Smash neighbor [True Tales of Human Drama]

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Smash neighbor [True Tales of Human Drama]

Post by BegoneThoth » Sun Dec 09, 2018 10:24 pm

(I see no requirement for the 'talent show' to be Arelith exclusive anywhere and see a few non-arelith 'talent' examples so enjoy this)


The following story is 100% true, no fabrication or embellishment has taken place. Only the names have been changed to protect the identities of those involved.

I knew I was making a mistake, the first of three I'd make today, as I bought the new 'Smash' and headed home. I had made a promise to my third grade nephew, that even though I was moving out of state, I would still buy this game so we would still be able to play, at least, online games together, even though I wouldn't be around much. But still, as I held it in my hands, I knew something was wrong. I got home, and started down the twelve steps to my first floor apartment. My neighbor, a 41 year old grocery store employee, saw me coming. I realized, at that moment, that I had made two mistakes on that day; when I bought the game, I had said I did not need a bag, and my neighbor, Chris, noticed what I had in my hand. He was standing, leaning on the upstairs railing, overlooking the parking lot, he saw all that came and went.

"Is that Smash!?" he asked, bits of a chicken teriyaki submarine sandwich flying out of his mouth. "Uh, yeah, I got it so I could play online with my neph-" He cut me off. "WOW, you should come and visit, I have a great setup for some games! And a wired connection!" Before I could say no, he vanished inside, leaving his door open, for me to follow. I had no choice. I entered the forbidden zone, the dwelling of a dedicated Smasher.

As I walked in, the second thing I noticed, outside of the cocktail of body oder and old pizza permeating the air, was a very suggestive poster of a nude Peach and Samus embracing, right in the living room, directly behind his love-seat, which was all facing his giant TV. Chris was already sitting, he had slid some take-out and pizza boxes onto the floor and bode me to sit down. I did, Chris took the only controller he had into his hands and said, "Watch how good online is, with my wired adapter!"

"You can set the rules, here." He continued, as the game booted up and he flew through the menus, setting his game to some byzantine combination of lives, time, stages, and items, a combination I could not understand, but Chris blurted "These are the current COMPETITIVE rules!" I watched him set this all up and, feigning excitement, said "Ill take your word for it!" He finally hit play, and waited. The first match hit soon, but, something was wrong. Chris screeched, "ITEMS? FOUR PLAYERS?!" He practically lunged to the Switch, trying to turn it off. "Why not just play it out?" I innocently asked. Chris turned to me, and I realized I made my third mistake.

"Play it out?!" He said, the Switch still on, and loading. "PLAY IT OUT!?" He screamed again, his voice a terrible rumble that shook the very foundations of the building in which we resided. "I PAID MONEY FOR THIS! I WANT MY GAME!" he howled, his eyes turning red, glowing somewhat in his infernal fury. His hands turned into crude claws as his anger grew to levels not often seen on this plane of existence. His fingernails began to fire lasers throughout the room, fueled by his rage, lasers I had to quickly dodge. His screams became more debased, streams of magma poured from his eyes and onto the floor, quickly pooling into chunks of pumice stone. But I noticed he was still looking at the screen, somehow, he was still playing the game! Then, I saw it, and I knew hell was about to break loose, someone hit his Mewtwo in the back with a Pokeball, some bizarre dog-creature emerged, something from a generation after r/b/y so I had no idea what it was, but Chris knew, and as that dog-thing filled the arena with flames, and his Mewtwo was instantly knocked off the top of the arena to his death, that was when Chris got mad.

His jaw unhinged, his head unzipped along the back of his skull, causing the top half of his head to fall limp, the back of his head impacting his back. With both his top and bottom teeth pointed up, his eyes now pointed behind him, a straight path from his bowels to his mouth and out was no open. "WHY ARE THERE ITEMS IN THIS GAME?!" he screamed, his tongue spasming as it stuck straight up, vertically into the air. It was a terrible, guttural noise that shook this jaded author to his core. Flames erupted from his esophagus, directly to the roof, hitting his ceiling and filling his room with hellfire. He looked like a hell-borne fountain, something Satan himself would keep in a demonic garden. His screams had lost all meaning, his voice was now a jagged whine, the sound of a two-stroke engine running 5000 rpm over the the red-line. "Chris, stop!" I shouted, over the magma tears, finger lasers, and flame spout, "Just use Mewtwo's reflect and send the items back at them!" Chris's wails reached a crescendo, at that. "THIS IS NOT WHAT I PAID FOR!" His eyes suddenly bulged out of his head, his stomach and face swelled until he was grotesquely fat and swollen, his body bloating up until he looked like he weighed 1000 pounds... he made a crude burp-fart sound, and finally exploded.

"Chris, if you're just going to sit here and be mad at video games, I'm going to go." Chris looked down, at the Switch, then at the TV, he had lost, but the match was over. "Sorry, Nintendo just does this to me, they don't know how to make online." Before I left, he said, "You know, I don't have any friends over often, how about a selfie for my Instagram before you go?" Chris sounded despondent, as he asked, so I was about to agree. But then I realized he intended to take the picture in front of his suggestive Nintendo poster, and I declined. "Sorry, Chris," I lied, "I need to keep my online presence low, remember I have that stalker."

"Oh, yeah that's right, I remember now." He said. "I'll see you later," I left and closed the door.
"If these strong builds are being abused in PvP, they will be dealt with by the DM team."
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