But this is probably unadvisable, since you'd just make your room lousy with smoke! 04/16/09 "John: Select "HAMMER"." Your STRIFE SPECIBUS has been ALLOCATED with the HAMMERKIND ABSTRATUS.
It just so happens that today, the 13th of April, 2009, is this young man's birthday. 04/13/09 "John: Quickly retrieve arms from MAGIC CHEST." You retrieve your FAKE ARMS from the chest. 04/14/09 "John: Captchalogue smoke pellets." You stow the SMOKE PELLETS on one of your CAPTCHALOGUE CARDS in your SYLLADEX. Another day you marked was supposed to be the arrival date for the highly touted SBURB BETA LAUNCH. 04/16/09 "John: Captchalogue fake arms again." What did you just say?? 04/16/09 "John: Set Pesterchum status to "bully"." You don't think the situation is quite dire enough to go all the way to "RANCOROUS", but you still feel the PESTERCHUM client should reflect your mood change in some way. This definitely makes the CAKE at least 300% more hilarious.
Though it was thirteen years ago he was given life, it is only today he will be given a name! 04/13/09 "Enter name." 04/13/09 "Try again." 04/13/09 "Examine room." Your name is JOHN. You still aren't totally sure what that means, but you are starting to get the hang of the vernacular at least. 04/14/09 "John: Equip fake arms." You aren't totally sure if "EQUIP" is a verb copasetic with the abstract behavioral medium in which you dwell, but you give it a try anyway. Their card is underneath the one you just used to captchalogue the SMOKE PELLETS. You're sure COLONEL SASSACRE would know the precise index of elevated hilarity.
But your DAD swears on the many HALLOWED TOMBS of Egypt that it is not. On the other wall is one of your DAD'S stupid clowns.
Or HARLEQUINS, as he is quick to correct anyone who would venture such brazen assumption.
A fire BELONGS in a FIREPLACE, dammit, cata(ptcha)gorically, at all times, without exception.
As domestic myth of unaccountable origin holds, a home borrows the spirit of the flame for as long as it makes a guest of it, much as the moon takes liberty with the sun's rays. Check mail later." If you go down stairs to get it, he will likely monopolize hours of your time.04/18/09 "John: Captchalogue magician's hat." You expend your final card on the MAGICIAN'S HAT.Hey, welcome to the super cool low-tech search page! You like to program computers but you are NOT VERY GOOD AT IT. 04/13/09 "John: Quickly retrieve arms from drawer." Your ARMS are in your MAGIC CHEST, pooplord! Some of this stuff may come in handy at some point. You are so bad at programming sometimes you wonder why you even bother with it. That is to say, HE CAN HARDLY BE CONSIDERED A TERRIBLY PROPER GENTLEMAN AT ALL. 04/15/09 "John: Examine mailbox." The little red arm-swingy-dealy thing or whatever it is called is flipped up! It looks like your DAD has returned from the grocery store. Sometimes you feel like you are trapped in this room. 04/16/09 "John: Examine games on CD rack." You've put countless manhours into this assortment of quality titles. But to really dig into this hefty book, you will have to captchalogue it. Oh, right, you forgot your chum is still pestering you.To search for something, hit Ctrl F (or Apple F) and type what you're looking for. If your text is in one of the commands or captions, it'll show up here. 04/13/09 "Homestuck" A young man stands in his bedroom. You have a fondness for PARANORMAL LORE, and are an aspiring AMATEUR MAGICIAN. 04/13/09 "Remove CAKE from MAGIC CHEST." Out of sympathy for John's perceived lack of arms, you pick up the CAKE for him and put it on his BED. For now, you decide to just take the SMOKE PELLETS. 04/14/09 "John: Examine calendar." You've marked your birthday, the 13th of April. 04/14/09 "John: Eat cake." You are sick to death of cake!!! And you have no intention of clogging your SYLLADEX with it either. Stuck, if you will, in a sense which possibly borders on the titular. The clockwork of friendship turns ceaselessly, operating the swing-lever dealies of harassment in perpetuity! 04/16/09 "John: Read COLONEL SASSACRE'S DAUNTING TEXT." You decide to consult with the Colonel's bottomless wisdom. You are not sure you are ready to logjam your other ARTIFACTS beneath it just yet. In a momentary lapse of concentration, you accidentally captchalogue the arms again. 04/16/09 "John: Answer chum." |PESTERLOG| 04/16/09 "John: Combine fake arms with cake." You stick the FAKE ARMS in the CAKE on your bed."The moon's an arrant thief, and her pale fire she snatches from the sun." -Mark Twain You are almost certain Mark Twain said that. 04/18/09 "John: Topple urn." You clumsily mishandle the SACRED URN. In retrospect, upon mulling cinematic tropes regarding ash-filled urns, this outcome was a virtual certainty.