I shunted everyone who hadn't read the fanfic into an alternate reality and obliterated this one. It was the only way to be sure.
The next person is having the best day ever!
It depends on from whose perspective we're talking.
The next poster has rented a wedding chapel for next Friday.
Burns Mourge40k's copy of Katana: the Slashening of [redacted], pours the ashes into a coffee can, buries the coffee can into 1000 lbs. of quickcret, and dumps that into the Marianas trench.
The next poster, would you kindly disinfect me having touched Katana: the Slashening of [redacted]?
(ninja'd by the Fiend Fantastic)
In your face for trying to wed my weaker cousin to Beernog.
The next poster is competing on the obstacle course in the next episode of the show WipeOut.
My lack of pattern recognition and inability to swim is going to take me to the top! I'm sure of it!
The next poster has just had it with these darn kids today!
Stupid Medusa and her stupid snake hair! Being a bird bath/status sucks!
The next poster is in a equally terrible position.
I have to polish Kahnya's garden statue collection. There are things in that garden. Things we weren't meant to know.
The next poster died in the garden.
Yep... that was no fun, lemme tell yous.
The next poster has an objection.
Quite, you're sued and tried.
The next poster rejects golarion reality and substitutes their own.
Aroden isn't dead! He's just hiding!
The next poster just remembered something that they were trying to forget.
OH GODS NOOOOOO!!!!! I remember everything, all the terrible, dirty, disgusting, inhuman things that GoatToucher did to that poor pygmy goat. And he whistled and sang all the while, like a dark lord of show tunes in his ::shudder:: workroom.
The next poster wishes to run a bake sale to pay for my therapy.
Indeed. I offer a number of baked delights.
Don't ask for the recipes, though. They're secret.
The next poster tried one of my "cream" puffs.
And I spent a decade in the hospital as a result.
The next poster is planning a party.
A sexy party! Everybody's coming, and you can too! Such wonderful things to see and do and have done! You'l laugh! You'll scream! You'll cry and cry and cry!
The next poster is the guest of honor!
Star of a thousand naughty daguerreotypes and now also available on hi-res wax cylinder, old prong!
The next poster intends to drive filthy Sin out of paizo.com, come what may.
Man, that Eggo tasted very good, sinfully good, we are LEGION!
The next poster knows how to exorcise my waffle demons.
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BEHOLD! *proudly presents GM_Beernorg's drained and desiccated, yet still very much alive and aware, remains, sticks a tube into his mouth, and pumps helium into his tissues until he begins floating into the air* AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAA!!!!!
On a lark, the next poster and I have swapped the contents of our kitchens!
Done and done.
I wouldn't open the refrigerator, If I were you. Those arcane seals are there for a reason.
The next poster will tell us what this thing on my inner thigh is, and identify the fluid bubbling out of it.
Certainly, that "tumor" is in fact a fetus in fetu, though why it is a nanny goat, damned if I know. Oh, and don't worry, the weeping fluid is just spoiled goat's milk, looks like your fetus in fetu is pregnant with a kid (baby goat). Contragulations, you a internal grandfather!
The next poster will kindly recommend what brand of brain bleach I should use to forget what I just saw, and said.
Sensual yet impudent, soothing, but at the same time, blazing like a beacon amongst the shadows of your mind, this piquant mixture of Codeine, Amaretto, Hydrochloric acid, Febreze, gravy and elk's tears will make all your problems float away like cucumbers down a waterslide.
The next poster would like to recommend a meal to accompany this libation.
Certainly. I would try (REDACTED), but then, I have a singular palate.
The next poster will use that comb to de-tangle Pulg's nether-portions.
Sure, just let me go get the laser powered titanium toothed comb I use for such serious work. Now, hold still Pulg, if you move, likely this laser comb will maim you most unpleasantly.
The next poster went to beauty school and will critique my work on Pulg.
No, no, no! You were supposed to use the plasma comb! You use the laser comb to detangle sentient hairpieces! You fail!
The next poster has two tickets to paradise.
Pack your bags, Ventnor. We leave tonight.
Two weeks later, the next poster will find Ventnor, naked by the side of the road a mile away from the airport, rocking back and forth and softly singing nursery rhymes.
Quite, Ventnor found an abandoned baby.
The only way to calm the baby, though, was to emulate 'a feeding point'. Though no milk produced from the chest, Ventnor seems a natural in caring for babies.
