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katedoesfics · 4 years

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Honey & Vinegar: Chapter 9

Pip met everyone else in the valley that night at the saloon. It was overwhelming, to say the least, as Leah brought them around from table to table, but Pip was grateful for Leah’s outgoing personality. It seemed she was generally well liked in the valley. And it didn’t take much for Pip to observe some of the other relationships within the town. And what they didn’t observe there in the saloon, Leah was happy enough to explain to them.

Pip met Willy the fisherman who resided on the beach, learning that Elliott, too, lived on the beach. They found Marnie sitting with Lewis, and Jodi and Caroline, who Pip learned was Abigail’s mother. They met Pam, Penny’s mother, at the bar, and Pierre, along with Robin’s husband, Demitrius. Clint the blacksmith sat at a table with Gunther, and to no surprise of Pip’s, Shane was sitting alone in a corner. And, of course, there was Gus, the owner of the saloon, and Emily, who Pip learned had a sister, Haley. And just as it seemed they were finishing with the introductions, Sam, Sebastian, and Abigail walked in, skipping the bar entirely and making their way into the other room where Pip learned that they often gathered to hang out and play pool when they weren't “making a racket in Sam’s room,” according to Jodi.

“They’re in a band,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Though, they’ve changed their band name more times than I can count, and they can’t seem to stick to one genre of music.”

For a brief moment, the elderly woman Pip had seen a few days prior arrived at the saloon, and Pip learned of her and her husband and their grandson, Alex, “the boy who’s always throwing that football around,” as the woman explained. When the introductions were all said and done, Pip found themselves sitting with Leah and Elliott once more. It had been some time since Leah had had a drink, too busy interacting with the other villagers, and she had mellowed out some as a result. Still, it was clear that she and Elliott were close friends, and they laughed loudly as they joked with one another.

“Pip says they’re gonna try their hand at making some alcohol,” Leah said. She turned to Pip. “You promised me wine, remember?”

Pip nodded. “I did,” they said. “And I intend to keep that promise.”

Leah grinned. “Good! I love a good wine night.”

“Seems like everyone here enjoys their alcohol,” Pip said.

Leah grew quiet.

“Not much else to do around here,” Elliott said.

“Some of us indulge too much,” Leah said. She glanced over at Pam at the bar, who was now heavily intoxicated. Gus had a clear look of annoyance on his face, but he treated Pam kindly, offering her assistance and quietly suggesting it was time for her to head home.

“We don’t need to get into that,” Elliott muttered. He turned to Pip. “Pam has been through some hard times, especially after she lost her job. She used to drive the bus in and out of the valley. But it broke down over the winter, and we just haven’t had the funds to get it fixed up. We used to get a lot of tourists around in the summer. We still do from time to time, but the bus brought in a lot more in its hay day.”

“That’s too bad,” Pip said. They turned back to the bar, watching as Shane made his way to Pam, offering his assistance and guiding her out into the night. This gesture came as a genuine surprise to Pip, further confirming that he wasn’t as much of a grump as they first thought.

“What’s his deal, anyway?” Pip asked curiously. “Got a thing against fairies or something?”

Again, Leah fell quiet. Her gaze lingered on the door for a moment before she turned back to Pip.

“I don’t know too much about Shane,” she admitted. “He hasn’t been here for very long. I think he moved here to be with Jas after her parents died. He’s her Godfather.”

“Oh.”

“I heard from Marnie that he was very close with her parents.”

Pip frowned. “Oh.”

Leah shrugged. “He’s got a bit of a drinking problem, too.”

Pip mulled over the conversation they had had with Jas when they first met. “Aunt Marnie says it’s just because he’s sad a lot. Can you make him happy with your magic?”

“Not that I’m one for gossip,” Elliott started, and Leah slapped his arm playfully.

“Oh, please,” she said. “You are so one for gossip!”

Elliott chose to ignore her, grinning. “Marnie and Lewis spend a lot of time together, though,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows.

Leah giggled and ‘oohed’ playfully. “Well, at least someone’s getting laid around here.”

“You could get laid,” Elliott said.

Leah scoffed. “I could,” she said. “But all you guys want something serious and long term, and I’m so not about that life right now.”

