Gather around all you sneaky bitches and fomo bag holders and let me tell you about some shit I'll call the "FOMO wheel of delight" AKA the "how to kinda profit buying the top or at least not get fucked" strategy.
I'm talking to you if you fd'd or yolo'd your weed money into weed stocks today, and no i don't care they're still going up, because they've been going up since mid jan and now they're getting memey and all overbought (time to find the door). I saw so many people today saying "oh crap i fomo'd all over myself and bought today." Hush yo mouth now and listen. This entire strategy is not guaranteed to make you money, but it should make your bags a bit lighter or even let you get out of a dumbass play (eventually), so don't come back to me whining about your heavy bags because I make no guarantees -- if you want a better more practical play this strategy is based off the more conservative wheel aka triple three-way or whatever strategy as defined here but this one is squished down, deformed and mutilated to fit your fomo fd desires, well at least the weekly part.
Here's how it works. First, go read that post. Now, once you've done that and actually understand the big words in there, and how you're actually supposed to do it, heres how you mutilate that strategy in such a way that in the best case scenario you get 10-30% (or more in some cases) on your fomo plays and reduce your downside risk by the same amount.
I'm gonna ignore the greeks in this little fireside chat because I betcha my audience don't know a damn thing about them or think they know more about them than they actually do (if you can calculate black-scholes in your head just stop reading now - if you can, why are you fomo'ing bro?)
Anyways... here we go:

• Step 1: Recognize your FOMO. The first step is admitting it. It feels like, "Shit this shit is really doing some green dildo shit, maybe i should buy that shit now, even though everyone's been talking about it for days/weeks/whatever... fuck it, ok, here i go... oh crap did i just buy the top?" (yep, you did) - next time it happens try this instead. I know we all like loss porn, but I already see enough dumbass yolos to have my fill but fomo bag holding feels bad for everyone (unless you're yolo'ing fd's then I still like it).
  
• Step 2: Read the crayon drawings. Take a look at the angle of that big green dildo (or big red dildo if you think about how this works hard enough i'll leave that as an exercise to you the reader) - if its pointed up like a boner securely tucked into the belt of your pants, this strategy will probably fuck you, but go ahead and look at the option chain - if you know your maths try to figure out the best fit mean line to determine what you expect the greed spike to fall back to and look in those areas of the option chain (but i've not seen a worthwhile play there yet, unless you're playing monthly's at that point)
  
• Step 3: Sell a cash secured put. Look at the put option chain and make a decision: do you think its still gonna keep going up with a solid thrust? Pick an itm weekly (or 2/3 weeks away if you got the balls - the deeper or longer the itm the bigger the balls) with good premium to sell, 25%+ minimum premiums or more for this one (if its gonna hurt more if you're wrong you might as well get paid for it) - keep in mind the break even value for later, thats your initial cost basis (aka what your silly ass better not sell the stock below later), and dictates how you're gonna recover later. Do you think you're near the top but think the run will continue for the week? Sell ATM weekly puts for at least 15%+ premium, maybe slightly less but less than 10% though is definitely not worth it imo. Think you missed the train and you know you are actually at the top? sell otm weekly puts just above worthless - should get 5-7% premiums here.
  
• Step 4: Patience. That's right, at least this time you wont be babysitting your weekly call option as often as you jerk off, since this time you will be actually holding some kind of equity in the end no matter what, so now you have more time to jerk off. Congratulations, you've taken the first actual action of this shitty fomo wheel strategy.
  
• Step 5: Expiration. Expire worthless? good, now you made cash money and can feel "accomplished" in your fomo play and walk away with decent fomo gains (unless you were a greedy ass). Still going up but made some cash? Rinse and repeat with as much pain/pleasure tolerance you got. Expire in the money and got assigned? proceed to next step, at least these bags you're holding don't have holes in the bottom like the dumbass calls you usually buy.
  
• Step 6. Lower your cost basis and gtfo or profit. Since your dumbass is now holding bags, lets get some interest until you can get out or profit. Sell covered calls for a strike price no less than your cost basis, or at least have the premium cover the cost basis you are discounting off the strike price. If you are super OTM then you definitely fucked this up, because the idea is not to be so far OTM that you can't turn around and sell a covered call (thats why you want those sweet sweet high premiums) ... but if you are, I guess you are stuck selling fd's for a while. Either way, the idea is, every time you sell a cc you get another premium that lowers your cost basis, so essentially you can rinse/repeat to chase the leg down until you at least break even. There's more strategies here, but this is the basics.
  

TL;DR:

• Sell cash secured puts into fomo instead of calls dumbass (they're both bull bets) - you're not gonna get a 10 bagger this way but you fomo'd bro so suck it up
  
• If you don't fuck up - free money - rinse, repeat until it hurts i guess.
  
• If you do fuck up, now you can sell covered calls until you get back to even via premiums, or god forbid come back for a profit
  
• you're welcome you sneaky bitches and fomo derps
  
• P.S. I made those premium percentages up but they are close to what i do, make your own percentages up and think for yourself.
  

Alright folks, buckle up and Charge your batteries. This play's going to smack you all the way back to 1999.
First, a recap. WSB has proven to the world that retail matters. With the power of the hive mind, leveraged options trading, and distinctly fragile market conditions, we've refueled a few businesses that were written off by the street. And we made some money doing it. To no one's surprise, the gaslighting boomers called us manic, irrational, and stupid. They hired CNBC to dismiss us, politicize us, patronize us, or accuse us of cheating. They told us to go back to watching Netflix and let the big boys steer the ship.
Fact is, we all know the GME play was no smooth brained fluke. The strategy formed organically, built on a masterly combination of market technicals, narrative, underlying facts, and community research. A few timely events, and we took off to the stratosphere.
Now it's time to let them know that we can also bring things back down to earth. It's time to prove that us lovely commoners are grounded, sophisticated analysts--or at least, we're fast learning newbs. We are measured in judgement, clear in action, helpful to our communities. And we're having some fun. Retail is not a stupid mob, we are a collective social intelligence.
So there's my heartfelt intro, now onto the play.
Two words, and you're not going to like it:Short. Tesla.
I'll give you a minute.
If you just bought $TSLA and think all stonks only go up, you can skip to the comments, turn caps lock ON, and go nuts. Stonks to infinity means hyperinflation. You're a millionaire, and a burger costs 12k. No thanks. So here's the breakdown.
Table of Contents. (That's right.)

1. The Gravity. Hive Mind is Uploaded: Retail Options Control the Delta Hedge.
2. The Mass. All Roads lead to Mars...and Back. Passive Inclusion of $TSLA, the "God Meme".
3. The Playing Field.
4. The Trade.
5. The Risks.
6. The Endgame. Power to the Players.

Let's goo.

I. The Gravity. The Hive Mind is Uploaded. Retail Options Control the Delta Hedge.

Let's start with what we know. We're all poor and the Hedge Fund managers are rich. If you add together all retail investors, our funds would barely tick on the balance sheet of your local BlackRock. There's a reason they're called the 1%.
So what gives? How can a few Reddit analysts and their YOLO followers trigger cascading rallies across multiple tickers, even moving the very SPY itself?
​
GME vs SPY, during the Deep Fuckin Squeeze
To grasp the answer, you need to understand one thing about Delta-Hedging. Delta Hedging is what Market Makers do to stay 'risk neutral' while buying or selling options.
It works like this: When a Market Maker sells you a Call option, they also buy more Shares as hedge. That way, if the call ends up being right, they already have the Shares to sell you, and they've made a little profit on the price increase. If they didn't do the Delta Hedge, the Market Maker would have to go out and buy those shares above the Strike Price, then sell them to you at a loss.
There's more to it, but thats all you need to know here.
We saw these dynamics at play with GME. You probably heard the terms Delta Squeeze, Gamma Squeeze, Short Squeeze, etc.
As you recall, the squeeze happened because lots of people started going long GME. The more people went long, the more shares Mr. Market Maker had to buy, which sent the price higher and higher, tempting more and more people to buy in and go long. It's a feedback loop, sparked by a few retail traders at the bottom of the food chain.
As Alex Harfouche, former head of Goldman Sachs' European block trading, keenly points out:

"Basic maths can demonstrate that the massive price moves are not ONLY a function of Reddit retail crowd YOLOing calls turning MMs into delta-hedging chasers. 15% to 20% of daily traded calls become OI (they are day traded) hence have no effect on dynamic delta-hedging. This leaves one explanation to the parabolic moves: when Reddit starts concentrating call buying volumes on some names, some keen observers are using this as a signal and fueling the moves." https://twitter.com/alexharfouche1/status/1355177706292465664

The $TSLA Delta Squeeze has been more prolonged, and MUCH more YUGE, but it follows the same mechanics. The more speculative calls, the more shares Market Makers have to buy up. Price goes up, speculation increases. It's a feedback loop, with little retail at the bottom, deciding everything.
That's the Gravity. Now onto the Mass.

II. The Mass. All Roads lead to Mars...and Back. Passive Inclusion of $TSLA, the "God Meme".

The second turbocharger that sent $TSLA soaring is pure courtesy of boomer mismanagement. They're called passive index funds, like the beloved SP&500. If you're not familiar, these funds track the 'biggest companies' and continuously rebalance their portfolios to hold an weighted distribution of shares.
Once the Delta-Squeeze hit the magic number, $TSLA was signed up to be included in these Passive Funds. This resulted in a astronomical amount of forced buying. For example, the Vanguard S&P 500 index fund, the OG passive index-tracking investment fund, has assets of over $600B. To bring Tesla up to the required 1.6% of its portfolio, Vanguard has to buy about $10B worth of Tesla shares. Just because.
And Vanguard is just the tip of the iceberg. According to Barron’s, “between $5 trillion and $6 trillion are invested in funds indexed to the S&P 500.” Because of arcane indexing algorithms, these funds were forced to buy around 120 million shares of Tesla, worth $80-100B, and divest $80-100B of other holdings, to align their portfolios with the new index composition. That's a whole lot of Buy Pressure.
But that's not it. An additional estimated $6.7 trillion in Active Funds are really just blindly following the S&P500, in a dubious practice called "Closet Indexing". [1] Basically you pretend to be an Active Fund Manager, but just construct a portfolio based on the SP&500 and collect a big management fee. It's the copypaste-from-wikipedia homework of the hedge fund manager world. Def can't go tits up.
So that's the Mass.
It's a whole of lot of money blindly buying up a stock, sending it higher and higher, luring in more and more speculation, despite the fact that the present day business fundamentals absolutely do not correspond. At this point, the bull narrative for Tesla has been whittled down to full reliance on "distant futures" and the cult following of Elon Musk.
I'm not an astrophysicist, but with the Gravity of Retail Driven Delta-Hedge and the Mass of Passive Fund Inclusion, there's a chance that even a small shift in public opinion will trigger cascading downward prices, as the Market Makers reverse and the planetary mass of Passive Inclusion Funds (and all their copycats) desperately rebalance and sell off.
But what do I know, I just eat crayons.

III. The Playing Field.

You might ask yourself--Why would so many Money Managers rely on Passive Indexing, copypasta, or reddit sentiment to do their jobs? Simply put: Because they live on yachts, and think they're too special to interface with the real world. These people have no way of knowing what is actually going on in the lives of everyday people, what we like, what we need, and how we assign value.
Remember: the underlying isn't the Stock Price. The underlying is the business. The actual real world operations associated with the Ticker, how they affect people's lives, and how we the people feel about that. In 2021, Retail will teach everyone this lesson, and many will be butthurt.
​
Tech Cycle Rolls Over. Courtesy of Trader_ferg, read the tweet. https://twitter.com/trader_ferg/status/1359504988960026627
On a way zoomed out macro level, this all makes sense, and is squarely aligned with the Central Banks mandate to undertake new social & economic reform. Part of this reset is the technological reality that accessible Retail Options trading is a far more granular method of capturing sentiment and valuation. With share trading, all a User can do is "Buy" or "Sell". Not much info for the AI to feed off of. On the other hand, with options, a user can provide a nuanced input about their projected Value and Future Timing of the Business. It's like Photo vs. Video. 4D Chess. A lot more data. All it needs is to be wired together and get a few more big Pumps of The Juice--not to make 'all stonks go up forever', but simply to facilitate the transactional throughput of higher order computing.
This is good: A massive Hive Mind of independent rational agents, feeding the blossoming AI with rich realtime votes on the value and future prospects of a Company. The AI needs this. It does not need a handful of overpaid money-managers who have never peeled a banana to sit on their yachts and pick tickers out of hat, or sleep at the wheel while an intern copies the trades of a 40-year-old indexing algorithm. There's too much risk of mis-pricing the underlying, and too many inefficient middlemen. With our help, the Hive Mind can do it better and cheaper, and the Real Big Boys know that. As the old adage goes, together Apes Strong. 🦍🦍🦍
Data from Options trading is just the beginning. Soon enough, stakeholders from across the world will seamlessly participate in realtime corporate governance, valuation, and ownership of the companies that touch their lives. The World Economic Forum call this the Shareholder Economy.
But that's future talk. Q3 2022. Let's stick to the present situation.

