The screen was dead. The iridescent glow of the monitor was a dead black; the machine next to it sat ticking idly, like a car engine cooling down in the garage; his microphone—mute. He had traversed through the pits of the Undercity, passed the murky waters of Blackfathom Depths, and rid the Black Temple of its demon occupation, but never before had he see a darkness so pure, so absolute, so horrifying as the one he was staring into at that moment.
He blinked. And again. And again and all at once the reality of his bedroom crashed his mind like a brick though a window, knocking him out of his chair and onto a pile half-eaten cheese puff and potato chip bags.
“Ughhhh…what in Bronzebeard’s boots is going on?” Spank looked around his room to find The Lady of the Inn clutching the unplugged surge protector like a mother protecting her infant.
The Lady stood staring at her son—realizing right away that his fantasy-driven delusions had returned—And from the look of his pallid, cheese poof caked and mustard stained body, worse than ever, “Timothy?...It’s—”
“Mah lady, I respect your concern over the welfare of all those who dwell in your abode, but please hand over the surge protector, else you beith pwnd. And how many times must I tell you?—I know not of this sultry ‘Timothy’ character you speak. The name’s SpankadinL33T. Spank for short. It is known across all of Azeroth and you, my lady, have just denied me a great prize. A denial I will not soon forget.”
“What the fuck are you talking about? Listen—it’s too late for this crap. I have work in the morning. I’m calling Dr. Erbag to set up and appointment first thing tomorrow. Have your phone on.”
Just lost his WoW account.
“I have no need to see that gnomish donkeyfart. My inventory has a strong supply of health potions, and frostweave bandages. It’s just being excessive.”
The Lady of the Inn shook her head, “Not an option. I have half a mind to take you to the hospital right now.”
Spank eyed her suspiciously. Despite his delusions he knew The Lady had her limits, and in this instance she was not bluffing. Besides, it would be easier to dodge that nitwit Dr. Erbag tomorrow, than to fight with his intrusive keeper tonight. Slowly he spoke, “Very well then, my fair Lady of the Inn, you may head back to your chamber…for I am weary from battle, and long for sleep to wash over me.”
“…So no more elf game for tonight?...and doctor tomorrow?”
His eye twitched at the phrase “elf game” but he agreed, “Yes no more World of Warcraft tonight and I will see this ‘doctor’ of yours on the morrow.”
“Ok. Then go to sleep…we will get this all sorted out tomorrow,” she said, then hesitantly, “love you.”
The Lady dropped the surge protector and Spank rolled out of his trash pile and onto his bed—he could hear the worry in her voice and he felt something tighten inside of him, “I love you too…meh lady.”
She flicked off the light switch, walked out of his room and closed the door behind her He could hear her footsteps down the hall and her bedroom door shut. Silence. He rolled over in bed and shut his eyes, sleep taking him within moments. The night’s episode had ended in darkness, but not all was lost… Spank would live to fight another day.
Andrew Mausert-Mooney; circa 1987
2 comments:
hahaha yesss. beyond being flattered by my inclusion in your strange little world, I think this is my favorite of the 3 installations so far. this: "but never before had he see a darkness so pure, so absolute, so horrifying as the one he was staring into at that moment. " is really nice stuff.
i just give the people what they want. and they wanted a fat baby. so i gave them a fat baby.
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