrack tells you, “lets see, you hunt lugie citidal and i’m lvling on olthi. stop talking smack, slut”

Yeah, she failed. Cleverness isn’t exactly her forte. And she OBVIOUSLY didn’t know who she was talking to – I mean, let’s face it: I’m such a badass, if I wanted to hunt Olthoi, I’d have me a whole armor of Olthoi hide and the Olthoi Queen would be pouring forth Kwip eggs even as we speak!

Death says, “That is the single most disgusting thing you’ve ever said.”
You say, “Quiet you, I’m being funny here!”

Anyway, back to our story. Wrack, obviously overcome with emotions at her daughter’s distress, is unable to type any more intelligent statements (not that she was waxing eloquently before, mind you), because she then spams me with about 50 “fuck you, slut” messages. And before I could even object to her using my copyrighted insult of “slut” (see, I called her a slut first, so it’s MINE), she squelches me.

Hee hee. See? What started in a frustrating session of pk’ing ended in hours of amusement for me! So nothing is a loss!

Sigh…I swear, I think I’m gonna start my own monarchy. No one has to swear to me or any of that nonsense; we’re just gonna be a big mob of maniacs that run down the people that annoy me. Heh. Of course I have to form a large force, as anyone knows I’d get my ass handed to me repeatedly if I attempted to kill these people myself…

Well, let’s have a little contest! The person who can send me the most screenshots of Wrack’s dead body (not the same shot, either, you cheating bastards! And don’t send me huge-ass files. Shrink them things down to .jpgs; crop out the bits I don’t care about. My mailbox is already filled enough with hate mail from Death.) will win a….er…a mote? Hell, I’d offer more, but that’s the only thing left on my body… Gosh, if this gets her killed even once, I’ll laugh my ass off. Alright all my loyal readers, you want to prove your toughness, Wrack says she can take all of you mooks. Hee hee hee…

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