IV. The Trade.

I'll keep this part simple. If you're holding $TSLA, start selling the top. What the actual fuck are shares, anyway. If you're new or looking for a YOLO, Puts on TSLA, all year long.
Exact timing? Sooner than you think, maybe Tuesday.Pick your own risk/reward. Don't get freaky behind Wendy's or pawn off your girlfriend's cat.
690 is not a meme. 420 is probably not a meme. 42 is a meme.
And If you believe in the resonant effects of Mass and Gravity: Puts on SPY down to 369. NASDAQ-100 Puts to 10420.
Paper handed bitches too emo to go short: Buy some Steel, limited edition Air Jordans, or a '99 Cherokee straight 6. Collectibles will print for the next decade.
And if you're here bc you really dgaf and just want to Send A Message, throw puts on all the bois that keep ruining society: FB, Google, Twitter, Amazon, etc. Get creative. Trust your gut. If they don't print, at least you die a hero.
Remember, we don't have money, but we're the ones in charge. It's a spiritual choice. Boom. And guess what else, Dennis? We're not "afraid of a market crash" any more than we're afraid of getting shot at in Fortnite. A game's a game. We're already poor, unemployed, stuck at home in your dysfunctional system, eating shitty cold food from DoorDash. (Another excellent short, btw.)
But Wall Street did teach us one thing: you don't need to lose money, as long as you're on the right side of the trade. We see you. And we're capable of sitting back, crackin' a cold one, and surfing this wave all the way down the mountain. We are rising to the occasion, and putting ourselves on the right side of the trade.
If that was all too complicated, just call it the Reverse Moon. All Stonks go up, therefore All stonks go down. Now it's time for Stonks Go Down, so hop on board and don't worry. This Truck is Fully Powered By Gravity--the cleanest energy--the code is live in the matrix, uploading to your braincells as we speak. 100% self-driving, always have been. Turn off the iPhone and go hug your Mom. In the 5th Dimension, we're already Trillionaires.

V. The Risks

Timing. As far as I can tell, the biggest risk here is timing and scale. The TSLA fundamentals check out: bona fide crap. Price is the only thing that made it to Mars. Market conditions are primed for a steep reversal, It might have even started last week. Product quality is weak, but I can't confirm since I've only seen their cars on Youtube. Big Boys like Ford are coming to bat. Tech multiple is a ponzi.
But we still have no way of knowing how long elevated prices in the sector can last. Usually these things are drawn out like a drugged out bender, until they roll over and quickly collapse. Unfortunately, there are alot of rich fallguys like Chamath and Cathie Wood trying to distract you with Shiny Objects while they show their even richer Masters to the door.
I say fuck it, let's pre-empt, call out the bullshit and get our asses on the right side of this trade before it's too late. I don't want to be the last guy at the party strung out on the couch. I bet you don't either.
But what about the other failed shorts? Yep, lots of hedge fund managers have bled themselves dry trying to go short $TSLA. They neglected to realize the importance of The Vibe, and were generally short TSLA because they didn't believe in the core business or EVs or rocketships or some other arcane boomer technical thing. This time its different. Retail has already cashed the $TSLA stimmy check. Twitter is pwned. We see the smart money moving away, and can call it like we see it. We have learned how the market works, and we've adapted. $GME might not have made us all rich with money, but it made some of us just rich enough to spark confidence in the rest. We can spot the right moves, call them out, and participate in our financial system and economy. Who woulda thought.
But what about More Fed Stimmy? Silly boomer, Fed Stimmy was never about shifting to a paradigm where all stonks go up. It was about a macro return to shareholder economics, an embrace of price volatility, and the necessary technical upgrades to facilitate Big Data sentiment capture from the retail Hive Mind. Didn't you read Larry Fink's 2021 Letter to CEOs? Central Banks have played these games before, Take a look at Japan, or read about the Carry. Weird shit happens. But guess what, Bankers? In reality, you're the subs. I said it before, this is the 5th Dimension. We're gucci; you work for us. Enjoy the yacht and stay out of our treehouse. We don't have all your money, but we have our communities, our friends, our families, and our glorious lossporn. Freedoms so wild you literally could never imagine. Maybe that's why you locked us down, so our lives would suck as much as yours. Put that in your pipe and smoke it.
But what about The Future? Get those crayons out of your mouth. Human civilization is not one pre-order deposit away from a Techno-Paradise-Utopia. The Tesla Roadster took $250k deposits 3 years ago and has still delivered nothing. With $250k in 2018, you could've bought 50BTC and sold 'em to Musk for $2.3M last week. You got played, 'Frisco. Sorry not sorry.
The market is about main street, schools, small businesses, food, and homes. Root canals and babysitters. It's about real fucking people, none of whom will ever be rich enough to upload our brains to a network of satellites floating around Mars. Most of us, even the ones who made money with your dumb 2020 stonks, have had a pretty rough year. The future is wonderful, but there's also this little thing called the Present. And it's proving to be of vital importance.
But what about Internet Fame? No one can sustain infinite economic growth by going on Joe Rogan Podcast or shooting off cryptic 3 word tweets. Most of the engagement on elonmusk twitter is spam. The rest is Cringe. Go Check. On top of that, we all know that Twitter is compromised, that Mark Zuckerberg still has no real friends, and that web2 ad-tech social media is a garbage business model that ends up building worthless propaganda machines and echo chambers. I'd rather chill w my cat and horde Uranium. Whoops.
Unexpected Interventions? As we know, the Powers At Be have a lot of levers to pull. Tesla has been propped up by sweetheart government deals and tax credits. In fact that's the only reason they make any money to begin with. Go read about it.
So there's that: the government might do anything. There might be a new crisis and the gov might forces us to close all our bank accounts, wear chicken costumes, and dance in circles. Government intervention is a wild card. But weirdly enough, I think the Big Banks are on our side, ish. They def need to pwn all our trading data, harness our collective brainpower to go full AI, then cut out the previous generation of complacent middle-market fund managers. So who knows. This is all speculation. I don't work for the CIA. We do know that Michael Burry is short. And sequels sell.
China? Had to throw it in there, bc Biden might be pwned by the CCP and we might already be living in a Chinese colony. If that's true, I got no problem. China is cool, I love China, great culture, great people, the food, all of it. And they'll probably fix our roads! Xie xie! :D
But with respect to $TSLA price action and The Trade, the China Factor could work for or against us. I have no idea what China wants from me. Pelosi did buy some $TSLA Leaps, but that might've been a PsyOp. She's got hella deepfake vibes. Again, No idea. Consult your tea leaves.
But who's going to lose? Who will be the bagholders? As you've probably learned, every trade has a winner and loser. Such is life. There will always be bagholders. All I can say is that this time around, it doesn't need to be us.
If it all plays out according to my Tarot Cards, the Bankers will do what they've done best for centuries, and losses will be socialized across all the boomers with $ in passive index funds. People thought it was safe, but neglected to realize that the lazy overpaid fund managers didn't update their models since 1985. Instead, they let a hyped up trojan horse distort their portfolios and stretch the connection between SPY and the Real World, while in the background a tech-enabled Options market became the new Hive Mind of retail sentiment.
The Bagholders will be everyone who was comfortable and complacent enough to actually believe that if you dump all your assets in a passive index fund then durpa durp all stonks go up.Newsflash: It was a meme. We were kidding.
​
Now don't get me wrong: Elon Musk is still weird and cool and none of this is a knock on him at all. He is undoubtedly a genius, and probably embraced these ideas years ago. He's told us many times: the future is re-usable rocketships. Up and Down. Up and Down. Volatility. In the long term, Tesla will succeed and fulfill its mission, and the influence of Musk and his companies will go down in history.
But Markets are markets. Trader_ferg says it best:

Multiple contraction overrides perfect mgmt execution. Your views can prove correct, Yet you get killed. Take Cisco in 2000. If you'd invested based on it: -Becoming a mainstay of the internet -Growing revenue strongly for next decade
You'd have been right. Yet still lost >80%.

Remember. Do not get emotional here, this is fundamental trading. Puts on $TSLA won't hurt baby X Æ A-XII. I know you might be a fanboy. It's ok, we forgive you.
The move is technical, and the point is simple: infinite money isn't a thing. All stonks go down. The markets are fragile; Retail Option Traders are in charge. $TSLA is overbought by a delta squeeze & huge passive fund inclusion. And at this precise moment we're rolling, Because we control the narrative.

VI. Endgame. Power to the Players.

So where does this all lead us? What happens to a world where the market is truly just a video game, fed by a mass of independent individuals riding a play up or down, talking strategy, making friends, and having fun? What happens is simple: markets function better, society is improved, and there is Way More Chill™. One day the social hive mind will cut out the Chamaths and Dorseys of the world and autonomously perform market functions: valuing companies and steering corporate governance in a realtime, decentralized, transparent way. There will still be Shadow Kings, but we might stop stressing about Booms and Busts, horribly opaque corporate governance, and endless media-Induced panics. We just want to play. The system might be smart, but we can always move first.
Anyway, started trading last week, so take this with a spoon of salt. Def not financial advice, but if you've read this far, you know that. Full Disclosure: I drive an '87 Chevy 4x4 and it rips. Only simps buy a Tesla.
​
Sincerely yours,
-0xpectation.
​
what up

Appendix. Notes, Edits, and Responses:

I wrote a post last week about MF DOOM. I'm not going to reference that much here but if you wanted to catch up feel free: https://www.reddit.com/conspiracy/comments/lbfhtmf_doom/
This isn't much of a conspiracy post but there isn't many places online that I can truly express my thoughts and feelings with like minded enough people. This particular sub is a little strange but last week I thought, what the heck, there's at least a few people that would listen and maybe join in on the discussion. I was surprised that not only did my post get upvoted, I saw a lot of different kinds of discussion happening. There was a few references people had made that interested me, so I journeyed through those references in the following days. What happened next I wasn't really expecting.
Someone had mentioned in the comments that the interview mentioned in the song I had highlighted was an Alex Collier interview from 1995:
https://youtu.be/pM9GPFwWgnA
That particular evening I was in a rut. One of those ruts you feel inside your DNA. The kind of rut that your subconscious, or higher self knows how to move through but you're just sitting there; Stuck in your conscious meat suit slowly decaying and you can't really do anything about it. I watched the video. A lot of what Alex Collier had said spoke to me. He also affirmed a lot of internal research I was doing, which was a nice feeling for a change. I was browsing /pol/ just to see what was happening and had a very higher ground feeling to make a post, so I did. What started out slow turned into probably one of the nicest experiences I've ever had online (been online since 97'). It almost felt eerily coordinated. Every feeling I had, along side the knowledge that I was seeking, arrived in a giant flurry in one of 4chans most disruptive boards. Here's the link if you're interested:
https://archive.4plebs.org/pol/thread/307119240/#307136699
I've been learning in the past 7 days, when you shine your own light, people feel safe to come out too, regardless of where you are. I did that for DOOM, I did that on /pol/ and I'm doing it again. I think this board is the closest to matching my vibration, even though this particular post wouldn't really belong in any kind of filing index (Think old school library drawer indexes). I personally find /conspiracy to be quite boring actually, as the theories lately are all click bait with very little due diligence... I digress.
I found navigating through my inner storm and feeling the need to express my inner connection, it guided me down a wonderful, dare I say, life altering path. I'm digging it so far and will continue to learn and move forward with it.
Okay. Back to DOOM.
As I move forward as consciousness having a human experience, I find MF DOOM always has lyrics there for me when I've leveled up, so to speak. There are very few artists I've been influenced by where I feel like I am a student. When I listen to DOOM, I feel the need to learn his songs word for word because whether I know it or not consciously, I know he's waiting for me (Actually had a dream about him and he was talking to me... I already know it's strange). I feel like DOOM laid out many keys, that will help me as an entity and I am honored to learn... Again, I digress.
I wanted to lay out some of these keys for 'us' and maybe we can chat about them, if you're up for it. I've had such an incredible time learning from all of you, like DOOM, I was hoping maybe if I kick off some lyrics, we could make something out of it. So, without further ado, here are a handful of songs / lyrics that I feel are relevant to start off a discussion. Maybe some of you could help me with my studies, breaking some of this stuff down.
​
Gazillion Ear: Assorted Lyrics
​
https://youtu.be/uPcF_xUF7mc
Grillin' stare, yeah ya boy had drama
Got em on a mental plane, avoided bad karma
Once sold a inbred skinhead a nigga joke
Plus a brand new chrome smokin' with the triggers broke
I thought I told em firing pins was separate
He find out later when he tries to go an rep it
Took a Jehovah money for a Arabic Torah
Charged in advance, translate it and ignored it sorta
One monkey don't stop no slaughta
Sick slick, hid in a book
The only way they find it if it's spittin in a hook
Listen, don't look now, keep walkin'
Traded three beans for this cow, cheap talkin'
Hawk men, stalkin', hit a weed, hawkin' often
Cough into a coffin, might as well scoff the pork then
He's like Wharf, some say stronger though
Off the top J strong bow, play along bro
Wear a mask like yo off the Gong Show
Flow slow as Mongo, Don Juan thong pro
For ya info when he's not practicin' Jim Crow
A actress and some nympho bimbo
Half cocked and half baked
Used to keep a full stock of work half rocked and half shaked
My mistake, silent track agreement
For more G's than lines and cracks in the cement
In any event it's fake like wrestlin'
Get em like Keak da Sneak on mescaline
Ahem, elixir for the dry throat
Tried to hit the high note. Villain's just a itsy bitsy zygote
By remote, send in the meat wagon
Braggin' MC's packed in with they feets draggin'
Villain, his agenda is clear
Endin' this year with dividends to spare, here
It's not meant for the scene
Went through the celin' after enterin' his center bein'
A new meanin' to sales through the roof
Guaranteed raw and saw his truth is truth, proof
We need some more oil for the machines to burn, learn
Jiminy crickets, he gets lucky like winnin' free tickets off simply lyrics
One mans waste is another mans soap
Sons fan base, know the brotha man's dope
A real weirdo, with a bug rear flow
And the way his hair grow was ugly as a scarecrow
He wears a mask so the charge won't grab
On a rooftop with a large stone slab
Heads up, talk white and thought niggerous
Refuse to walk tight and got his off the figure'ish
How he handle the money was strictly Dan Stucky
Monkey hustle, man on fire
Later for the date than the hadron collider
And cost more, if it's seemin' like a style
DOOM leave the competition steamin' like a pile
Smile, ding!
Sparkling jewels, in effect like alternate side of the street parkin' rules
Fools, the roach is never dead
Live for a week, then dehydrate with a severed head. Instead..It was depicted as Flik did
Split, the wick's lit
​
​
Great Things:
https://youtu.be/Ck1VM0DbPvo
Just put your mind to it, you'll go mad far
Like the plasma in reactors when you're headed to the stars
Let it be tomorrow, it starts on the inside
Use intuition and conscience as a guide, glide
Choose a target, however immaculate
Focus till it manifest pin-point accurate
That's a sure bet, and Villain's no gambler
Freeze frame a thought like it's caught on camera
Advice is free of charge, just pay attention
A donation as they say in this dimension
A game-winning strategy: support your favorite charity
Playing with polarity could drain a whole battery
Beware of apathy and procrastination
And put the plan in full effect for instant activation
Just a few jewels that's hidden in plain sight
Ain't nothing else to it but to do it, but do it rightAight?
​
​
Cellz Pt.1 Feat Charles Bukowski
https://youtu.be/QbP_p_hHrtU
Born like this, into this
As the chalk faces smile, as Mrs. Death laughs
As political landscapes dissolve
As the oily fish spit out their oily prey
We are born like this, into this
Into hospitals which are so expensive that it's cheaper to die
Into lawyers who charged so much, it's cheaper to plead guilty
Into a country where the jails are full and the madhouses closed
Into a place where the masses elevate fools into rich heroes
Born into this, walking and living through this
Dying because of this
Castrated, debauched, disinherited, because of this
The fingers reach toward an unresponsive God
The fingers reach for the bottle, the pill, the powderWe are born into this sorrowful deadliness
There will be open and unpunished murder in the streets
It will be guns and roving mobs, land will be useless
Food will become a diminishing return
Nuclear power will be taken over by the many
Explosions will continually shape the earth
Radiated men will eat the flesh of radiated men
The rotting bodies of men and animals stink in the dark wind
And there will be the most beautiful silence never heard
Born out of that, the sun hidden thereAwaiting the next chapter...
​
​
Cellz Pt.2:
https://youtu.be/M4LJOXqLK1o
DOOM from the realm of Al-Qayyum. Smelly gel fume
Separating cell womb to Mele Mel, boom!
Revelations in braille, respiration, inhaleView nations fail, shaking of a snake tail
Make due, blazing swords, traze the haze, praise the Lord
Saving grace. Lace your broad, she say she bored
A crazy straw, ink and stale-dried paraffin
Candy corn crap rappers pale by comparison
Chiefin beefin' bein' off deep ends, divine bright shines even
Dimes quiet as minds by design, mighty fine
Slight rewind, tightly bind, blind lead blind
Need minds now, that was this is then
Listenin' to sizzlin' officialtons whisperin' him again
Major vets spaded through the vest with a bayonet
Save your breath, gave a F, pay your debt, they forget
Make 'em sweat bullets, crime pays no benefits
Then it gets wilder with more childish degenerates
Yodel at your uncle flows, my motorcycle trunk fullsfrom 2, 1 to 1, loose crumbs to chunks in bundles
Hands down, better than what your mans used to get
Standin' around for where the translucent lucid spit
Missin wheel, you don't listen, you a feel head
Sittin' in the kitchen, pissin', twitchin', kissin' steel lead
Crime pays no dental nor medical
Unless you catch retirement, county, state or federal
Ya heard like roaring waters in a seashell
If a tree fell, ya couldn't tell from 3 cell
Be real careful, they tellin' by the earful
Kids doin' skid bids, acting out is terrible
​
​
Strange Ways:
https://youtu.be/T_3wjvGiWTU
Wreak havoc, beep beep it's mad traffic
Sleek and lavish people speaking leaking to the maverick
He see as just another felony drug arrest
Any day could be the one he pick the wrong thug to test
Slug through the vest... Shot in the street
For pulling heat on a father whose baby's gotta eat
And when they get hungry, it ain't shit funny
Paid to interfere with how a brother get his money
Now, who's the real thugs, killers and gangsters?
Set the revolution, let the things bust and thank us
When the smoke clear, you can see the sky again
There will be the chopped off heads of Leviathan
They pray four times a day, they pray five
Who ways is strange when it's time to survive
Some will go of they own free will to die
Others take them with you when they blow sky high
What's the difference? All you get is lost children
While the bosses sit up behind the desks
It cost billions to blast humans in half, into calves and arms
Only one side is allowed to have bombs
It's like making a soldier drop his weapon
Shooting him, and telling him to get to stepping
Obviously, they came to portion up his fortune
Sounds to me like that old robbery/extortion
​
​
"GMO"
https://youtu.be/tV1sRLYksNM
here they go, feminizing men again
Then pretend they don't know when we know it, xenoestrogen
Exorcise the jinnKeynote lecture with a spin
Meant to get c-notes from end to end
Whoever use canola oil ya soul'll boil
For a longer time than it take a diet cola to spoil
Uh, I get what you're sellin'Swellin' from alien microfilaments, it's Morgellons
Even if you're gellin'
What's that in your melon? And what the hell is they sprayin'? No tellin'
Barium strontium, aluminumWell drink responsibly, get the truth from DOOM and 'em
Can't trust the tap water much less the kettle
Double entendre to the phrase test your mettle
The rest'll settle, just to get fed well
As the livin' dead infect the red cell
Don't drink the milk, it's spoiled
The blood and stuff in it make it stink, that's why it's boiled
Snake oil sales from doorbell doctors who slip Mickey's
And trick you to strip to get jipped quickly
Kick me, you know it's gettin' worse
No help bein' upset, ya startin' to curse first
Better off with a good sense of humor
Research to know what's the truth instead of rumor
Ya partner DOOM is who'll rideOr either do or die like farmer suicide, chew your pride
Might as well start 'em out in pro boxin'
Than force-feedin' them toddler food laced with excitotoxins
They did it like the funky worm
Enough to make a junkie squirm, mice making monkey sperm
Or rice infused with diarrhea drugsWonder why it's here, well shrug, hells yeah it's bugged
And it gets bugged'er by the minute
Question: will the frankenfoods kill us?
Or turn us into thangs off Thriller, or dang gorillas?
Breeds of a needless variety
In the name of greed we get a seedless society
Flounder genes in your tomatoes
Cod in your potatoes, playin' God, retarded'er than Play-Doh
And as the juice gets sweeter
No use in bein' cute if you's a useless eater
Make it hard to keep your mattress clean
That was mean, little froggies with sex changes from atrazine
And aspartame in gum, Splenda is plenty fun
Left many strung, agenda 21Or have your third eye cry or your side blown
Well right on, forgot to sign the guide stone
Yours truly all caps DOOMSue him if you’re gloomy, or boo'em to your tomb
Slicko, it's like robitussin but toxic
She take it to feel better, but there's more to the concoction
She'll peep it
Got a lot, can you keep it?
Got these keys to the cuffs
To unlock all these secrets
Yes I'm professin', yes teachin'
With the villain, strategic
Got these apples and peaches
The size of Kelly and Regis
You won't believe till you see it
And with them come these allergies
Underage with doubles DsAw, man, ya killing me
Literally
​
There are more lyrics that I love but I feel they would be out of step for this sub, I fear any more and I would be exiled to /mfdoom.

