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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.

tare you kidding me? i spent so much money on you, tier 3 every month and you’re not even going to be on Twitch anymore? this is unjust! not to mention the countless channel points ive collected to redeem on POKI stickers and maybe even more! ResidentSleeper, L streamer.

Your eyes slowly open. Crusty from months of wear from stray globs of semen and cosmic dust. You are in a room and you can no longer see your member, or rather, what was left of it. There are tubes leading away from your pelvis, pumping and pulsating. There is a glass window across from you and a person dressed in a white jacket. A woman. She looks up from her clipboard to see you are awake. At first she is uninterested, but then her eyes slam open and a beaming smile crosses her face. Her eyes filled with curiosity. “You’re awake!” She cries over the loudspeakers that you only just now notice embedded into the top corners of the room. “Where am I?” You ask, filled with fear and excitement. You thought you would never see a human again and you would be destined to suffer endlessly across the cosmos. “You are on Saturn. You crashed into it and due to it’s extreme mass you were able to stop. We picked you up because you may be the key to saving humanity for all eternity.” “How?” You ask as a smile begins to creep across your face, imagining that you could be an icon for humanity. “You have been addressed as the Cosmic Unknown Mass Semen Generator, or CUMS-G for short. The fault in reality that caused your affliction can be used for the good of humanity. By using the mass you produce we will never have to worry about energy again, as by converting your biomass into energy we have unlimited power for the rest of time. When the stars die and the cosmos sink into nothing, humanity will be able to continue thanks to you. The anomaly that created you is easily one of the greatest discoveries humanity has ever had, on par with the discovery of fire.” “Will I not die?” “You can’t die. You are immortal. You don’t even have a body and yet you continue to exist” … Hours later, she leaves to tell her superiors. They do not greet you. They exchange high-fives and party but they do not speak to you. Months pass. The cum accelerates. Then years. The cum accelerates. Then decades. The cum accelerates. Then centuries. The cum accelerates. Then eons. The cum accelerates. No one talks to you. You don’t even know if humanity is alive anymore or if they have left you to exist for the rest of eternity. The tubes around you have gotten far thicker and more high tech as the ferocity of your semen expulsion increased. Eventually the walls around you cave in. Only then do you see the truth. Their plan was flawed.

whats that? holy shit. holy fucking shit. you fucking genius. did you actually just correct someone's spelling? you fucking madlad. i can't believe i just witnessed one of the greatest achievements in human history right now. i think im gonna cry, im so excited. to be honest, i would suck your dick to reward you for your HUGE contribution to the human race if the line wasnt so long. you know what? fuck it. ill let you fuck my wife. ill pay you to fuck her. only for the slim chance that one of her kids will have a small part of your magnificent iq. ill mortgage my fucking house just so you could have 15 minutes with her, while hoping that your MASSIVE cock won't rip her in half. after that, we should start a religion for you. fuck jesus, the only thing this dick did is resurrect himself. you are entitled to the praise he's getting. we should make you immortal. losing you would mean stopping the human evolution and we would all revert to monkeys, not that we are more than monkeys in your majestic presence. I suggest we go to the UN and tell them to hand over all their authority to you, im sure you can unite all the people of the world just with a single swing of your cock, making the entire population wet in the process. just before that one more thing: can you shut the fuck up? nobody cares about that fucking typo you single chromosomed retarded gnome. I bet you think you are so fucking smart and witty after pointing something that didnt bother anyone. God, you are fucking pretentious, i bet you actually believed all of the text above. Did you think i would let you fuck my wife? She is only 12 you sick paedophile. Im calling the police so you could be tortured for eternity while your remains will be forcibly fed to everybody from your family or anyone even remotely related to you while they are forced to anally fuck a penguin. no, seriously do you think i'm joking? i'll come to your house and fuck your ass with a cactus. not that you would feel it after all the things you already had up there. you're a fucking twat that doesnt contribute to society and you deserve to die slowly.

Not likely. I bet you probably go 0/6 against him and come to Reddit afterwards to complain about him so you can feel better about losing. I'm 100% convinced that the same people who like to joke about a Master Yi's "thought process" are the same people who whine about Aatrox and Katarina because they haven't got a clue what grievous wounds is. Every champion has a counter, if you don't understand Master Yi's counter (jungle invading, timing abilities, proper itemization), then why do you bother to circlejerk the "Master Yi is broken" stereotype?

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.