Elliott grinned and rolled his eyes, then turned to Pip. “She’s a hippie painter,” he said. “Would rather be in the middle of the woods painting naked people.”

“What about you, Shakespere? I swear, sometimes you spend a whole week cooped up in that shack of yours, and when you come out, it looks like you just did a hundred lines of coke!”

“I’m a writer,” he said snidely. “I can’t help that I live off of coffee and noodles and sometimes lose track of time!”

“It’s no wonder you don’t have any solid relationships,” Leah said.

“You said so yourself,” he reminded her. “Us artists don’t have time to get tied down.”

Leah giggled. “What about you?” she asked, turning to Pip. “Any love interests in your life?”

Pip hesitated. “Fairies don’t generally get tied down with such nonsense.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Elliott said, raising his glass, and their bottles clinked together.

“Nothing wrong with it, though,” Leah said with a shrug. “Maybe there’s someone out there for us.”

“But what’s the sense in fretting over it?” Elliott asked.

“Touche.”

The saloon had started to empty out by now, and Gus and Emily were soon cleaning the counters, preparing to close for the night. Emily playfully tossed a rag at them, and Elliott yawned.

“Guess that’s our cue,” he said as he got up and stretched. He cleared their table, bringing their empty bottles and glasses to Emily with a cheerful smile.

The three of them left the saloon together, and in the town square, they bid each other goodnight before heading in their separate directions toward their homes. A dark figure, however, caught Pip’s attention, and they turned as Shane made his way across the square. He paused and turned to Pip.

“Hear any good gossip tonight?” he asked.

Pip hesitated. “Should I have?”

“I know how Leah and Elliott get when they get together and have a few.”

“They mostly talked about getting laid,” Pip said frankly. “I’ll never understand you humans and your constant need for physical affection.”

Shane snorted, then hiccuped. “You fairies are weird,” he said.

“At least we can hold our alcohol.”

Shane frowned, and Pip grinned. By some miracle, it seemed they had found a way to communicate with Shane. All it took was a little friendly smack-talk and heavy sarcasm.

“Alright,” Shane said. “Next time, we’ll see who can drink more.”

This time, it was Pip who frowned, and Shane who grinned eagerily.

“Wassa matter? Afraid I’ll show you up?”

No, it wasn’t that at all. But Pip couldn’t admit to Shane that they simply did not want to add to their clear addiction.

“Yeah,” Pip muttered. “I believe ya.”

Shane clearly wasn’t happy that Pip had given up so easily, but Pip didn’t dare push the matter further. It was becoming clear to them that the people in the valley had their secrets and their troubles. If it were anyone else, they likely wouldn’t have paid any mind to it. Pip, however, couldn’t help but to wonder if the trouble with Imps and the worries of Rasmodius were all connected to the troubled pasts and silent despairs the residents of Pelican Town clearly endured. There was a lot of tension in the valley. The strain of JoJa Mart, for one, clearly took a toll on the residents, torn between wanting to keep their quaint valley alive and keeping the big corporations out. It seemed the valley also provided a safe haven for those with darkness in their lives. The more trouble and stress that came over the valley, the stronger the chance for Imps.

It was a cycle that, if not broken soon, would destroy the valley completely and end life as they knew it.

#stardew valley #sdv #fic #fanfic #honey and vinegar #h&v

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lnicol1990 · 5 years

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The Dark Domain - Session 3

After last session, this one was bound to be easier to DM, right? Still got thrown for a loop when they decided to start a fight somewhere I didn’t have a map for.

*sigh*

Well, on with the session!

Again picking up where the last left off, Irah finishes healing the last person affected by Delirium’s oil fire, alongside Father Saepin. All of his healing miracles have been tapped, with only one singular point of healing left. Exhausted, the two aasimar make their way back to the church to get some well needed and well deserved rest. On the way, Irah notices that the guards on the watchtowers have doubled.

Saepin thanks Irah for his help in treating the townsfolk and wish him a good night before retiring to his own quarters. Irah returns the sentiment and goes to the guest rooms, where his teammates are waiting for him.