I still don’t know why I did what I did to Michael. I’ve thought it over every way I can, turning the memory upside down and inside out until it felt like I was going insane. At the time a part of me thought it was just a bit of fun. I meant no harm. I was nineteen and hanging around outside of school waiting for my girlfriend to get out when I spotted the guy in the parking lot. He must have been there to pick up his younger sister. Like a lot of us, he wasn’t able to make it to university, or even just get a job in the city, so he was stuck at home like the rest of us. But growing up he’d been a real pain in the ass, a special kind of dweeb born out of insecurity and petty jealousy. He hated everyone. He hated the smart kids most of all, but that didn’t stop him from saving some choice words for the rest of us. All of us kids were just trying to have a good time. Smoke a little dope, get a little drunk, feel each other up… Michael would rock up to our usual haunts with the police in tow and then act high-and-mighty about it the next day.
He had thrived in a controlled schoolyard environment. But on that day, looking at him sat in his car, it dawned on me we weren’t in a schoolyard anymore. It was the real world. And in the real world there are consequences for your actions. Acting like an asshole, pissing people off… well it’s liable to get you a slap around the head. I could see him eyeing me when he thought I wasn’t looking. I knew what he was thinking as I sat there smoking. Had I turned out to be everything he hoped? Some loser with no future and no ambition? It made me angry to think of him judging me when he’d turned out no better. His sly little glances only got worse when Dave and Andy wandered past and I called them over for a chat.
He must’ve known we were laughing at him. He must’ve heard us chant his old nickname and clutch our stomachs in faux-laughter. We were doing it for his pleasure. I could see him squirm. It wasn’t meant to go further than that. I just wanted to give him something to think about. I knew he’d spend that night tossing and turning, as furious at us as were at him. But then Andy started throwing beer bottles and I should have stopped him. It was a silly thing to do. Too loud. Too angry. Too stupid. But before I’d even thought of what to say to Andy, Michael was up and out of his car and filming us with his phone.
“Please leave the premises!” he cried, his voice a little shaky. “This is a place for learning! Not for drunken yobs to pick up underage girls.”
We shouted our own replies, about his sister, his mother… Michael called us losers. We called him pathetic. If we’d left it at that, maybe it would have been fine. But it went on until Michael cried something a little too close to home.
“I hope your dads are fuckin’ proud!”
Those words hit a sensitive spot for Dave. Before I had time to think of what any of it might mean to him, the young mechanic was already charging forward. I figured he’d just hit Michael, but he slapped the boy hard around the back of his head, hard enough to daze, and then hoisted the little Michael up into the air with ease. Andy ran over and grabbed the boy’s ankles to stop him kicking, and we were all howling with laughter and excitement, just waiting to see where this was going to go.
“Time out corner!” Dave cried. “Michael you’re going in the time out corner! Just like in Mrs Ketchum’s class!”
Michael was calling us every name under the sun, but when he heard Dave tell me to pop the trunk his tone changed. In the few steps it took for Andy to cover the distance, Michael went from screaming to shouting to pleading to begging and then right back to raging. I later found out he was claustrophobic, something to do with his own dad being a real piece of work. But we didn’t know at the time. We just wanted to scare him a little…
We shoved Michael into that trunk like he was a cardboard box that wouldn’t fit. It took three attempts to slam the hatch shut. First time his ankle got in the way and that must’ve hurt, but Michael was still determined to make his way out. Second time it was his wrist, and Michael’s voice started to falter. Third time we caught his fingers, and Michael started screaming like an injured dog. I often think about him pulling his hand back into the dark. I think about it because it was the moment he gave in and it makes me feel sick to my stomach. At times I blame him for letting us do it… mostly I just hate myself for putting him in that place.
After his hand slithered into the shadows, we finally managed to close the trunk for good and shut out Michael’s hysterical crying. And then we sat, drinking beer, while Michael screamed and howled. It was a ragged desperate kind of shriek that went on rising forever like a violin crescendo, finding new and dangerous notes of despair. You ever heard a dog scream? It had that kind of animalistic quality to it. Andy would later say it was like an opera singer with his hand caught in a wood chipper. I can’t say for certain if it bothered the others as much as me, but after only a few minutes it felt like I was carrying a lead weight in my stomach. We talked and laughed and joked, but I don’t remember what about. Even as I nodded and replied, I found all my thoughts returning to the muffled cries of the young man trapped in the trunk beneath my legs.
By the time he stopped, my girlfriend was coming out the doors, and Dave and Andy said their goodbyes. Two more beers were sent arcing through the air to shatter into a thousand pieces and they were gone like we’d done nothing more interesting than just chat about the weather. I waited for them to turn the corner—my girlfriend had stopped to chat to some of her own friends and I knew I had a few minutes—and I finally opened the damn trunk. By now my stomach was in my ass, that’s how fucking bad I felt. I may have even started mumbling some kind of response. God… maybe even an apology.
But no one was there to hear it. Michael was gone. He’d torn the shit out of the fabric in my car, gouged these long claw marks into it like a pissed off cat. I touched every inch of that trunk like I was trying to find the magician’s secret hatch. By the time my girlfriend made it to my side, I’d pulled what was left of the fabric away and was getting ready to crawl under just to take a look.
“What are you looking for?” she asked, her head cocked to one side.
“N-n-nothing,” I stammered. “He must have… he must have…”
He must have what? I never finished the sentence. I rationalised it, you see. Told myself he’d gotten out, that was all. Even as I rolled past the lot and I saw Michael’s sister staring at his car, looking around for her older brother, I just kept telling myself he’d gotten out and was probably running to the police ready to file assault charges.
Course, that wasn’t true at all. From what I understand, Michael’s sister had to go back in and call her parents, who in turn called the police. I woke up the next morning to Michael’s smiling spotty face on the gazette, the picture cribbed from one of our school photos. It must have been taken at a school play with me standing just a few places over. I was nearly sick with guilt at, and I tried to pretend that my mind was playing tricks on me. Not that it stopped me going over my car with a fine-toothed comb. I’m hardly CSI, but there were a few blond hairs in the back that I’m sure he must have shed. And the scuff marks… they were never imaginary. They were real. 100% authentic. I called Dave and Andy and they confirmed what we’d done, not that they saw it with the same significance.
“Oh he musta got out is all,” Andy said. “For all we know he wandered out and straight into some serial rapist’s van. I don’t know what you’re so worried about. Is he in your basement chained up?”
“No,” I answered.
“Is he dead and buried in your garden?”
“No.”
“Did you chop him up and feed him to his family at a town barbeque?”
“No.”
“Good well chill the fuck out,” Andy said. “We played a mean prank is all. Not my proudest moment, sure. But hardly worth going to the police over.”
I convinced myself of this because it made a kind of sense. We really had just played a mean prank. We hadn’t killed anyone, or raped anyone, or stuck knives into them like they were a pin cushion. But in the background of my mind, I learned a new mantra. It was one I pictured myself saying to the police, to the press, to Michael’s weeping family. It was like a prayer that I started muttering in quiet moments between chores and work. A prayer that’s still with me. A nervous tick that I repeat incessantly in hushed breaths even though I don’t always know what it means.
I didn’t mean no harm. I didn’t mean no harm. I didn’t mean no harm.
They should’ve carved those words into my skin the day I was born. It’d save people who meet me a lot of time. Lied to my old man and got my little brother in trouble? I didn’t mean no harm. Hid my speeding tickets from my parents until the debt collectors came and took the car? I didn’t mean no harm. Got caught driving home after too many drinks? I didn’t mean no harm. Lost my first real girlfriend after I got drunk one night and sent some messages to her sister on Facebook? I didn’t mean no harm! Hell, I got a daughter I don’t see anymore after I overslept one night and didn’t manage to change her. Her mother turned up one Sunday morning to pick her up and found her watching cartoons in a shit-soaked diaper while I slept off an apocalyptic hangover. Last thing I remembered, I’d put her down to sleep and had a couple of beers.
I didn’t mean no harm.
They never found Michael. They looked and looked and, yes, they even looked at us. A few people had seen us messing around with him—some from passing cars, some from tall windows—and the police found out. Our faces were in the local papers, and some wider-reaching ones too, but it never amounted to anything because the police didn’t have a body. His parents made a few public pleas, my car was taken and searched top to bottom. They have it at a police impound where I ought to have picked it up, but never did. A psychiatrist would probably tell you that’s guilt. But fuck… there’s a good chance I left the car to rot because I just couldn’t be bothered. I’m not sure I even know myself anymore.
First time I saw Michael after the incident I was wandering out of a bar and feeling a little mean, which happens a lot when I drink alone. I had a half-bottle of beer in my hand when I passed this homeless guy sitting outside. He was new, probably a drifter, and just looking at him put all these cruel thoughts into my head. I often think cruel things, and I was ready getting ready to ignore these ones like normal, except this homeless man, he calls out and asks for a swig of the beer. And I look at this guy and all these pictures come rushing into my head. Pictures like sawdust soaking up vomit and piss. Pictures like my boss talking down to me after I used the wrong mop in the canteen. Pictures like the way the admin ladies look at me when I smile at them in the smoking area. And then there was this guy, sitting there with a blanket on his knees, absent-mindedly tilting his head side-to-side while waiting for an answer.
“Sure,” I said, and I threw the beer at him so hard it conked him right on the skull. There was a little peep there for a second, a split-second cry of pain that was cut short. It made me laugh. It really did. I hadn’t meant to hit him, just scare him. But the outcome made me giggle anyway. I was already walking away, feeling a little better, when someone else called out to me, and the sound of their voice made my blood freeze solid in my veins.
“Alex,” it said. “Psst! Hey! Alex!”
It was Michael, and I turned feeling as if the whole world was about to snap shut on me like a Venus flytrap. I nearly passed out, just crumpled to the floor then and there. I’d spent too many years telling myself that boy had disappeared on his life, just done a runner off into the horizon to go live in Mexico or Sweden or who-fucking-cares.
“Over here!”
It was coming from the homeless man. I got closer and tried looking for the voice, but all I saw was some smelly old guy, blood trickling down from his temple.
“Down here! Under the blanket.”
I pulled it aside and saw a can of lager—open but empty—resting between the man’s legs.
“That’s it! Right here!”
A finger rose up out of the empty can and wiggled at me like he was saying hello. Michael giggled.
“You found me!”
“What the fuck…?” I said. “Michael? Michael is that you?”
“You bet!” he cried. “Look, I need a favour and I think you owe me given…”
“How the fuck… what is this? A magic trick?” I reached down and took the can and held it up, turning it over and over and even shaking it thinking something would rattle. But nothing did.
“This is not a trick, Alex.”
A veiny eye bulged against the ring-pull and glared at me.
“Been a long time!” Michael said, chirpy in a way he’d never been in real life. “You gonna do me this favour or not? I mean… I don’t want to point fingers or nothing, but who’s fault is it that I’m in here, eh?”
“Uh…”
“Oh you aren’t so fuckin’ witty now, are you?” he laughed. “I didn’t mean no harm,” he added, mocking me with a faux-dumb tone. “You say that in your sleep, you know?”
“Uh huh.”
“Jesus Al, I know I called you dumb but we both know you’re better than all this uh huh, uh huh, uh huh, crap. Come on, use your big boy words!”
I held the can up to my ear and rattled it once more.
“STOP IT!”
He screamed with the authority of a drill sergeant and I dropped the can without thinking.
“Fuck. Shit. Sorry,” I mumbled. “Sorry Mike.” I picked the can up and focused on the ring pull. A single brown eye was looking at me and I felt myself shrink before the withering gaze.
“You gonna help or you just gonna keep trying to make me sea-sick?” he asked.
“Course I will,” I said, nodding. “Anything. Anything at all. You know people are looking for you, right?”
“Did I ask for your fucking advice Alex?” he snapped. “If I ever need to know how to get rid of pubic lice I’ll speak to you ASAP, kay? For now, I just need help. A tiny bit of help. That’s all.”
“Sorry.”
“Look, I think even you can manage this. Just put the can down and, you see that homeless guy? The one you knocked out like a real Good Samaritan?”
“Yeah.”
“Put his finger in the hole.”
“What?”
“The hole in the can,” he said. “Any finger. Doesn’t matter. Just do it.”
I nodded and carefully put the can back where I’d found it. I held the old man’s wrist with one hand and gingerly pinched a single finger with the other, sliding it into the can like I was slipping a wedding band on.
“That’s it,” Michael said. “Up to the knuckle if you can.”
I pushed the finger in as far as it could go without the metal cutting the old man’s skin. I was so close to the poor guy I could smell the coppery trail of blood that ran down his scalp. The realisation made me feel like a real piece of shit. I hadn’t meant to hit him, just scare him. Chance and bad luck meant the bottle had hit him. That was all.
I didn’t mean no harm.
“Oh goody,” Michael giggled after I’d wedged the finger in there good and proper. “Oh and Alex, I have one more favour to ask you.”
“Anything,” I nodded.
“Don’t look away.”
When it was over the can looked like a spent bullet, all frayed around the edges like a blooming flower. And the man was… well, he woke up when the first finger bent backwards at the knuckle. And he looked at me like I was a doctor about to explain some strange amputation. He wasn’t angry at me, he just wanted to know and somehow that made me feel even worse. I’ll never know exactly what happened to him, anatomically speaking. To put it simply that old homeless guy, he got sucked into that can, and not fast like explosive decompression either. It was real slow going, painful too, given the noises he made. And the way he ran around screaming and hollering while his arm was just torn to shreds, that’s something I’ll never forget. As a kid I watched this old horror film and a guy got sucked out into space through this tiny little hole over the space of minutes and it was just like that, only it weren’t cheap rubber and latex skin getting pulped into goo.
By the time it reached his elbow I was trying to help pull it off. Somehow, he was awake the whole time, joints cracking and snapping, bones and muscle sloughing off like melting wax. How no one came to help us I’ll never know. I screamed for help so long my throat turned raw, and I was spitting up blood for days.
Just before the end, the man went quiet and he looked at me like he was a cancer patient that just knew what was coming. The can was up to his shoulder and, without warning, he just slipped on in there. Pop! and the mess flew up into the air and only the can was left behind. You could see the inside plain as day, and there was blood and goo and even a tooth, but there wasn’t a whole human stewing around in there. More like half-a-glass’s worth, but not a whole man.
“Michael?” I whispered.
But no one answered.
They were gone.
-
“Give him what he wants,” Dave said, droning into the phone like a braindead drunk.
“Give who?” I asked.
“You know. We put him in there and he never left.”
“Dave,” I said. “Where are you? Do you need help?”
“Just give him what he wants Al,” he replied. “He’ll ask for a lot, but we owe it to him.”
Click.
The line went dead and I was already putting my coat on before another minute had passed. Dave and I hadn’t spoken in years. Hell, it had been a good four years since I’d heard any voices in cans, whatever that was. A dream, I figured, even if I did drive past some very scared looking cops outside the bar the next day. It was just a dream, I told myself. Yet I knew what Dave was talking about, and that scared the hell out of me.
I didn’t know it at the time, but the garage Dave owned hadn’t opened all day. A string of angry voicemails were left waiting on his phone and the flashing red buzzer lit up the small reception desk with Godly patience. On. Off. On. Off. On. Off. I saw it through the front window with my hands cupped around my face. Dave and his family lived above that place in a small flat, and I had to break a small window around back to get inside. Dave was sat against a wall on the cold shop floor, his chin slumped down over his chest and his legs splayed out in a V. I tried the lights, but they didn’t work, and glass crunched under foot along the way. Someone had done a real number on the place. Rubber and metal lay strewn about the floor in twisted bits and pieces. Whoever owned the car Dave had been working on would be pissed. It was smashed all to hell with panels wrenched off and embedded in the shop walls and floors. The drive shaft was sticking through the back windshield and the roof had been curled back like a sardine can. It looked like it had gone through a vivisection, especially given how liquefied flesh dripped off the twisted frame like vines on an old wreck.
When I moved around to check under the hood, I saw a dense labyrinth of finely machined parts I guessed to be the engine block. Fingers jutted out of every shadowy crevice, and delicate mechanisms were choked with hair and skin. I thought of the old man and the can and felt my gorge rise. Something about the scene looked familiar and I was wondering what that was when a flash of colour caught my eye. I backed away to get a better look and, angling my light, I saw a small red shoe dangling from the bumper by a lace. It was the kind of thing a girl of eight or nine would wear, and it was dripping with blood.
I thought of Dave’s wife, of his kids… of what he’d said on the phone.
“Dave, what did you do?”
“What I had to.”
I looked and Dave was staring right at me, blood filling his mouth. He looked so pale in my light I didn’t know if he was just close to death or an actual talking corpse.
“What happened here?” I asked. “It’s like a bomb went off.”
He stared for a while longer and then lifted his arm, pointing to the car.
“I think his back is broken.”
That voice was like acid in my veins. It definitely wasn’t Dave who’d spoken. He was still staring at me like a drunk on the side of the road, his glassy eyes vacant of all thought.
“Over here Alex,” Michael said, and I followed the voice to the engine block. “Woo hoo.” A small finger wiggled at me out of a black cylinder. “Yes that’s right. Look, I need your help. I know it’s a lot to ask of someone like you, but you gotta admit, you kinda owe me.”
“Sure,” I mumbled. I was dumbstruck by the strangeness, sure. But looking back I can also remember a kind of haze, a crippling guilt so powerful it was like standing on the surface of the sun, like there was enough power in Michael to snap me in two like a bundle of raw spaghetti. “Anything you want.”
“Good,” Michael said. “That’s what I like to hear. What I need is for you to grab Dave, pull him over, and just pop him down against the engine.”
“Anything,” I repeated.
“You’re a good guy you know that Alex?” Michael said. “Just try not to fuck it up.”
I half-expected Dave to put up a fight, but as I stepped over, he just looked at me like we had a job to do. Not really thinking, I gave his shoulder a tug and he fell over. His head hit the floor with a loud crack! Poor fucker. His eyes rolled around like I’d turned his brains to omelette.
“Don’t worry,” Michael cooed. “There was nothing important in there anyway.”
“I deserve it,” Dave slurred. “Shouldn’t have hesitated when it came to my little girl. That was selfish.”
“It was, wasn’t it?” Michael agreed.
“So selfish,” Dave groaned as his eyelids fluttered and his breathing slowed.
It was hard work dragging him, but I got him there. I had to prop him up awkwardly against the slab of metal like it was some kind of upright pillow. It was a clumsy job, but good enough. A single thumb emerged from the darkness and gently rubbed a trickle of drool from Dave’s lip.
“Alex?” Michael said. “I think you know what I’m going to ask, don’t you?”
“Yes,” I nodded. “I won’t look away.”
And I didn’t.
-
I didn’t have a shit childhood but it sure had its moments. Despite a father with anger issues and a mother with gin in her veins, it wasn’t too bad. The only time where I felt truly singled out for cruel and unusual punishment was the time my cousin locked me in an airing cupboard. I’d had a wicked time with night terrors growing up and it was no secret among the family. I think he thought it’d be funny, or that maybe he’d find something out about me. I don’t know. Looking back it was the first time I ever understood what real cruelty was. It was a small space he crammed me into. God no bigger than the inside of your standard washing machine. And dark, obviously. Pitch black all around me. And you gotta understand that to a kid the universe ain’t ordered and sensible. Shit just fuckin’ happens all the time.
Old dude you liked who gave you candy every weekend? He’s dead sorry. Come home to a crying mother? No one’ll tell you why. Wake up one day and your old man don’t go to work no more? He won’t say what happened, but everyone’s crying and it soon turns to fighting. Do you know what a pro-mo-shun is? Well your best friend’s dad just got one, so now you’ll never see him again. Ever.
The universe is chaos.
You will suffer.
Without warning.
Enjoy.
To me and you being locked in a room or a cupboard probably ain’t a big deal. Kick the door down. Scream. Cry. Holler. Shout. Bide your time. Do what you gotta do. But I didn’t know that. I was six and strange things happened to me all the time. How was I to know my Aunt would hear and come open the door in just ten minutes? I didn’t know someone would come for me. I didn’t even know whether this was part of the fucking plan. For all I knew I was right where my parents wanted me, and my suffering was the desired outcome.
You’d think I’d be scared of dying in there. But as I screamed so hard that my lungs turned ragged, well… it wasn’t dying I was thinking about. It was living. It was spending my whole life trapped in the dark, in the cold and lonely outskirts of existence where no one would come to get me. How long does a person live? Eighty, ninety, a hundred years? To a kid it doesn’t matter. It’s all the time you got and when you’re six you have a lot of time. And there I was in a space so small I couldn’t stand or lie down or lift my elbows more than a few inches from my side.
By the time my Aunt arrived I’d broken two fingers and dislocated a shoulder. Panic can do that to you. I remember her looking so sad and worried and confused. She asked me why I’d done it, let myself get so crazy, but I wouldn’t say. If she didn’t know already, she’d never understand. I only did what I did because of something that, deep down, all kids know. But then they grow up and forget. Or at least you’re supposed to.
You’re never alone in the dark. There’s always something waiting for you in there.
You’re not meant to remember that fact as an adult. It’s meant to burn away until it’s just ash. But something about Michael had set the thought ablaze in me again… maybe it was when I locked him in the trunk. Maybe it was when he first came back. But as time ticked on I was starting to feel like I could just about glimpse something in the corner of my eye. Like I had a taste of the truth and it was hurting me… physically hurting me like a knife in my skull being twisted around by a great big greasy fist. Sometimes I’d find myself staring at shadows and trying to look beyond the dark into the place beyond, the place I’d seen first-hand as a kid, the place that Michael had slipped into… or more-likely dragged.
“I didn’t expect her to grow up like that.”
Andy was sat next to me, his feet up on the dashboard with a cigarette between his lips. Trying not to make him look, I pulled up my sleeve and wiped away the blood collecting in the corner of my eyes. I’d been staring at the footwell for the last hour or so, refusing to blink. If Andy had thought me crazy, he didn’t say. Truth is he didn’t look so hot either. He’d had a wife once upon a time. A real battle axe. Dave and I used to joke that if it weren’t for the fact we saw the two of them in the same room, we would think Mrs Andy was just her husband in a wig. But Andy liked her. He did. He liked her a lot. And by the time we finally saw fit to contact each other, I was pretty sure Andy had already given his beloved over to Michael.
“She’s looking good,” he smiled, biting the tip of his tongue like a cherry pip.
I looked at the young woman walking down the street and I shrugged. I hadn’t had thoughts like that for a long time.
“Looks like him. You can see the family resemblance,” I said.
“Do you think he can see us? Do you think he sees everything we do?”
“I don’t know,” I replied. “I’m not sure he’s even human anymore.”
“Well you better hope he is,” Andy scowled. “Otherwise this plan is shot to shit. She’s a pretty thing though. Couple of ways we could show him we’re serious.”
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” I replied. “We need to show him what he can lose if he doesn’t leave us alone.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean let’s try and scare him, yeah? Not piss him off even more than he already is.”
“Whatever! Now come on and get ready” Andy said, sitting upright and slapping his thighs with excitement. “Here she comes.”
Something about this experience was wearing on me. The last few weeks had started to smudge together. I wasn’t even sure how I’d gotten out of Dave’s place. It was like my brain had purged all those events from my memory and yet sometimes if I closed my eyes I’d see skin-coloured wax melting through a sieve. It made me ill every time. But it wasn’t just that rolling around inside my head, making me nervous. It was Andy. He had a nasty little look in his eye.
The girl was on her way home from college. She was all grown up since I’d last seen her standing outside her school, looking around for her missing brother. She looked like she’d grown up on the straight and narrow, and I could see a satchel bouncing around by her hips that was full of thick-looking text books. It was fucking bizarre but right before we snatched her, right before Andy lunged outta the car to hug her waist and throw her against the door, I remember thinking,
Good for her… getting an education.
And then Andy punched her so hard her head snapped back against the car window and she went out cold, sliding onto the floor.
“Got the little bitch,” Andy growled as he bundled her into the car. “Come on! Move it! Fuckin’ move! We can’t just sit here forever!”
I turned the keys and pulled outta the alley we’d been hidden in. When I looked in the rearview mirror I could see Andy staring down at Michael’s sister.
He looked insane.
-
“Don’t,” I said, and I gently pulled Andy’s hand away from the girl’s hair. He’d spent the last few minutes caressing her head a bowling ball.
“Isn’t the whole point to scare him?” he asked, flashing me a toothy grin.
“It’s me you’re scaring right now,” I said. “Just… just wait…”
“For what? She wakes up and starts crying ‘Michael Michael come save me!’?”
“I don’t know,” I answered, wiping another trickle of blood away from the corner of my eye. We were sat in our old locker room. The school had been shut down years ago and all its students sent to another place a few towns over. There was no electricity, so we had to bring our own lights. They cast harsh shadows that plucked away at my consciousness like the aura of a migraine. “Please just sit down,” I said. “And stop pacing.”
“How the fuck is this my fault?” Andy screamed, and he probably didn’t mean the words entirely for my benefit. For a brief moment he unravelled and punched a locker door so hard, and so often, that he left an impression of his knuckles as bloody dents. Only when the locker collapsed backwards did he seem to finally register where he was and who he was with, and he sucked a long breath between his teeth while trying to soothe his sore fist. Muttering furiously, he walked over to a nearby sink and washed the blood away.
“I gave him what he asked for,” he said when he finally came back. “Did everything he wanted. Not just Bethel either. The dogs. The cat. The chickens out back. Even the fucking ficus had to go. If it lived, it went.”
I just nodded.
“It wasn’t enough,” he growled.
“It never will be.”
The girl was awake and she was looking right at me. Her voice had made me think of how funeral homes smell, like it was the kinda thing that’d talk to you as you turned to mush in a crypt somewhere.
“Oh boy!” Andy cried, stepping towards her like a boxer in the ring. “Here we go sweetheart!”
He grabbed her chin with one hand, and he looked ready to crush her head in a single move. Big guy, our Andy. But for some reason I wasn’t too worried about that. It was the girl. How long had she been listening to us? And the way she looked… she didn’t seem right. Even as Andy lifted an arm and sent an open-handed slap barrelling towards her, she never looked away from me. She barely even flinched.
“Michael!” he roared, turning to every corner of the room. “We have your fucking sister! We have her and we’re not afraid to hurt her cause we ain’t got nothing left to lose! Anything we do now pal, it’s on you!” His voice was hoarse like a soldier screaming bloody murder. Like this was a battlefield and he was getting ready to face off against a final foe. Like he had it all figured out.
But I was starting to get the funny feeling we hadn’t found a winning strategy at all.
“That’s not true,” she said.
“Where’s your brother?” Andy roared, hitting her again. “Tell him to come out! Tell him to come out and face me like a fucking man!”
“What’s not true?” I asked, my words frightened whispers.
“You have plenty left to lose,” she answered. “Alex,” she smiled, her mouth all crooked from where Andy’s gorilla-fist was crushing her cheeks in his palm. “Could you do me a favour? Please?”
Andy looked at me for a moment like he thought I’d planned some kinda ambush, and her and I were in league.
“Don’t answer her,” he said. “What the fuck is going on!?”
“Don’t look away,” she said. “It’s important to him that you watch.”
“I won’t,” I whispered, and I think it was right about then that Andy’s bluster failed. I’m sure I saw a flicker of recognition in his eyes before the hand reached out of the girl’s mouth and grabbed his wrist. Andy cried for me. He cried a lot. Towards the end he cried for his mother, for Bethel too. But the girl, she never cried. What happened to her was probably just as bad as what happened to him, worse even. Bodies aren’t meant to do that. But whatever hold Michael had over her, it was strong. I guess it must be so dark inside a person…
By the end she looked like a clay statue of a girl that had been squished by a toddler’s fist, those chubby fingers gripping so hard that some parts squeezed out in funny trickles, while other bits split apart and crumbled. I remember looking into her chest cavity when it was over, looking at the way the shadows made it look so big and vacant. I’m pretty sure her head had been split open in places, but it was hard to know what was her, and what were just the dripping remains of Andy.
I was captivated by the raw destruction of the scene. I must have stayed there for an hour, just looking down at her. Sometimes I’d catch a sound, a little bit like a crying man. It sounded like Andy but it didn’t always come from the gaping hole made out of the girl’s collarbones. Sometimes it came from the lockers behind me.
If I listen carefully, I can still hear him screaming in the dark.
-
“Don’t do that again,” he said.
“I won’t.”
“Don’t try to threaten or intimidate or outwit me.”
“I won’t.”
“I’ve seen what’s on the other side.”
I nodded.
“It’s not good,” he added. “You’re not meant to have a body here. Makes you… indigestible. It’s been a real struggle, Al. You owe me for what you did, more than just a single lifetime because thanks to you I’m not going anywhere, am I?”
“No…”
“It was a rhetorical question, Al.”
“Sorry.”
“You should be,” he said.
“Are you okay?”
The words pulled me away. I’d been staring at my feet the whole time, my eyes drawn to the patch of shadow beneath my seat. The train shuddered gently as it traced the railway’s curve, the lights flickering weakly. I could feel the air growing heavy.
“What’s your name?”
The woman sat beside me and smiled. She was old and spoke with a sympathetic authority.
“Alex,” I said.
“How are you feeling Alex?”
“Not good,” I answered, and to my surprise I burst out crying. “Not good at all.”
“I’m Beatrice,” the old woman said. “But you can call me Bee.”
“Thank you Bee.”
“Do you have anywhere safe to stay, Alex?”
I nodded, wiping the snot from my nose.
“Are you going there now?”
The few other passengers aboard were looking at Bee like she’d just approached a hungry lion. They’d spent the journey doing everything to avoid me, treating me like your typical lunatic. I never tried to hide anything, never tried to hide who I was or what was going to happen. But they always thought I was talking to the voices in my head. They didn’t know I was speaking to the shadows. They didn’t know how real it was.
“Do you need any help getting home?” Bee asked. “Is there anyone I could call for you?”
“I have no one,” I said, feeling my heart break a little at the admission. When I looked up at Bee, I saw the tunnel fast approaching. I reached out and grabbed Bee’s hand so tight it must have hurt. She looked so worried, so concerned. Her eyes darted around looking for what had scared me. When she realised what had scared me, she looked relieved.
“Oh it’s okay,” she said. “Are you claustrophobic? I’ll be here the whole time but don’t you worry. The darkness always passes.”
The train entered the tunnel. There were a few gasps, one even from Bee who must’ve wondered, just like all the others, why the shadow that enveloped us was so devastatingly black. That was the last noise any of them made. There were no screams. Only a whoosh of displaced air, like I’d stood next to a speeding truck on the highway. Something enormous had just passed me by, and it took all my strength not to scream.
There were other things too. Smaller predators floating behind in a shoal, scavenging what little remained. They would ignore me if I stayed perfectly still, so said Michael. When the light returned there was there was hardly a sign that there’d ever been anyone else aboard. The sole exception being the severed hand of Bee that remained clutched in my fist. Even in plain daylight I couldn’t bring myself to let go. I just kept holding it, hoping and willing the past few minutes could somehow reverse and undo themselves. I didn’t want to be this person. I didn’t want to be responsible for anyone’s suffering.
“But you are,” Michael said, and when I looked back down he was there. “You are very responsible. None of it could happen without you. You think that things would be like this if it had just been Dave or Andy on top of that car? No, Alex. It was you. You remembered what lives in the dark, and they remembered you.”
I let go of Bee’s hand and it fell to the floor.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“It’s too late for that Alex. You carry this darkness around like luggage. And the holes you make are getting bigger every day. A lot of those people are still in one piece. Do you know what that means? They’re alive. And there’s no time here. No death. No entropy. They will always be alive. And the things that live here just love flesh. Can’t eat it, but they sure do love to play with it. Something alive, something whole, that’s like Christmas. They spent a long time playing with me. But I’m not sure ol’ Bee will be able to strike up a deal like I did. No escape for her.”
“I should kill myself,” I whispered.
“You can,” Michael said. “But where do you think you’ll go?”
“Hell?” I asked.
“Oh Alex,” he laughed. “Hell implies another option. But this is all there is. Just an abyss. The abyss. And the things that live in it. You don’t have a lot of time in the light, nobody does. But that’s why it’s so important you put it to the best use. And, as we’ve already discussed, everything you have really belongs to me, doesn’t it?”
“It does.”
“So what are we going to do?”
“I’ll give you whatever you want.”
“Good,” and I could hear the smile in Michael’s voice. “There’s another stop soon. Just a few more people, then we’ll move on. Gotta change it up Al. We don’t want to draw too much attention. After all, there’s so much more you can give me.”

