Chapter XVII: The Cunts, the Retards and the Faggots
Steve finished the final word of his latest epic, leaning back in triumph. His last few days had been spent in a strange haze of alcohol, ketamine and writing, leaving him particularly confused. Never the less, he had finished his work, just in time for the glorious contest held by Sir Bucky. He quickly handed his grand tome into the library, to be entered in with all the other classics such as the local Ogre's tome "How to be an Accountant: Featuring animals, maybe", the local Squinty's tome about other Squintys, and the classic "Fuck, sweaty men in baths makes me so fucking.. Gladiators! I mean Gladiators! Gladiators are cool!" by his old friend Mr Lacker. Steve didn't particularly fear his competition, so decided to saunter back to his home in the Council's tower.
After a long walk, Steve finally arrived back at the tower, pushing the door open with a tired groan, before collapsing to the ground, violently shitting himself and passing out.
Some amount of time later, he awoke, finding himself lying somewhere other than where he fell asleep. At first, Steve assumed that the Council had tufted him into a coffin, and began to scream in horrified terror.
"Are you alright?" a nearby voice
Hearing a friendly voice, especially in Cystia, Steve assumed he was about to be raped, had been raped, or was in the process of being raped. His screaming lowered down to a whimper, as he looked up to see a woman in one of those stupid modest dresses. Steve wondered if she was the chick from Misery, and he'd been kidnaped to write a sequel to one of his books, before remembering that no one actually ever read his stories, and he was still probably about to be raped. Still, the bed he was in was pretty comfortable, so he decided it wasn't worth resisting, and tried to get back to sleep.
"You probably shouldn't sleep. You might have a concussion," Annie Wilkes from Misery said.
"Probably," Steve agreed, before once again closing his eyes and pressing his face into the pillow.
"I really think you should get out of bed, if you're able," Annie Wilkes from Misery said.
"Ugh," Steve grunted, before clambering out of bed. "Fine, fine, have it your way. Where am I, anyway?"
"You're in the Council of Nine's tower," Annie Wilkes from Misery explained.
"That can't be true. If that was the case, you wouldn't be here, and I'd have been stabbed a few more times in my sleep."
Steve paused, confirming that the wet patches covering his body were various places he'd puked upon rather than stab wounds, before continuing.
"Who the hell are you?"
"Oh, I'm..." Annie Wilkes from Misery said, before talking for an extended length, as Steve zoned out and began to feel self-conscious about the fact that no one had even tried to rape him in his sleep. However, in his stupor, he caught that she was a Mormon and had a kid, and came up with an appropriate replacement for whatever her real name was.
"Alright Mormom, show me about the place. What's changed while I was in my stupor?"
Mormom quickly led Steve around a tour of the tower, as he zoned out and thought about how no one had tried to rape him again. He noticed the Australian fucker's room was empty, and assumed he'd suffocated on his chest hair, or however Australian's die. He was bumped into the blind one on the way walking down the stairs, and paused in confusion as she spoke other than gibberish.
"Oh shit, he's here," May complained. "I thought we killed you."
"What? English? You're not supposed to speak English. How is that fair?!" Steve said. "I don't like this. Change it back!"
Steve drew his dagger, lunging forward in an attempt to stab out the language part of the blindy's brain so she'd go back to speaking English, before missing and tumbling further down the stairs.
"Are you OK?" Mormom cried down the stair case, as Steve sighed, standing up.
"Oh, you're alive," Lady Mizal noted. "Ugh."
"Hey, what the fuck's going on?" another voice asked.
Steve watched, as some winged motherfucker showed up. Steve paused, looking at him feeling annoyed. This fucker certainly seemed like someone people would want to rape in his sleep.
"Who the hell is this?" Steve asked.
"I'm new here," Angel Fuck answered.
"We're letting in new people!? Why is that something we're doing! I liked the old people! Well I didn't, but I hated them less than these new fucks!"
"Oh, Steve's alive," Bucky said, walking into the room with a pile of books in his hands. "Did you finish your contest entry? I'm trying to read through them now."