It is unanimously agreed that any chance of conquering Quain without bloodshed is gone, and the team discuss tactics. First order of business is to break Delirium out from the catacombs (Irah and Kaieth not knowing that the man in question is hiding under one of the beds). It is then agreed that Father Saepin should then be the next target, as he is likely to be their biggest obstacle to taking the town by force. The firbolg druid, Keen, is briefly discussed, but Rolfor assures them that as long as the forest is not endangered in any way, it is highly unlikely that Keen will come to the town’s aid.

Delirium shows himself at this point, to the surprise of Irah and Kaieth. Seeing that the man is free, and his guards are likely dead, Kaieth offers the plan to lure Saepin to the catacombs and take him out their while he thinks he is in relatively safe company. The elf instructs Delirium and Rolfor to go down to the catatcombs and make some noise to draw the priest’s attention, with Irah and himself following afterwards to block any chance of escape.

The two humans get down to the catacombs, where Rolfor blanks on what he is meant to do. He makes a spur of the moment decision to strip a guard and take their armour and disguise himself. Delirium decides to go back and ask what the plan was, where he is distracted by seeing a lute resting against one of the church’s pews.

Kaieth and Irah are getting suspicious over the lack of noise when Kaieth sees Delirium walk past them and into the main hall. At which point, the stoic elf mutters in frustration.

“I... am going to kill him.”

Delirium picks up the lute and begins to play. He has no idea how to play the lute, but the awkward sound echoes loudly in hall and can be heard down in the catacombs, where Rolfor remembers his part in the plan and rushes upstairs, yelling that the prisoner has escaped.

All the noise has roused Saepin, who enters the church hall to investigate. Delirium, seeing their target, drops the lute and fires an arrow at the priest; just in time for Kaieth, Irah, and Rolfor to see. Kaieth is despairing that this is not the plan and that this is the worst place to launch their attack.

All the while, Delirium is reciting: “The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the inequities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men. Blessed is he who, in the name of charity and good will, shepherds the weak through the valley of darkness, for he is truly his brother’s keeper and the finder of lost children. And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who would attempt to poison and destroy My brothers. And you will know My name is the Lord when I lay My vengeance upon thee.“

Delirium’s arrow lands in Saepin’s shoulder, and the priest lets out a cry of pain. Rolfor takes the opportunity to rush across the hall and stabs the man in the gut with his rapier. The blade goes through and leaves a deep gash in Saepin’s side, but doesn’t seem to hit anything vital.

Under assault, Saepin calls upon the divine light within himself and shrouds himself in radiant light, appearing as a pair of ethereal wings. The man rushes for the main door, taking another, lighter slash from Rolfor before escaping into the night.

Delirium makes to chase the man, but Irah expends his last spell to command him to stop and asks Kaieth to tie their teammate up. Kaieth, now silently furious at this point for having yet another plan disrupted by the man, does so without hesitation, tying the man up tightly. Irah walks over and knocks Delirium out, apologising beforehand. He then tells Kaieth that they can pretend that the attack was Delirium’s idea, that he’d sowed dissent into one of the guards, and they’d been too stunned to stop him. The pair of them yell to Rolfor to ditch the guard uniform to avoid being implicate as they lean the unconscious Delirium against a pew.

Two guards run in demanding to know what happened, and the team give them their story. The guards believe them and mention that Father Saepin is gone. The team are shocked at this and ask what happened, where they are told that Saepin’s ethereal wings took flight and the aasimar disappeared over the water, heading towards the mainland. Irah is annoyed at this; having been a Scourge previously, he was unaware of the other aasimar powers that the gods could give and miffed that he’d never had the ability to fly.

The guards ask for the team’s aid in moving Delirium back to the catacombs, and they oblige, dragging Delirium towards the staircase downwards before stabbing the guards in the back.

They wake Delirium roughly, and set about continuing their original plan. As Saepin is out of the way, the town is now unprotected, but they now have to conquer it and get their people in place before the priest returns with reinforcements of his own.

As they approach the main doors, more guards with mage support enter. A second fight breaks out in the church, with the mage setting a pew alight when their attack on Delirium missed. Kaieth takes a few solid hits before the guards are defeated, being the only team member to get hurt.

They consider letting the guards come into the church in small groups they can handle, but the idea is squashed when the fire grows and they are forced outside.

Realising that they are now in a very bad situation, Kaieth tells the group to head to the water, so that they can’t be flanked at the very least. Rolfor breaks off to stir up trouble in the town ranks, while everyone else follows Kaieth.

