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Bi God’s bons, hwat didest thou seien of min, thou litel cunte? Thou shalt knouen ich was gradūāten best in min classe in soldierie, and ich was in mani-fold skekeries on the Frenshe men, and I hawe more than thre hundred slaghs that ben verried. Ich am expertful in mancowe militaunce, and ich am the best longe-boue archer in all the Englisch hoste. Thou are nout to min but a newe marke. Ich wille thee sottili renden, semble-wise was neverte beholden; par fei! Thou think thou canst afforthe to speken that shite ouer the “Internet”? Think-agen, churl! as we speken nou, ich am spēking wit minen aspīeris in all of Engellonde, and thin estre bith spīen aboute noue, thus thou shalt fore-dighten before the storm, maddok! The storm that wille shenden that spītǒus frivōl thou namest “thine lif”. Thou art ded, childe. Ich can ben ought-wher, ought-tym, and ich can slen thou with ouer seven hundred methodes, and all bar-handed! Ich am not only expertful in bar-handed baratri, but ich haue infare to the pleine armurie of the host of engelonde, and ich wille emploien hit for slen thine spitous arse, mandrake mymmerkin. If only thou cǒuthest hauen knouen what unblessed pūnīciǒun thine littel “gleu” glose was about to cause, parchaunce thou hauen holden thine tǒng stille. But thou cǒuthest nout, thou didest nout, and now thou paien for hit, thou simpleton. Ich wille casten oute furour upon thee, and thou wille senchen in hit. Thou art utterly ded, mannikin.

The myriad of idiosyncratic atrocities bestowed on this chat from these juvenile delinquents have caused a monstruous amount of turmoil and I cannot fathom this type of malignancy. These futile behaviors have abruptly penetrated the purity of my dear soul.

I thought Jerma dreams were BS... until the other night. I know I know. Another "I had a dream about Jerma" post. I've been thinking about whether or not to post this for the last 3 days, since everyone and their grandmas are doing these posts. But whatever. Three nights ago I dreamt that I was watching a jerma stream and he did something so utterly hilarious that I bursted out laughing so hard that I actually woke up from it. I looked for my phone to write down what he was doing (because it was 2 am and I needed to go back to sleep) but I couldn't find it for the life of me. Then in the corner of my eye a webcam appeared and it was Jerma laughing his ass off saying "chat he can't find it" and "he doesn't know pepeface". I was still dreaming lmao. I saw chat and it was just a wall of OMEGALULs. The whole situation was hilarious so then I woke up for real this time. Unfortunately because of the nature of the dream I can't remember what he was doing originally that was so funny. I think he was choking on a piece of bread or something.

I own a musket for base defense, since that's what the developers intended. Four Syndicate dunderheads breach my front gate. "What the Ignis?" As I grab my cold resistant metal armor and musket. Blow a pal sphere sized hole through the first thug, he's dead on the spot. Draw my make-shift pistol on the second thug, miss him entirely because it's crafted from spare parts and nails the neighbor's Rayhound. I have to resort to my Lamball and the mounted rocket fortification at the top of the stairs. "Tally ho lads" the shrapnel shreds two thugs in the blast, the sound and extra shrapnel set off the neighbors alarm bells. Ready my metal spear and charge at the last terrified rapscallion. He bleeds out waiting on the PIDF to arrive since thirty-seven stab wounds are impossible to stitch up. Just as the developers intended.

I finally did it. I out-pizza'd the Hut. It was the greatest mistake of my life. After years of perfecting my recipe, I made my way down to the local hut, fresh-baked pizza pie in hand. "Try this," I told the kid working the counter. He did, and he had to agree that it was better than anything Pizza Hut had to offer. Soon, the entire store, customers included, was feasting on my delicious pie. The manager walked over, grabbed a slice, and took a bite. I look at him, anticipation rising. This was the boss, the local fief lord of the Hut. His approval meant more to me than all the rest combined. He took a bite and nodded. "I'll be damned," he said, "you really did it. You out-pizza'd the Hut. Shame." Shame? What did he mean by tha- the manager pulled a gun out from behind his apron and shot the nearest customer in the head. "We have a Code Jalapeño," he said into his wrist as he executed the remaining customers. "I repeat, we have a Code Jalapeño." The ground was slick with blood. The kid working the counter choked out his dying breath as the manager turned to me. "You just had to do it motherfucker. You just had to out-pizza the Hut." He shoved the gun in my face. I was too scared to fight, too scared to run. The manager pulled the trigger. A click. The gun was empty. I threw a chair at the manager and scrambled out of the Pizza Hut, not even bothering to see if my missile hit its mark. I was closely pursued by the manager, who had gotten his hands on a deadly sharp pizza cutter. I suspected in his hands it would cut more than pizza. Somehow, I was able to get into my car and speed off, the manager cursing my existence as I left him behind. I took a deep breath. The manager was clearly psychotic. Yes, that was it, just a crazy man with a gun. It had to be. My phone rang. Sister. I picked it. "They're dead, she sobbed. They're all dead. M-mom, dad, Chris, Bill. Dead. They killed them all." I could barely understand her, so great were her sobs. "What do you mean? Where are you?" I asked urgently. "How is this possi-" a single gunshot sounded through my phone's speakers. Silence. Then, I heard a man's voice. "No one out-pizzas the Hut." He hung up. I drove down the empty county road, mind blank. I had nothing. They killed my family. I was alone. At that moment I knew what I had to do. They took everything from me. Well then, I would take everything from them. Pizza Hut was so terrified of being out-pizza'd, they forgot there's one thing worse than a man with a recipe: A man with nothing to lose. I'll give them a limited time offer they won't be able to refuse: two bullets for the price of one. With a free side order of pain.