You walk over as smoothly and confidently as possible. A girl stops you on your way over and you drop some bills into her drink and tell her to find someone nicer at a nicer place. No one can say you don't have a heart. When you reach the American girl, you sit down next to her at the bar and ask what she's doing in a city like this and a suit like that. She smiles and says sightseeing during her downtime. You tell her the bar makes a fantastic B-52 going down. She says that she doesn't drink when she's got work in the morning. So what's she doing here? She's looking for someone. Who? Are you usually this forward? Moreso, actually. How daring. Humans are so bored of their daily lives that what they're looking for, usually, is a little spice, a little danger. She's not biting it. Interesting. She turns to her companion. They're platonic... no. HE'S PLATONIC, she wants the D. It might be the bomber in your gut talking, but you're sure of this one. Well, this is a lost cause. You tell her that he wants a normal girl and start away from her. She catches your sleeve and asks you why you think she isn't normal. You say that a normal girl would have gone down already. She raises an eyebrow and lets you go. Hmm. Paranoid to. Outside you start feeling the alcohol a bit more. How many did you even have? There was a seven somewhere in there. Fuck, balance is out. Okay, you've got this. You've actually stumbled your way through a negotiation and then blacked out and forgotten how you saved that girl. This is nothing. You fall over a bag. Who leaves a bag on the ground? She does. Girl you were looking for. She's real cute. You ask her if she's killed anyone lately. Whoops. She tells you that she'll be killing you later tonight. You ask if you can stay over at her house. She picks you up, dear god she's strong and places you on your feet. You ask if her bag is alright. She smiles and says no harm was done. Good, good. You ask her if she was serious about killing you. Her reply, "Deadly." You blink at her and start calling for a cab. She laughs and tells you that you won't be able to get a taxi like that. How then? Go to a place where they actually have regular hours. Oh. She tells you her house is nearby and that you'll have to keep up. You should... [] Falloo hare. [] Recline.
That's 'cause that shit's a myth, yo.
You have my blessing, then. I secretly hoped you crazy kids would make it work out somehow.
Should have given him some snap, crackle and pop.
Access should be under fanfiction, I believe. Yes, I understand the irony of me being the one to say that.
Are you ready to take that plunge?
You're not the biggest drinker on the planet. That is a reasonable supposition because although you can outdrink anyone you've met there are still more than a billion more people you've never seen drinking. That said, you're in the mood for something nice at least. Not some beer, beer is gross and cheap and unbecoming for a real human. Yes, you'd like something nice. Time to find a place in this city that will give you something worth downing. It's getting late by the time you find a dive that makes a decent Long Island Iced Tea. It's a regular hive of scum and villainy to be certain, but hell, you're used to that. You may not like these people and may not be able to fight with them, but you can deal with them well enough even when you're a bit tipsy. You've slammed back enough shots to bleed out an elephant and you're thinking about taking that next one already. You're stressed out, you noticed. You drink when you're stressed or worried. So what is it that's got you suddenly so worried? Was it Eff Bee? Was it Thorsen? Was it your intuition being off? You can't be sure, but you need to stop now. Work is work and this ain't work. You tip yourself onto the floor, wobbling slightly as you land. Well, coordination was never your game. You take a look around the bar, no one has noticed you. You take a look at your phone, it's time to find a place to stay. You're drunk, you don't necessarily look it, but you're not in any mind to make decisions as the ones you probably will make. You see a cute girl a few seats down, blonde hair tied into a very fitting tail. She seems to be followed by this kind of lame looking guy. They're Americans, you can tell. You should... [] Hit on her. [] Hot in hwr. [] Hpy um jdr. [] G ori Bj wf.
Then my work here is done. That's all I ever wanted you to do in the first place. It just would have been nice if you'd done so when you were supposed to.
I'll be precise for the sake of those unequipped to deal with reading anything on a more than literal level. Here's what a normal person would do. They'd observe the media placed in the OP with the express purpose of giving you information with which you'll be armed to actually make a relevant comment. A good person would probably also attempt to draw information from every other post in the thread as well. But here's what you did, you ignored the actual content in the OP in favor of the shallowest surface information you could glean. You gained no relevant information and decided to post as if you had any regardless and then instead of just leaving it at that you decided to basically defend that decision and insult people who are trying to teach you basic online etiquette.
Yeah, I know why you're on the poll for smartest member now.
Because you didn't fucking read the OP.
I only do this for your own good. What if you started flirting with him and then, "wham, bam, thank you ma'am," you're in it with a woolly fuckin' wookie. What then? What fucking then?
Trust me, you don't want what he's selling.
You try to get closer to the OR and see if it's open. Nope. Seems some poor sap is getting cut on by a murderer. No hurry though. You can wait her out. You are in no hurry at all. Two hours later. Anytime now, she has to end her day at some point. You do another round so you don't look suspicious. Two more hours and you're still waiting for that light to go out about the OR door. You consider getting lunch but decide that you need to see her again at least and confirm that she's the one you're looking for. Two more hours later. Jesus woman, can it be that hard to decide if you want them dead or alive? TWO MORE HOURS LATER. Okay, it's been a whole work day. Does it look like you were planning on waiting here all day? TWO MORE HOURS LATER. Okay, the light's out. You try to look casual, like there's nothing wrong. They walk out with a slab of meat on a stretcher, face is covered at least. There she isn't. Where'd she go? Did you miss a change or something? There was only one other place. Was your intuition wrong this time? So many questions. Well, you're done for the day. You need to... [] Find a place to sleep tonight. [] Find a place to drink tonight.
You are a bad person.
You'll need to bring this to me in graphical form, signed in triplicate before I can consider it valid for my findings.
Oh, come the fuck on. Do you not read the OP in other threads either and just comment on the title?
600 posts over 6 years and 8 months is less than 100 posts per year. So in three years you'll have under 900 posts. So at the rate you're going it will be at least 5 years before you hit premium.