At the docks, they come across a group of townsfolk, led by a young man. The youth approaches the group and asks if the guard have turned on them. Irah and Kaieth share a confused look before saying yes. The youth introduces himself as Nestor, the last mayoral candidate. He had witnessed everything the team had done and come to the conclusion that Quain should side with the Domain, claiming that they were the only people ‘to give a damn’. He and his group of Domain supporters offer to help the team with the upcoming battle.

Irah and Kaieth thank Nestor and the townsfolk for their support, but quietly recognise that none of them are fighters and will likely die in any skirmish they’re involved in. Kaieth instructs the little group to hold position by the docks while they deal with the guards, while Irah tells Delirium to get the druid, that maybe the firbolg will help them if they promise to protect the man’s forest. Delirium gives a sceptical look, considering his previous interaction with the druid, but does as bid and sneaks away to avoid attention.

Irah and Kaieth step forward, hoping to parley and give Delirium time to find Keen. They see Seoran, the Empire-leaning candidate, leading the mob.

The pair do everything in their power to placate Seoran and correct any lies he’s spreading. Kaieth notices that some of the townsfolk in tow are listening, with one quickly slipping away. At that point, Matrim joins the parley. He does his best to persuade Seoran to back down, stating that this is not how Quain works, or how the people behave. Seeing another of their own siding with the party convinces more people to not be involved in the mob. There are more assurances from Kaieth and Irah that the Domain means the people no harm, and are only looking to ease its suffering, overpopulated people by asking for help.

Between the three of them, all townsfolk back off, leaving Seoran with only a contingency of guards.

Meanwhile, Delirium makes it to the forest, and lights a torch. He calls out to Keen, knowing that he’s there somewhere, and threatens a clump of flowers to get the druid’s attention. What he gets is a lone guard, who had been patrolling the woods all day. The guard attacks Delirium and gets a dagger in the upper leg, leaving him prone and bleeding out. Keen appears, at this point fed up with being disturbed, and demands to know what the troublemaker wants. Delirium makes his case, but Keen declines to help, saying that issues between the Empire and the Domain are none of his business and that by druidic law, he couldn’t get involved even if he wanted to.

Back in the village, the party can see that the guards are no longer comfortable with this course of action, but are honour bound to remain by Seoran’s side. So long as someone opposes the party’s presence, they have to be there.

Matrim stands in front of Seoran, between him and the party, and begs him to stop this madness. In response, Seoran draws his rapier and stabs at Matrim. Kaieth, with incredibly honed reflexes, grabs the candidate and switches places with him, taking the hit himself. Thankfully, the hit is ineffective, and Kaieth knocks the man out in response. With the problem out of the way, Kaieth and Irah turn to Matrim, who is looking strangely worse for wear.

A quick examination reveals that Matrim never sought medical aid after the fire and is suffering from fairly bad smoke inhalation. Irah uses his last point of healing to ease the man’s breathing, but is too tired to heal him properly.

Now that Seoran has attacked (or attempted to attack) a fellow towns member, the guards no longer have to stand with him. However, some of them voice concern over not knowing if they should still force the party out. One guard is contacted by a mage on the tower and is told to break off any further confrontation and that Seoran’s arrest take priority.

As the guards disband and return to their posts, Delirium comes out of the forest, meeting up with Rolfor, who had seen the large mob and decided that it was probably wise not to get involved with that. Delirium mentions druidic law on noninterference, and Rolfor nods, saying that staying out of it was probably best then, considering that he has been posing as a druid to the people.

Keen appears out of the woods behind Delirium, carrying the injured guard. He gives the man over for further care and asks not to be disturbed again because, unlike Quain, he actually wants some damn sleep tonight. He mentions to Rolfor that the church fire is not oil based, so the spell he taught will work this time, and returns to the woods. Rolfor creates a large raincloud and puts that now burning church out.

The team meet up again and discuss what to do. Irah produces the scroll, mentioning that he should probably summon the ferryman back now, and that hopefully he’ll arrive before Saepin does with reinforcements. When asked what the signal is, he pauses though, having not asked beforehand. With help from Rolfor and a little input from Kaieth, they realise that it is a simple light signal.