Wall of text warning... I posted the other day and have had many good discussions about how Doge works in the real world. I thought it would be interesting to talk to other small business owners that are or are considering implementing doge into their small businesses. Seriously though don't base any business decisions on something some dude from the internet said. Only you know whats best and feasible for your own businesses. I am not here to offer financial advise only to show some insight into how it was put into place in my business and my decision making process.
​
I have been involved in cryptos for about 3 years. I was serving and my manager at the time was pushing me hard about buying some TRX. So I did some research and hit a NANO/XRP/XLM pop and I was off to the races. I lost and gained and mostly lost but I was viewing the market as a slot machine. Bet on X and hope it hits. Bet on Y and hope it hits. Depending on your bets and what hits it can lull you into thinking you are a genius/idiot. I finally realized its not about quick money but is a long term investment and changed my strategy accordingly. After that I saw some modest gains. I also stopped trying to catch falling knives which helped alot. I had to cash out to help get me to where I am but I'm good with the trade off. I say all that to let you know that you need to, at the very least, know how to navigate the crypto marketplace. Just as in every decision you make for your business you need to have a basic knowledge of anything you are integrating into your business. That is the only reason I was able to throw it together so quickly.
Full disclosure I do have a small holding in Doge that has returned a nice profit and I personally would love to see it hit the moon. However I try to set aside those biases when making business related decisions.
I own a small business. I employ 7 people. I make food and as of last week I accept Dogecoin as payment for my goods. I know that Doge is a very controversial topic right now. Depending on who you are talking to it could be the best or worst thing in the world. Those things are fun to talk about but don't provide any help when making choices that have real world ramifications in regards to my income. That is why I wanted to talk about this. As a business owner it is hard to find information about doge that isn't memes or people bashing it. Below is my reasoning and I hope we can have a conversation about the pros and cons of doge in real world applications. I will never be too old to learn and I know many of you have much more knowledge about this topic than I do and I would love to hear it.
​

