Never have you been so bored in your life. You are the average working man, trying to make a quick buck and sustain yourself. You’ve had to work at that shitty Wonderland Pizzeria since you dropped out of college. It wasn’t because you couldn’t handle the work, no.
IT WAS BECAUSE YOU’RE TIRED OF BY MOLESTED FIVE TIMES IN DAY!
You should have expected it, considering that Monster girls also attended that college. Why do they attend it? Hell if you know. Guess they can think about more than just how many dicks they can stick in themselves at one time. As you sit in your bedroom, the loud drone of raindrops hitting the window pervades. You’re fucking glad you didn’t have to work today. It’s a deluge out there. You’d be surprised if any businesses were still open at all, considering the flood watch in place over the city. You guess people still have to make a quick buck somehow. Seeing as how you can’t really do anything, you’ve resigned yourself to reading shitty fan fics on the interwebs. This one is real good. The writer here is trying to display the anguished emotion of some bloke whose proud dragon waifu turned into a brain dead bimbo. Hell if you know how, as the writefag didn’t bother explaining it. Just how is this man so pissed of and angry, at how this could happen to him? He’s done nothing wrong, its just the Demon Lord’s fault. The poorly conveyed anger is all caps…
What an idiot…
Somehow, over the endless patter of rain, you can here your neighbor listening to her shitty and angsty screamo music. It belongs to the dead horse rap and rock genre: Nu-metal. You sigh as you here the band’s front liner go on about something crawling in his skin, and his supposed emcee buddy rap about how he tried so hard and got so far, but in the end it didn’t even matter. ‘How could people listen to this shit?’, you wonder. Then you remember that you listen to that white rapper who sings about homosexuals, various STDs and Vicodin. Maybe you’re not so different…
Suddenly, your attention is drawn to someone knocking at your door. Who the fuck could want to visit you at this day and time? With a sigh, you get up from your comfortable seat and head to the door. While you’re in transit, the person knocks a second and third time.
‘Hold on! I’m coming!’, you scream. Grumbling a couple expletives, you crack open the door and peer through the tiny opening. Before you can react, the visitor barges into your home, simultaneously knocking you on your ass. Indignant , you prepare to chew this fucker’s ear off, until you get a good look at what exactly it is.
Standing above you is a Mocha-colored Jabberwock. Bitch must be at least seven feet tall. Unkempt lavender hair flows all the way down to her tail, which is just as long as she is tall. Her arms and legs are covered in maroon scales and two tentacles sprout from her back. Her wings are folded for the current moment. The Jabberwock is wearing this pink, frilly dress with a red bow tie wrapped around her collar.
God damn, that dress is dangerously short…
Acting quickly, you pick yourself up off the ground. Suddenly your door slams shut and now the Jabberwock is leaning over you. You try and keep calm, but mind is screaming on the inside. She looks pretty though, and…
GOD DAMN IT BRAIN! THINK WITH REASON, NOT THE DICK!
The Jabberwock straightens her posture, leaving you staring at that delicious Mocha valley. Those are some serious sweater puppies, and those hips don’t lie, either. She pulls this slip of paper out of nowhere. Is she preparing to serenade you? You notice that the back of the paper is stylized with an Ace of Spades and a Joker. Clearing her throat, the Jabberwock begins to read what has been written.
“Greetings, dear sir! I have come for your Vorpal Blade!”
“Do not misunderstand, I want your dick, right?”
“Um, yes! Your dick shall be mine! Your pelvis’ days are numbered!”
“I’m not necessarily down for wild, anonymous sex, miss…?”
“Nonsense! All…wait, hold on…”
You watch in disbelief as the Jabberwock stares intently at her…script?
“Shit…lost my spot…”
Deciding that you’ve had enough weird shit for today, you try and ask the Jabberwock to leave.
“Excuse me, miss-“
Nearly jumping out of your skin at her sudden outburst, you clutch your heart in fear.
“Ah, fuck it. I’ll come back another time…”
Sighing in frustration, the Jabberwock turns and opens your door, muttering a few apologies along the way. Once she is out of door, you stare dumbfounded at your door for the longest time.
What the fuck just happened?
Across the street, the screamo music shifts tone to how the singer has become so numb and can’t feel ‘you’ near.
You definitely need a drink…