Irah asks Nestor, as the youth is the only candidate still standing at this point, if it is okay that they send the signal off. Nestor turns to Matrim, who is breathing heavily and leaned against a crate, and gets a nod from the older man. Nestor in turn gives Irah permission to read the signal scroll.

Irah decides to return to the beach where they landed to cast the spell and leaves to do so. When he casts the spell on the beach, a green light launches into the sky and explodes like a firework. It stays there for a good five minutes before finally fading.

Meanwhile, Delirium goes to the mayor’s house and asks to talk to Seoran. Kaieth, not trusting the man, escorts him. When they speak with the disgraced candidate, Delirium reveals quietly (out of Kaieth’s impressive earshot) to him that he is indeed not with the Domain and is intending to overthrow it. He asks Seoran if he knows people in the Empire who would want to help him. Seoran doesn’t believe him and refuses to speak. Delirium shrugs and the pair leave the building.

With the signal sent, Irah returns and they discuss what to do now while they wait. Kaieth volunteers to wait at the beach for the boat. As he needs only enter a trance for four hours, he argues that it makes the most sense for him to be there. A member of Quain shyly offers to give them a roof over their heads, but is scared away by Delirium.

In the end, Irah, Rolfor and Delirium camp by the docks and wait for the boat, and pray that Saepin doesn’t arrive sooner. While Irah is setting up the tent, Delirium speaks with Nestor, telling him the same thing he told Seoran and asking if Nestor wanting to join him. Nestor doesn’t answer, and Delirium doesn’t push, leaving the youth to decide on his own. He makes the same offer to many townsfolk over the next half hour before everyone turns in for the night.

Morning comes and so does the boat. Not the ferry the party had come in on, but another filled with Domain troops. Kaieth welcomes the cleric who is clearly leading the troops and she greets him warmly. As Kaieth escorts them to Quain, the cleric explains that they had been waiting out to sea for the signal, and this was always the plan; either they would come to take order once the party were successful, or would wipe the town out if they were not.

Entering Quain, Irah welcomes the troops also and the cleric greets him by name, though he cannot remember her. He also has a bit of bad news: Delirium is gone. A boat is also missing, so they believe he snuck out in the early hours of the morning before everyone else woke up. The cleric is not worried, saying that Quain is her focus and that she should meet with the mayoral candidates, or at least the ones still eligible.

She heals Matrim properly and they depart to replace the guard with as little fuss as possible.

Kaieth draws Irah away for a moment and asks if Delirium really ran off or if that was the cover story for ‘I killed him’. If the latter, Kaieth would not betray him. Irah dashes the elf’s hopes, however, and tells him that Delirium really has run off.

The trio spend the rest of the morning packing up, when the cleric instructs them to come over to the main square. She has constructed a teleportation circle and says it will take them back to the Domain, and specifically the castle. She tells them all to stand in the circle and she will send them back as the Lord Chamberlain wishes to debrief them and set them their next mission.

As the teleportation spell begins, Rolfor tries to grab the cleric, not quite trusting where they’re being sent, but the woman dodges his grasp. The last thing he sees is a very angry look on her face before it is replaced with the castle’s entrance hall.

They all swiftly make their way upstairs to the chapel, and are greeted by the Chamberlain, who congratulates them on a job well done. He directs them to a map of the world and tells them the next stage of the Domain’s plan:

The party is to gain a foothold on the western coast of the continent, Pentalis. There are four cities of importance: Cassiva, a heavily fortified city to the south-west; Gorvick, a well off fishing city; Sanvale, a wealthy port town that focused on trade; and Junn, a small fishing village that held great strategic value in the north-west. They are tasked with taking the three smaller cities for the Domain, allowing places for soldiers to make landfall. Once all three cities were taken, the collected army would assault Cassiva.

The Chamberlain tells them that they are to head to Gorvick first, where a scout has enlisted the aid of a guide for the party. He then calls the debriefing to an end, saying that they have earned some rest and to take a few days before continuing their work.

And so, the session ends.