1. The biggest reasoning behind doing this is cost of entry. It literally cost me nothing. (Before you start yelling about capital gains wait till the end and I will address that.) I didn't have to buy any equipment to accept it. I don't have processing fees aside from transfer costs which compared to credit card fees are a non factor. And I have no large companies I have to setup accounts with or sign long term contracts. I was able to throw together a way to accept payment with a basic knowledge of the crypto market. That's it. If I never do a single transaction in doge I will be out zero dollars just to offer it.
2. Risk. I know it is risky to accept doge as a payment method but being in the food service industry is much riskier than that. For real, anyone that understands the margins in this industry knows its teetering on a cliff at all times. That being said there is inherent risk in everything and every situation needs to be judged on its own merits. In my situation the risk is very minimal. Even if doge drops to pre-pump levels I could at least recoup my food costs. Regardless of the USD price of doge that will not change the USD amount I will receive in doge per transaction. If today a pizza cost 200 doge and tomorrow it cost 500 then at the time of purchase I am receiving the same USD equivalent at the time of purchase. Which I can then take (weekly, daily, or even every transaction) and after a couple clicks I have those funds in a more stable currency like USD or even Tether. I know capital gains and all of the taxes involved could eat into profits. Yes that is true but even in the most aggressive models I imagine I will do sub 1% gross sales in doge in the near future. At this point I'm willing to accept the loss of profit but that may need to be reevaluated in the future.
3. It is so much more accessible than bitcoin. Coming from someone that deals with a demographic that is very under educated in regards to crypto, bitcoin can be intimidating. It's scary for beginners to jump into something that they will probably never amass one of. When talking about small retail purchases bitcoin is simply too out of scale. If real world implementation is what crypto is going for IN MY OPINION any coin valued over $500 will make most of the general public very hesitant to use in their everyday life. If I accepted Bitcoin a pizza would cost around 0.00047btc. Anyone that is not knowledgeable about crypto looks at that very strangely. We are not accustomed to seeing anything greater than a hundredth of a decimal in regards to currency. The market cap being what it is for doge is a positive in my opinion. Would it be great if it went to $40000 per doge? Absolutely but it's counter productive to smaller retail purchases. It benefits smaller sized establishments for doge to be in levels we work in. Doge is the training wheels that will get people to a point of keeping non-investment funds in a crypto for day to day spending use. Which brings me to my final point.
4. It makes me smile. I am almost 32. I grew up with the internet as it grew up. I've watched as the internet meta went from one thing to another and eventually became integrated into the everyday lives of people young and old. I struggle with the constant pressures of everyday responsibility and general crap that comes with being an adult. I miss the days of not having to worry about bills and the future. When I had everything setup to accept doge it made me laugh like I was a kid again. It actually made me giggle. Like a uncontrollable giggle. It took me back to the days of calling a restaurant and asking for Semore Butts. It is in essence the most childish thing I can do in my professional life and I love it. Doge, to me, isn't about being over or under valued. It's about the meme. It's about bringing a little joy, not only back into my life, but into my professional life at that.

That is why I did it. It has been a long pandemic for every small business. I have struggled with mental and physical health from the constant worry. The day in day out monotony of will I be able to pay my bills. That is why I believe in doge. It is a way for everyone to collectively laugh together at the pure outrageousness that was 2020. Look around at everything that is happening. We live in a time that has a pandemic killing thousands daily, riots and civil unrest at every turn, and a world that is seemingly on fire everywhere we look. Who's to say I can't accept a meme right next to cash or credit? No offense to all of the technical analysis and DD everyone does but I think we can sometimes get too focused on the hard numbers and forget to include the human element of it. Doge is a way for everyone to connect and has a very easy barrier of entry to overcome. It doesn't have a specific industry or field application behind it. It's about Doing Only Good Everyday.
If you have made it this far I would love to hear your feedback and to have a discussion about crypto and real world application in general.
This is simply me telling you how I implemented Dogecoin into my current business with zero disruption and zero negatives. I'm not betting the house on doge. I'm not altering my business model or strategy. I'm not trying to become a billionaire. I'm just trying to have a little fun in a world that is not very fun right now.
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And because I'm really excited about it. I already made my first sale with DOGE. u/NoGuts007 has donated 20 pizzas for my local healthcare workers. I'll be delivering them tomorrow. If nothing else comes from this at least I was able to do some good in this world as the result.

