by Ari Collins
He opened his laptop upon waking, queuing his orc mage, xXPwnershipXx, for heroic dungeons. He topped off his piss bottle, then typed, “slooooow queue! where my healers at?” Trade Chatters’ usual “at YOUR MOMS”-type response never came. Odd. And not one of his guildies was online?
He got up and walked to the window.
Saturday, January 9, 2010
Cataclysm
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3 comments:
This is great.
At first I didn't get it.
Then I reread it. And I did get it.
And it was great.
Thanks, guys! This one wrote itself, although it was only the space limitations that kept the ending so nicely understated. Hooray for space limitations!
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