"He's back!? I thought we hated him and he left! God, I never understand what's going on. There's like fifty of us now!" Steve complained.
"We need the numbers," Mizal said.
"Fuck that, we're becoming like the Simpsons or something, with like fifty thousand episodes! Soon we're going to focus on side characters like Mr IAPS or something. I don't want this!" Steve howled, his complaints growing louder as he watched a Male Squinty walk past, while they wouldn't even let in his Girl Squinty for being too happy to be a villain. This was bullshit.
Meanwhile, everyone else just kind of went back to doing what they were doing, leaving Steve to bitch by himself.
"Tim Tim Tim?" Tim asked, appearing from behind behind the curtains.
Steve wondered what Tim was doing behind the blinds, before the crashing realization that they now left Tim in and the Council of Nine were a bunch of faggots hit him. Steve fumbled for his dagger, wondering how long it would take to bleed to death if he slashed his wrists, before realizing he'd lost it somewhere on his tumble down the staircase. He sighed, before deciding not to kill himself just yet.
"Lady Mizal, you cunt!" Steve said, hurrying after the uppity bitch. "Why do we have so many people!?"
"I told you, we need the numbers," Mizal replied. "Now fuck off, you cunt."
"Why do we need the numbers?" Steve asked.
"A war is about to start, and I'm trying to prepare! Now fuck off! If you want to be helpful, go kill yourself so I don't have to deal with your shit!"
Steve paused, wondering if it was worth it trying to explain how he did try, but he couldn't find his knife, before stumbling away, back to the doorway. He pushed the door open, heading into the streets, before pausing as he saw the large, dark shapes of towers around the town. Those were new.
"Hey, what's going on?" Steve yelled inside the Council of Nine's tower.
Surprisingly, the Undead King walked out of the tower, looking to Steve.
"What are you whining about, faggot??"
"Fuck off, you rotting coc... I mean, what's the story with those towers?"
"They're from the other factions," the Undead King said.
"What, like the Sages and Architects and them?" Steve asked.
That wouldn't make sense, seeing as if they were based on the orders, there'd be only one new tower, and three gaping holes for the other faggots in their inferior orders.
"No, for the new gangs arising. Do you even pay attention, or has syphillis rotted your brain?"
"Gangs?" Steve asked.
Perhaps this was the competition Mizal feared. It would greatly increase Steve's chances of getting stabbed to death by his many, many rivals, so that was bad. However, gangs tended to mean that the street value of ket and MD plummeted, so that would be sweet.
"Who the hell are the gangs?" Steve asked.
"Well, there's us, for one," the Undead King said said. "The Villains, the same assholes you hang out with, the general villains of this place. Then, there's the Abused and the Fools."
"Go on," Steve said curiously.
"The Fools, led by the undying Ford hivemind, are just a bunch of people who do weird shit to each other in their tower and try to be funny. Really, don't pay them any mind. Then there's the Abused, led by the pale fucker Saika, where he's assembled a group of trolls and enemies of the state, forming them in order to oppose anything mean, spiteful or cruel. Really, a bunch of little bitches."
"Mean? Spiteful? Cruel? I'm those things! That's everything good about the site!" Steve said, wondering how quickly his enemy list had just grown. "I might actually need to team up with Mizal to sort this shit out."
"Oh, we're going to sort it out," the Undead King said. "War is coming, and it's about to start. Should be fun."
"So we have the Cunts, the Retards and the Faggots, and we're about to massacre each other. Grand craic, that is."
All of a sudden, Steve wasn't in a mood to die. Not when there was such a delightful scrap coming his way.
I cannot wait for what will no doubt be a thrilling next part to this story.
I had several chuckles over this. Mormom. Heh.
It's great to see you doing these again. Recent events have turned out to be hilarious for me as a spectator.
I hope Saika (I honestly never liked him much anyway) and his merry band of salty kids provide more motivation/stuff for you to use to write more of these. They always make me laugh. :)
Satire does seem to be a strong point for Steve.