Background
IL casinos reopened last week. Drove down (about a 45 minute drive) this past Saturday only to find out that they were limiting how many people were in the casino and there was a 30+ minute wait (in the cold) so we decided to cut our losses and return home. I was bummed but my wife already wasn't excited about going to rivers. She prefers Potawatomi (Milwaukee) but they have removed all tables..hence my desire to go to Rivers (they do have 3 bubble machines at Potawatomi but not the same to me).
Because my wife wasn't too excited about going to Rivers, I knew my time might be short. I was hoping she would have a good day on the slots so I could play a while....but I also didn't want to push it too much as I'm hoping to go back down again and didn't want her annoyed waiting for me while I'm having fun.
The Casino
We had a snow storm come through the area on Tuesday and work was slow so we decided to try Rivers again Tuesday afternoon. The place was busy but not crazy and they had a lot of tables running. From a craps perspective, I counted 5 tables (one $5, three $10, and a $15). 3 to a side. One thing that surprised me is they were apparently short 'boxmen' as I only counted two and they were bouncing between tables, primarily handling cash and coloring up. My dealer took my cash and gave me chips without a boxman at the table. The table I joined ($5) was full but there was at least one $10 table with only one guy at it when I left.
As far as other table games go, Blackjack had $10 & $15 tables I saw and Ultimate Texas Hold'em had $5 and $15 tables. I'm sure there were other games being run but those are my jam so that is what I noted.
My short time playing Craps
I must have pulled up at the right time as a spot was open at the $5 table. Point was either 8 or 9 so I waited to join. They had just hit all the small and were one away from all the tall (I believe the 9). The guy to my left played a heavy lay bet as he had $10 on the all. The next roll hit the point and the roll after got them all...I believe a roll or two after 7'd out. I got in after the point was hit and ended up losing a little of my starting ($300) bankroll. I was playing the line with heavy odds (100x at rivers).
After that the dice made a fairly quick pass around the table. I rolled poorly in my first time rolling. Going into the casino, I assumed they would only have $15 tables so I wanted to try placing a $30 6/8 and then lowering it to table minimum after the first hit. Since I was at a $5 table, I adjusted a bit to play the line with odds but still placed a $30 6/8 on some shooters. That didn't work too well my first time at bat. I believe by the time it came back to me, I was down to my final $100. I played a similar strategy. I usually only play ATS when I roll which I did ($5 minimum). I hit a couple 6/8's but was down so much that I abandoned my strategy of lowering my wages after the first hit (I came to play, right?). Ended up hitting all the small and only had a 9 left on the tall. The guy to my left again, played a heavy lay bet against the 9 but I took a chance....I should have followed his lead as the next roll was a 7,
At this point I was close to my starting bankroll (I believe the small paid $160). I played the line and the point started at an 8. I placed the 6 for $30 and $25 odds. What I didn't do was play ATS. I mean...what are the chances.....but the guy to my left was having a good day. He played $5/$15/$5 on the ATS I believe. By now you probably see where this is heading....all the small was again hit first (again)...I don't recall what the last number was on the tall but he did his heavy lay ($900 I think) but hit it for a $2000 plus payout.
I ended up with $450 after tipping. My wife was having horrible luck at the slots and wasn't 'in the mood' so we weren't even there an hour (that's right....1.5 hours driving round trip and less than an hour at the casino). It felt like I should have been up a lot more but points weren't actually hitting that much...I hit my place bets a few times and then I hit the small once. But it was fun to see my 'teammate' next to me go up probably $3k in the short time I was there....I don't even think he was playing much outside the line bet and the place bets I mentioned.
All in all...a fun time was had. Wish I could have played longer (of course) but leaving with a 50% profit and not annoying my wife too much is a win in my book. Now I just have to wait for my next trip to Michigan/Indiana (Four Winds/Bluechip) next month.

