NOW LIVE! Today's the day you meet your new best friend. You don’t have to leave Wolfy behind... In 'Pets & Sidekicks' your companions level up with you!

Reply to thread

Message: <blockquote data-quote="Tolen Mar" data-source="post: 2428998" data-attributes="member: 1295">RazorWhy are the cute ones always riding squirrels these days?By the time she showed up, I had already had the worst day possible.  Well, it started last night actually.  I shouldn’t have invited ‘Razor’ to the game.  He shows up at six o’clock topless, with these Matrix looking sunglasses on.  I should have known as soon as I saw the nickname he used online.  It was a disaster.  I mean the game went well enough.  Our new friend stayed in character most of the time, it was his decision to kill the rest of the party that didn’t jive too well.  It led to a car chase, machine guns, grenades.  However, he never got out of character.  Everything he said throughout the night was in character, with a Keanu accent.  I was beginning to think he really believed he was the one.  The worst part was when he tried to talk Karen into being his love interest, and then started trying to feel her up.  She decked him, breaking thos expensive sunglasses and ran off.Then he started to pout.  He moped around in the basement (where the game was set up) until finally I gave up dropping hints and went to bed.  When I woke up, he was gone.  So were my books, record sheets, dice, pencils…even the bloody pencils!  I called in to work then.  I wasn’t about to let him run off with every bit of gaming material I ever had.  After all there are some things a person just doesn’t do.  I took to the streets.  All I had was a bicycle.  Gas prices were outrageous these days, and I don’t have to buy fuel for a pair of pedals.  I knew where Razor was supposed to live, but when I got there, all I found was a run down tenement house with…was that Abe Lincoln? out in front.  I rode up to him and asked him about Razor.“Excuse me, sir.  Have you seen Razor around here?”“Who?” he asked.  I swear, if ever I heard ole Honest Abe talk, that’s exactly how I expected him to sound.“Razor,” I explained, “About five nine, no shirt, maybe a pair of broken sunglasses?”Abe ruminated a moment.  Its amazing how language oldens when you are talking to someone from nearly two hundred years ago.“Razor.” He muttered.  “I cannot tell a lie, he doesn’t live here anymore.”Great, I thought to myself, now we have presidents quoting each other.“Well do you know where he does live now?”  It was hard to keep the exasperation out of my voice, and I admit I failed.  He got a stern look on his face, pointed his cigar at me (did Abe smoke?), and launched into a tirade about respecting one’s elders.  He finished off by telling me to get lost, he had a speech to write.  I got lost.I had no idea what I was going to do now, my only lead had evaporated.  I started to pedal back to the street when I saw a black car pull in ahead of me.  I realized suddenly that it was Razor’s car.  I could just make out the remains of the sunglasses hanging from his ears.  Why he hadn’t removed them is beyond me.  He saw me, our eyes locked, and he gunned the engine.  Let me take a moment to tell you about his car.  It was about as wide as a train is long.  All chrome on the front grill, some older model muscle car that looked like the devil itself was grinning you down from the auto factory.  If the headlights were red, it would look like the most evil piece of machinery ever made.  As he barreled down the alley towards me, he flipped on the headlights.  They were red.I did the only thing I could do.  There was no way I was going to make it past him if I keep going, so I skidded around in a u-turn and made for the other end of the street.  I passed Abe, and briefly overheard ‘Four-score and seven years ago,’ as I whipped by.  I made it to the street just a hair’s breadth ahead of him, and as a hurtling bicycle is easier to turn than a hell-car, I avoided getting hit.  I heard him skid out into the street behind me, the bellows of angry drivers and their rather expressive horns.  I chanced to look behind me to see the beast barreling down on me.  I shouldn’t have looked.  If I hadn’t, I would have seen the stairs.I rattled to a stop at the bottom under my bike.  I felt like every bone in my body had decided to vacation without me.  The problem is, they had left without warning, through my skin.I was at the bottom of the stairs leading to an apartment in the basement of a building.  The door opened, and I rolled over to look.  I don’t know who opened the door, but he was holding a bemused look on his face.  Not that I noticed.  I was looking into the building at a pair of all too familiar faces.  Sue and Monte Cook were sitting there.  Apparently there was some sort of game designers party going on.  I’m not sure why the gnome was on Monte’s head, but judging by the look on Sue’s face, she had won the round.I untangled myself from the bike, and Sue came and helped me in.  She’s a nice person.  She helped bandage my wounds, while the others continued their bizarre games.  After I had been patched up, Monte came over and asked about my day.“So, how’s your day going?” he asked.“Aweful.” I replied.“Tell me about it.”So I did.  I told him about Razor, about the car from hell, even told him about Abe.  He smiled the whole time, and when I was finished, he whipped out a pad of paper and a pencil that had been stuck behind his ear (I never figured out how he stowed them there without them being noticed).“I think we can fix this.” He said, and began to write.  “You like squirrels?” He asked.“I guess so.” “Good.  Here’s what’s going to happen.  Your bike is fixed, you go on back home.  After a while, my friend Dana will arrive.  You’ll know her, she’ll be the one riding the squirrel.  She’ll take care of Razor for you and she’ll have the books with her.”“Just the books?” I asked.“Well, ok, then everything but the pencils.” He said, and made a few more notes in his pad.  Then he smiled, and stowed the pad and pencil back behind the ear, and led me to the door.“Wait.  Why no pencils?”If anything, the smile got bigger.  “I may be good, but I’m not that good.”Completely out of sorts, I got on my bike and headed back.  I was home before I realized that my wounded pedal mchine was back to normal.  It was getting late.  As I rounded the last corner, however, my blood froze.  Sitting in front of my house was the hell car.  Razor still sat in the driver’s seat.  The headlights were still red.  He shoved it into gear, and left smoke behind as his wheels struggled to gain a grip.  I was trapped…I had nowhere to go.  I watched those insane red eyes power towards me.  I chanced a lok in the windshield, and saw Razor.  His face was in worse shape than ever and I could swear I saw instead of a human eye, a red mechanical one.  The iris dilated downward to a point as his grin grew.Then his car was broadsided by a tanker truck full of milk.  I stood dumbfounded for some time.  I couldn’t believe my luck.  I mean after all, I’d heard of things like this…luck, fate, Deus Ex Machina, but I had never seen it happen in my life.  It was the sirtens that drew me out of my stupor.  I stepped aside as the ambulance showed up.  I let the professionals do their thing, and as I fumbled with the keys, Dana arrived.  She was riding a squirrel as big as a car, but by this time, I was too stressed out to care.  She dismounted, gave the creature a walnut as big as a basketball to chew on, and carried a bag my way.  In it was everything that Razor had inexplicably stolen.  Everything but the pencils.Why are the cute ones always riding squirrels these days?</blockquote>

Verification