It was the day of all days. I planned on finally exerting some of my blossoming masculinity on the two callow lads that were a year my minor. I was picturing how awesome I looked in my “confidence headband” when I slipped on that damned log and fell.
Guess which two faggots in this picture are going to get what’s coming to them?
They ran away, but I found a sword jabbed into a stone at the bottom of the waterfall—a not-subtle phallic invitation to a rite of passage. I didn’t know it would activate the 16-bit critters that explode or instantly reduce themselves to bones upon death. They barely pose a threat to anyone, really, but John gave me the boot and stood guard at the entrance like he would get laid for it. It’s alright. I hate that guy’s mustache anyways.
His facial hair looks even more retarded high up.
After I finish my quest in a few days’ worth of hours I’m going to go sword-broadside on those two towheaded bastards.
Banish image graciously stolen from trapword.com.