The next poster is also good with babies.
What the hell Skiron, electrolytes are not what plants crave, I give this new formula a 1 on the 1 thru 10 scale, also, it tastes like salt, which is what electrolytes are.
The next poster was chained to a big rock, tell us why.
Poog prove Poog big bad goblin.
Next pozter haz applied for job of elf in Chris Cringle's workshop.
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Well, it's not my most glorious moment, but I do need somewhere to hide for a while, and I've certainly been forced to wear worse uniforms, and...hmm...you say he can enter billions of houses in the span of one night, and he leaves...gifts behind??? Oh-ho, my DEAR Mr. Cringle, it would be an HONOR to be part of your endeavor!!! I'll make for you to give the likes of which the world's children have never dreamed!!! Christmas shall never be the same again, AAAAAAAAAH-HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHA-oh. What? Oh, yes, show me to the workshop! I cant WAIT...!!!
The next poster has already received one of my creations!
It's pretty okay. The fire arms were probably unnecessary, but having 7 eyes is pretty cool.
The next poster isn't going to post to the forum anymore.
Indeed not, nor have I ever. My bodyservant, Jambi, takes dictation.
The next poster will ladle chocolate sauce over me while Jambi is busy typing.
Oh yes. It's piping hot too, which should be very hygienic!
The next poster can foresee a side effect of boiling chocolate sauce.
GoatToucher is now very afraid of Sissyl, for reasons.
The next poster is on a roll in the local casino.
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A firm grasp of mathematics opens many doors - a firm grasp of mathemagic, and the luck of my infernal ancestors, all the more so! I really should do this more often...or at least until I am no longer permitted on the floor, ha-ha!
The next poster went on a vision quest to discover their spirit guide...who turned out to be one of the other personages on here. They will tell us who, and what their first instructions to them were.
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My spirit guide is Sissyl, and she says 'Stop reading Gor books. They're bad for you'
The next poster has been prepared for Wench Sport.
You better friggin believe I am prepared for Wench Sport, anytime, anywhere, never leave a wench on her feet I say, as their natural location is on their...you can guess the rest.
The next poster, please convince Pulg he should resume the reading of John Norman's works of Gor, for the holiday season according to American big business is all about hedonism, thus Gor isn't really bad for you, per say.
(took me many years to amass the full Gor series, ohh the looks bog store owners give, LOL)
Indeed. It is better to be like GM_Beernorg and share his devotion to building a complete Gor collection, than to be anywhere close to GoatToucher. Even fried by hot chocolate sauce.
The next poster will testify why reading Gor has been harmful to him/her.
MY EYES!!! MY EEEEEEEYEEEEEEESSS!!!
The next poster knows where I can go to get a new pair of eyes after my previous pair ceased to function for reasons I would rather not go into.
Yep, GoatToucher has a whole bunch of eye balls just floating in jars around his work room, if you bring him a nice new goat for his harem, I bet he will give you a pair of eyes in trade.
The next poster once flew on a giant eagle, tell us how that went.
It was okay. Too many Lord of the Rings fans yelling at me to go pick up Frodo.
The next poster is a giant eagle.
I'm actually called Gwahir the Windlord for a different reason, which may or may not be connected to my baked beans and kimche only diet.
The next poster has the job of curing the Nazgul's PSTD.
I am sure my on-line degree in psychology should do the trick. Ok, now, Mr. Nazgul, when did your first start to have symptoms of PTSD? Ok, right after your cousin GrarrROAR has his head severed by Aowin. Ok, that makes sense, that would be very traumatizing. I am going to teach your some breathing techniques, and I want you to repeat this mantra anytime your PTSD flares up. "The war is over, Aowin is not coming to get me, the war is over, Aowin is not coming to get me." Also, here is a prescription for 10,000 mg's of a generic anti-depressant, have an orc put it in with your screaming live Gondorian peasant meal twice a day. I am going to have you schedule a follow-up visit for a month from now.
The next poster, please follow-up with our distraught nazgul SnarlBite, and see how he is doing after my consultation.
(thanks Pulg, took like 8 years and many disapproving looks to put that series together, LOL)
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He's not doing very well at all. Apparently you convinced him that Aowin was't coming for him, so when she came for him it was a complete surprise. Those drugs you gave him slowed his reflexes due to an allergic reaction, and he appears to be missing his head now.
The next poster is going to make Snarlbite's injuries all better.