#D&D #The Dark Domain

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willpowerbutch · 7 years

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Donald Trump: An Investigation, Part 1

By Willpower Butch

It is the wisdom of many erudite historians that what social, economic, and existential ills are not caused by the government are the work of anal omnivores. Since the untimely French vacation of eminent manly man Jack Palance in 1963, the core of the American political regime and the organized wedding pansies have been one and the same. In an age where many crimes go unaccounted for -- from ukulele loners to interactive Barbie phalloplasty kits -- one matter in particular is near to the substantial biceps of Manly Men! Magazine’s editorial staff. By way of investigating Paul Dano’s illegal gaysexualization of Sad Gandalf’s dick magnet, correspondent Paragon Shag proceeded with all haste to the residence of Donald J. Trump, America’s most prominent true crime celebrity and sheik of sexual harassment on earth, who could surely answer his enlarged questions. Armed on this holy mission with only a family-size canister of drugstore blush, he embarked from his Rhode Island property on Good Friday, 2017, ignorant of the Spanish activist poetry that awaited him.

Cant-bro I: Escaping the Wood

Passing from the cul-de-sac of his condemned bourbon mattress into the backwoods from Gus Van Sant’s Japanese suicide fetish, Shag felt his ankle hair shrivel into nanciful fuzz. His heart was stopped by a flood of genteel dignity. “Lesbians,” he whispered, pouncing behind a boulder just as the grotesque silhouette of a buzz-cut, muscle-shirt-clad pregnantagonist emerged from the tight opening between two arched fruit trees. Slowing to adjust her pocketless denim, the mammarian sniffed the air carefully. Upon detecting the spice of heterosexual perfection, she made her way to Shag’s rock. She halted before it and touched the surface, causing the stone to crumble into the chalk of a million surprise Ecstasy fellatios. Shag clutched his package as he came indecently into view of the she-man.

“You think you can infect us with rape culture?” she screamed. “We may all be vegan indie rappers, but that doesn’t mean we won’t enjoy watching you spin on a medical dildo to the soundtrack from The Joy Luck Club, Testomorph.” Her eyes glinted with body-positive armpit worship. “This is for Wonder Woman.” Brandishing her boy band-scented implements, she approached Shag, channeling the evil power of quinoa. “Say goodbye to your white privilege.”

Suddenly, a monster truck of sacred light descended from the treetops, and before them appeared the long-dead ghost of Mickey Rourke. Shag recoiled in manly courage, but the fair-weather Buddhist was undeterred. “You think you can fight me with a freezer-burnt church stroker? I have the miracle of childbirth on my side,” she snorted with disdainful laughter.

The shade crouched low, drawing his gargantuan arm back, and took a deep drag from his coal cigar. “Children are pussies,” he roared, and with that, he let fly his fist. It connected with her chin, sending the womosexual high into the air, into the sun, vanishing from sight like Dominic Monaghan.

Shag exhaled his morally ungay emotion. Left alone with this stranger, it occurred to him that the phantom may not be all that it seemed until, finally, it addressed him. “If I have to look at these goddamn trees for five more seconds, I’m gonna beat them into popsicle sticks.” Shag relaxed then, reassured that it was truly the spirit of his late gym partner.

“Help me, sir, for I am on a butch task to make Donald Trump answer for his Edith Piaf slippers,” appealed the correspondent. He then bit off his own breast envy and broke down into a display of armless push-ups. Moved by Shag’s engorging virility, Rourke flexed his affirmation, and the two individual men set out in vague, unlubricated proximity of each other.

After a distinguished silence, Shag asked Rourke how he had come to know of Shag’s throbbing adventure.

“The guy who told me to come is the baddest motherfucker of any of us,” said he. “He makes Arnold Schwarzenegger look like Jean-Claude van Damme.”

“No,” replied Shag in disbelief. “It cannot be.”

“You bet your ass it’s David Carradine,” shouted Rourke, kicking a squirrel.

Heartened by the muscular attention of his hero, Shag and his comrade boarded the train to Satan’s province and began their long travail.

Cant-bro II: Limbo

When Shag awoke, they had arrived in the first circle of hell. “Why is everyone bent over?” he asked. “Is this some sort of Episcopalian ritual?”

“No, man,” came Rourke’s hushed warning. “It’s the Greeks. God threw them in the bullshit for inventing shade.” So distressed was my friend the correspondent at the sight of ethnics trying to deal with Joan Crawford that he fell back swiftly into a troubled sleep.

Cant-bro III: Gays

He came to once more to the sound of innocent children being corrupted by manga. “Where are we now?” Shag inquired of his guide and then noticed heterosexfully that Rourke was sitting by the opposite window, a crossbow lodged under his heroically swelling nipples. “Are we under attack?”

“Yes,” the manly man growled back. “We are under attack for our marriage.” It was then that Shag heard a loud synthesizer from without the train, and the car pendulated. Thrown up against the glass, he saw with his own eyes what was destroying America: dozens of small gays ramming up against the cabin like erect wasps, violently knitting war film bisexuals. In the center of them emerged a glittery, Baileys-drenched ‘70s muscle stripper, the sight of whom caused Shag’s blood to freeze. “Darling! You came back for another taste of my see-through ice cream!” purred the woman. It was Ben Whishaw, undulating in his bead skirt as he stroked a hand sensuously through the bristles of his porn mustache. Aroused by the presence of sweaty men, he came to alertness out of his Tylenol-induced strip-tease and, after disentangling himself from a blonde naval street predator, he leapt through the open window beside Shag.

“My love!” he exclaimed, demurely licking Shag’s stratum of chest hair. “Don’t be afraid. I’m a changed man. Look!” Whishaw touched his upper lip proudly. “I’ve become a straight!”

“Don’t listen to Hindu Rachel Weisz,” yelled Rourke. “She’s tryna slip white wine in your vodka!”

Shag karate-chopped the wall, sending a number of homosexists flying. “I will never fund your bearded child pageant!” he declared. With that, he lifted Whishaw high above his head and tossed him back out the window like a paper mache lioness. “Go peddle your human protein shakes elsewhere, Boy George!”

Soon, Paragon Shag slumped back in his seat, exhausted by his sacred duty to resuscitate divorce. The manly men’s train pulled out of the gay wastelands skillfully, and as it did, they heard in the distance the nasal voices of trendy Jesuits seducing Mahler fairies at a midnight Waffle House as they descended further into America.

Cant-bro IV: KFC

“What is the meaning of this?” Shag demanded as their vessel nose-dived into a lake of fiery chicken grease. “You cannot tell me that the ‘90s is here, too?” Rourke shook his head and indicated out the window, where Shag beheld a remarkable thing: an enormous structure in the shape of God’s preference of men, its tip aglow with yellow lights. It read, ‘Drumpf Shaft.’ Shag looked upon it with his mouth open, doused in pure, volcanic admiration.

“Why,” Shag breathed, “I don’t believe I have ever beheld such an attractive spectacle.” The thing rose so high and proud that it blotted into the sun, casting the netherworld in moist darkness. “It must be so wonderful on the inside. Shall we try to see it up close?”

Losing patience, Rourke disciplined my friend with a majestic bitch parade. “That’s how the queers get you,” Rourke cautioned him. “One day you’re admiring each other’s towers, and the next he’s licking Halloween glitter off your sliding back door.” Shag swallowed his disgust, and his arm hair grew three inches in manly indignation. So that’s what happened to James Franco, he thought bitterly.

Their train continued to slice through the countryside, leaving far in its wake the many fabulants of years past who had made the world today such a cataclysm of Nancy Sinatra hookers. A rare calm befell them. As Shag stretched out again, lulled by the peaceful monsoon winds and the biblical throw-downs of slap-fighting car wash preachers, he confided in his companion. “If it could only be like this always. Always men. Manly men. The manliest-tempered ungay fruit ripeness of muscle manliness. Men.”

TO BE CONTINUED

***

About the Authors

Admiral Willpower Butch cemented his reputation as the 21st century’s most important journalist when he became the first member of the press to condemn Antonio Banderas for seducing America. Today, his various masculine pursuits include stealing the rest of John Waters’ mustache, hacking down the Amazon with his fists, and not having cried since Rock Hudson was born. His friend and faithful correspondent, Paragon Shag, is driven to righteousness by the memory of Colin Firth’s heterosexuality. Their secretary, Dead Summer Days, is the kind of guy who practices karate in public restrooms.

#attempted satire #obviously #willpower butch #donald trump #paragon shag #investigation #vague mentions of #paul dano #ben whishaw #humor #dante #inferno #parody

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