Cover Art!
Story Summary: After years of beatings and neglect from her parents, 13-year old Frances was summoned with her entire class to the fantastical world of Durannon to fight the monsters invading the human kingdoms and defeat the "Demon King." If she succeeds, she might have the home she never had. But if she can't overcome the trauma and self-loathing inflicted on her by her abusive parents, Frances will die, and be summoned back to the home she escaped, on the day that she left.
Teaser: Let's say the Grand Army of Erlenberg isn't going to be a Grand Army for much longer.
[The Beginning] [<=Book 2 Chapter 28 (92)] [Chapter Index and Blurb] [Book 2 Chapter 30 (94)=>]
Index of Windwhistler Family Members
Art of Frances's friends, Elizabeth, Martin, Ayax and Timur. Courtesy of RianneDraws :)
Fractured Song Discord Server so you can ask me questions and just hang with other fans. We have a meme channel. It has memes of the serial.
Pre-chapter note: The break did me a tone of good as I have 4 more chapters on top of my patreon chapters backlogged muahahahah. So much in store! Thank you for your patience.
Trigger Warning: Mention/Discussion of sexual assault/coerced sex.
Elizabeth decided to cross the bridge. As she explained it, she was far more worried about being caught on the wrong side of the river than the possibility of encountering enemies.
Frances led the company of soldiers guarding the bridge itself, whilst Martin brought up the rest of their troops.
“Ma’am—Frances, we should strip the bodies of supplies or anything useful,” said Ginger.
Frances winced, but nodded. “I agree. Take ten and see what you can get. We’ll keep watch.”
Ginger gave Frances a look that the girl couldn’t quite read, but proceeded, grabbing ten of the older convicts.
There wasn’t much to recover. Goblin gear wasn’t sized for most humans, but they took the goblin’s ammo pouches and any food they’d carried with them. However, most of the goblins were dead thanks to her spells, which… didn’t leave the bodies in the best condition.
Frances didn’t want to look at them, but she forced herself to take in their corpses. In her heart, she hoped that they’d find their rest somewhere peaceful.
Despite the wait, they weren’t attacked before the rest of the soldiers arrived with Martin. Even after they made their crossing and their supply wagons had trundled over the bridge, there was no counterattack.
It was a stroke of luck that urged the group on and soon they were clear away from the bridge, taking one of the smaller paths that snaked through the Pinewood. It wasn’t entirely smooth going, though, and the wagons got stuck several times.
“How did the army get through this foresty crap?” Ginger muttered. She and Ayax were at the head of the column, doing their best to navigate through the forest, and clear a way through if necessary. Ayax’s magic was thus rather helpful in this endeavour.
“We took barges that ran down the Silverstream under the bridge we crossed. There are roads, but as you can see, they’re not very good,” explained Ayax. She smirked, “You should be glad that we’re in the Pinewoods. The foresters keep the undergrowth fairly tamed.”
“At least we’re stopping soon,” said Ginger, looking up at the sky. It was beginning to set.
Crack.
“We’re under attack!”
Ayax and Ginger spun around and charged toward the back of the column, where they heard the shots from. They passed scrambling men and women reaching for weapons, until Elizabeth suddenly stepped in front of them.
“Ginger, come with me. Ayax, stay in the front! I need you leading the column with the first company! Keep us moving!” Elizabeth bellowed.
Ayax grimaced, but nodded and turned. “Come on! Keep moving forward, get those wagons going!”
Elizabeth and Ginger continued to run down the line, until they’d reached the fight.
Frances and about thirty of their musketeers were firing at approaching enemy musketeers, using the trees as cover. About twenty foot soldiers were taking cover behind trees, but were ready, spears and swords in hand.
As for their enemy, they were ogres. Tall, broad-shouldered, human-like, but not at the same time. They were very similar to their cousins, the trolls. Both had black eyes, but unlike trolls, they didn’t have tails or pointed ears and every single one of them without exception had a mane of hair that flowed down their backs. If one got closer, one would notice they had six fingers.
At least, both sides were trying to shoot each other. The interspersed trees provided plenty of cover. Combine that with the dim light and the terrible accuracy of the muskets meant that only Frances was hitting anything.
What the ogres musket fire was doing was keeping their heads down so that their compatriots, a group of ogre soldiers, could advance, in a loose skirmishing formation. In the dim light, Elizabeth wasn’t sure how many were there, but there were a lot.
“What are your orders? We could withdraw or counterattack. They might have reinforcements, though,” Ginger pointed out.
Elizabeth pursed her lips and was about to nod, until she suddenly didn’t. “Ginger, I have an idea. I’ll be back in a minute. Frances, keep them pinned and knock down a few trees if you have to!”
Frances ducked behind a tree and shouted, “Alright!” With that she began to charge her lightning spell. Ginger however, grabbed Elizabeth’s arm.
“You’re just going to leave us?” Ginger yelled. The convict’s eyes were wild with fury, before they suddenly froze and she released Elizabeth, a horrified look on her face.
Elizabeth, taking a breath, smiled disarmingly and said, “Ginger, I’m sorry for worrying you, but I’m leaving to get our new cavalry force. Their horses should be rested enough for one charge. I need you to get our soldiers here ready to join us. Can you do that?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Ginger stammered.
“Good. I’ll see you.” Elizabeth got to her feet and dashed after their convoy.
Ginger stared at her back, before picking herself up and running to join the foot soldiers. “Right, so Elizabeth said she’s bringing reinforcements. We need to be ready to charge.”
“You sure she’s not just running?” whispered one of the convicts.
Ginger hesitated and jumped, well, everybody jumped as a crack of thunder split the air.
Frances’s spell had sent the ogres running for more cover, leaving another ten or so twitching or motionless on the ground. It also made Ginger realize something.
“The commander is not going to leave her best friend here. Just get ready,” Ginger ordered, drawing her sword. The cheap, blunt-pointed hacking blade was more of a stretched butcher’s chopper with a hilt than a sword. It was still a good weapon, though.
The musket fire coming their way had slackened to a couple of odd shots. The ogres were too busy ducking for cover from the brown-haired girl hurling lightning bolts at them.
That cover was promptly destroyed, when one of these bolts of lightning struck a tree with a crack. The tree swayed, resisted for a moment, and came crashing down, sending ogres running.
“Troops, prepare to charge!”
Ginger looked up. Elizabeth and the horsemen they’d met that morning were formed in a rough line, swords drawn.
“Prepare to charge!” Ginger echoed, getting to her feet, smiling. She’d never been so glad to be wrong. Their young commander did have a clue.
“Charge!” Elizabeth kicked her horse into a gallop, leading the horsemen through the trees. The charge wasn’t just one body, but there were enough gaps between the trees for them to pass through. The cavalry charged past Ginger, roaring, swords colored red by the setting sun.
The ogres ran. Even the foot soldiers. Ginger didn’t know why. Ogres were brave, and not the smartest. They liked fighting, though, not as much as orcs. They wouldn’t just run.
A bolt of magic sailed over their heads, exploding amidst the retreating Alavari, and it suddenly clicked for Ginger as she glanced at Frances.
The ogres did want to fight, but against a mage firing lightning bolts? When that mage was backed up by charging cavalry and foot soldiers that were hollering war cries and charging at them? Even orcs wouldn’t want to take this battle.
Ginger whooped with laughter and let herself for the moment, stop wondering about how her superiors were going to screw her over.
---
They didn’t get many ogres. The forest really slowed the horses down and so Elizabeth had, once the ogres were fleeing, called the charge off and had them rejoin the convoy, where the tired soldiers were given their meals.
After an apprehensive sniff, Ginger had hungrily devoured the stew, which was quite good. She had also noticed that while Frances got several bowls of stew, nobody got a different meal. The stately Ayax ate from the same bowl as the convict soldier she was sitting beside. And to Ginger’s confusion, Frances apologized twice for needing to eat more, explaining that she was a mage, and she needed more energy. It was as if she expected somebody to be annoyed for her to be taking her fair share.
It was confusing enough for Ginger to get up and decide to check the supplies. Much as she appreciated the meal, she also knew that most officers tended to think of supplies as an afterthought, especially young officers like Elizabeth.
Only, when she got to the wagon, she saw Martin seated on said wagon, frantically scribbling into a paper with his charcoal pencil.
“What you doin’?” Ginger asked.
“Calculating supplies. We used a little bit of the surplus today to reward everybody. Just want to double check to see how many meals can we make,” said Martin, not looking up. His blue eyes focused on the paper he was writing.
Ginger nodded thoughtfully. “And how much do we have?”
“If we stretch it we have enough for a week, assuming we don’t pick up any more stragglers.” Martin wrote something down and grimaced. “We might be down to hard tack, but we’ll have something to eat. We’ll have to use the fresh stuff first, though. I think we should fight only when we have that available.”
“That’s… what I was going to suggest,” said Ginger, blinking. Wringing her hands behind her back, she coughed. “Do you need any help?”
“That would be nice. Can you read?” At her nod, Martin handed her a sheaf of paper and asked her to check his figures. Ginger did find a few mistakes, but the handsome knight took them in stride and he corrected them quickly.
And the odd feeling Ginger had in her chest grew.
---
Early morning, the convoy… it wasn’t really a convoy any more. They had too many soldiers for that and there was a confidence in the marching humans and Alavari.
In the centre of the column though, near the wagons, the leaders of the… group? Well they were having a heated discussion.
“We’re three hundred against an entire army. We can’t win this!” Ginger hissed.
She’d spent the last thirty minutes trying to convince her superiors that the best thing to do was to end their fighting on a high note and get the hell back to the city. But for whatever reason, they weren’t convinced.
And it was surprisingly not just the Otherworlders’ faults. It was the normal people. Like Ayax, the troll, certainly brave, but perhaps too brave.
“And bring the fight to the city? That’s a terrible idea!” Ayax exclaimed.
Elizabeth nodded. “We’re in terrain that favors our smaller force and allows us to skirmish better. I understand your caution, but we should fight.”
Ginger gritted her teeth. Elizabeth wasn’t wrong, and part of her had to admit the commander’s judgement wasn’t bad. Still, fighting a larger force with a smaller one was still risky as hell.
“Our soldiers don’t have much training, though,” Frances said quietly.
Now as for Frances? Well Ginger was fine with her. She asked sharp questions or made intelligent observations. Ginger only wished she was less of a wet towel and had more backbone.
“Yes, so we need to give them more experience now, when we have some advantages,” said Elizabeth.
“That and we received orders through Frances’s mirror today from Lady Eleanor Windwhistler. We’re to do our best to hold them up while the city rallies their remaining troops,” Martin added.
Ginger glanced at the knight. She had no idea what to think of Martin. On one hand, he was incredibly level-headed and despite being a noble, didn’t mind the commoners giving their thoughts. On the other, the handsome knight had no business being so friggin good at following the rules that most nobles (and commoners) found ways to circumvent.
“How many escaped to the city by the way?” Elizabeth asked. She’d been on watch duty that night and so missed Frances’s latest conversation with her grandmother.
“Ten thousand. The other four thousand were either captured or killed. Somehow, General Yuan survived,” said Ayax. She grimaced, “Our intelligence says the Alavari have been reinforced. They have twenty thousand soldiers.”
Ginger threw her hands up. “Then they can overrun us completely. We need to leave the Pinewoods or else we’re all fucked. That they haven’t just formed a massive skirmish line and just combed the forest is a miracle.”
Elizabeth shut her eyes, rubbing her temples. “Right, I’ve made my decision. We’re going to set up an ambush on the main road through the pinewoods and hit their scouting group. After that, we’ll reevaluate. Maybe one more raid before we get out of here.”
Ginger felt faint. One more raid? Their barely blooded soldiers against the might of Thorgoth’s army? Did these teens not care about dying?
“Oh fuck you! That’ll just get us all killed! Screw our orders and the fucking city. They’re not fighting by our side! They aren’t going to be burying us!”
Ginger blinked as everybody stared at her, and that was when she realized she’d just said that out loud.
Oh no. Oh no. She braced herself, waiting for the inevitable. She’d gone too far this time.
“Ginger, I’m sorry you don’t agree, but I’ve made my decision. Do you need a moment?” Elizabeth asked.
Ginger blinked. Elizabeth was staring at her, but there was no anger, or even disdain. Instead, she, and her friends, were giving her similar looks of an emotion she barely recognized.
“I’m sorry, what?”
“Ginger, we do appreciate your input and we thank you for your words of caution,” said Frances. She smiled, “And while I know we can’t agree on this, we’re glad you still told us. That being said, you seem very frustrated and tired and I know you took the sentry watch in the middle of the night. Maybe a nap might help?”
Frances was right. She was tired and irritated because of the night watch. But that wasn’t what was concerning her, and driving her mad at the same time.
“I… fine!” She left the band of crazy teenagers as fast as she could. The faster she could take a nap, the better she might feel.
When Ginger woke up, she realized that the wagon wasn’t rolling. She also found that she was covered by a blanket, and there was a flask of water next to her.
She threw the blanket off of her and grabbed the flask, emptying part of it over her head, and swigging the rest.
A knock on the wooden spar that held the wagon’s canopy made her look to the entrance to the wagon.
There was the damned knight Martin, carrying two bowls of some kind of food and a loaf of bread.
“Hey, Ginger. We just started cooking dinner. Are you feeling better?”
Yes she was. “Kinda,” she said, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Food first.”
Martin handed the bowl to her and split the loaf, giving half to her. She yanked it out of his hand and ate, ignoring whatever he thought of her eating habits.
The knight ate slowly, genteely. He was a noble after all and while he did take a seat across her, all he did was eat.
“Okay what are you playing at?” Ginger demanded.
Martin took a bite from his bread. “Well I’ll be honest, I was wondering if you wanted to talk. You know, tell me a little more about yourself.”
“What’s there to tell? I’m a convict. I was a soldier. And if you want to know about my family well they’re just farmers in Leipmont.” Ginger glared at the knight, trying to figure out what the heck he wanted. He had to be beating around the bush for something.
“Well that’s a start. Got any siblings?” Martin asked, smiling.
“Yeah. Too many. I liked them enough, but I needed out of the house. Don’t think my parents want me back. Not after what I did.”
“I’m sorry about that.” Martin pursed his lips. “I have one sibling, an older sister. She’s called Mara and she’s in Roranoak with the expeditionary forces.”
“Makes sense. She’s the heir to Conthwaite.” Ginger frowned. “What are you doing with two Otherworlders and an Erlenberg mage?”
It had been a question bugging her for a while. The four made an odd group and yet, they seemed to work almost in concert. There was this closeness that was irritatingly sincere and sweet. She didn’t believe it for a second. Something else had to be keeping them together.
“Oh, well it’s a long story. I was assigned with Elizabeth to escort Frances during a mission and we became good friends. Frances got adopted by Edana Firehand, her mentor and while meeting the rest of her family in Erlenberg, Ayax joined our little group.”
Ginger blinked, hard. “And you’re all together because you’re friends?”
“Yeah. We trust each other. Plus, Edana’s on the War Council and thought we’d make a good team, which I think she’s right about,” said Martin.
“There’s no… no thing going on between you or any of your buddies?” Ginger asked.
“What thing?” Martin asked, owlishly.
“I thought you had to be sleeping with each other. I mean, one handsome knight, three pretty girls. There has to be some kind of thing going on between at least a pair of you!” Ginger squawked.
Martin’s jaw dropped and shook his head, shivering. “No. Just no. I like—no, I care about them deeply, and I think they’re pretty. But they’re not my type. Besides, I suspect Elizabeth and Ayax are going to be a thing in the future and Frances has… someone else in mind.” The knight cocked his head and gazed up at the sky, shivered again, and met Ginger’s eye. “Yeah nope.”
“What is your type then?” Ginger asked.
The knight blinked and stiffened. “Um, well. I always liked more shapely women.”
As Ginger watched Martin’s eyes, it finally clicked and she grasped why the noble had come and has been so friendly all this time. It was odd, but she could finally explain it.
The only thing she could do… was to make it easier on herself.
Ginger swallowed, put her bread aside and braced herself. “If… if you wanted to sleep with me you could just order me to.”
Martin got up so quickly he knocked his empty bowl over. “Excuse me, what?”
“It’s why you’re being so nice. You like how I look, so you want to screw me. Well whatever, get it over with. I can’t say no,” Ginger muttered, reaching to unbutton her shirt.
“No that’s not what I’m here for!” Martin exclaimed, trying to keep his voice down. He leapt off the wagon and backed away. “Ginger, what in Erisdale made you think I wanted to have sex with you?”
“You like how I look, don’t you?” Ginger asked, frowning now, hands frozen at her shirt buttons. She knew she was right about how the knight looked at her. It was very different from how he’d looked at his female friends. Those looks were… brotherly, and proud. That wasn’t how he looked at her. Sometimes he seemed to be curious, and concerned, but no, he definitely liked how she looked. She’d seen similar glances directed at her by other men and women.
“Well, yes, but that doesn’t mean I would order you to—Oh shit.” Martin covered his mouth. “Someone else ordered you?”
“Well no, but someone was going to one day—Wait, you didn’t want to fuck me?” Ginger spluttered. She stared at Martin. This didn’t make any sense.
“No! You are pretty, but you don’t want me to do that to you so of course I won’t!”
“Why does it matter? You don’t have to give a damn about what I feel. I’ve had handlers who’d use the seal because I gave them backtalk.” Ginger shrugged. “Just tell me what you want already.”
“I just wanted to get to know you and see if you were alright after your outburst!” Martin groaned and grabbed his head. “Gods damn it all, it’s almost as bad as talking to Frances! Look, Ginger, we, that is myself, Frances, Elizabeth and Ayax don’t want to use this stupid seal and we think this whole mage-maked convict soldier business is despicable! Oh Gods, don’t tell me… Does every convict think the same way as you do and is just waiting for us to use it?”
Staring at Martin, Ginger walked up to him, hands by her side. “You don’t want to use the seal. Really? What a load of horse crap.”
“It’s true!”
“What if I tried to stab you, huh? What if I attacked you? What if I disobeyed an order of yours? What if we disagreed on strategy?” Ginger demanded, stalking closer to the knight, her eyes on his face, watching his bushy blonde eyebrows rise.
“We don’t punish soldiers for disagreeing. If you disobeyed or breached military law we’d discipline you according to military law,” Martin stammered.
“Easy to say that over your dead body? What if I had tied you, flat on your back. Had you at my mercy?” Ginger hissed, she stepped right into Martin’s personal space, her teeth almost bumping into his nose. She was taller than the knight after all. “What if I kissed that cute nose of yours and forced myself on you? Would you still not use the command spell then?”
Martin didn’t meet Ginger’s eyes, but somehow, whether it was his honor, or self-control, he didn’t reach for his sword. “I don’t know. I really don’t know what I would do then. What I do know…” The knight’s bright blue eyes looked up at her. “I know you wouldn’t do that. You’re a good person.”
Crazy bitch.
Evil whore.
Murderer.
Traitor.
You’re a good person.
Ginger stepped back. The feeling in her chest was back again and she didn’t like it. She liked it and didn’t like it at all. She’d felt that before, always before the worst days of her life.
“I’m not,” she hissed. “I’m the crazy murder lady, remember.”
Martin shook his head. “You killed a literal rapist. And you bet I’m telling my mom, the Magistrate of Conthwaite, about this convict soldier mage-mark insanity when I get a chance.” The knight took a deep breath and sighed. “Look, I know you don’t believe me, and I won’t ask you to trust me. So take the time you need, just… don’t stop talking and if you need more time before we get into another battle, let me know. But I’d be glad to have you helping.”
Ginger watched the knight leave, trudging off into the camp they’d set up. She stared at the short boy—no, man’s back.
She didn’t want to believe him. She didn’t want to trust him, but… despite herself, she was starting to.-
Author's Note: So yeah, Ginger's had it rough. I know having convicts with some kind of magic seal is common in other stories, but I can't unsee the amount of potential for abuse here so, there.
Question of the update: If Fractured Song was to become a published book, what medium would you get it in? E book? Paperback? Hardback? Also, who'd you love to be on the cover? Obviously Frances, but who else?

Yeah. You heard Me. Now, Before I get started, this will be very straight up like never before. This type of knowledge you never heard but NEED.
The girl that you are going after and chasing, you wanna know something? She has many other Men chasing her. Yes! Even below average looking women are getting chased by numerous men and getting that attention. But you think oh "she smiled at me" so she cares about me. Lool. Nah bro. She smiled at you out of generosity. She doesn't give a crap about you. Why? She has many, many other men chasing her, in which she will chose the most high value man she can get. The top 5 percent of men in looks, status and wealth.
But you? What do you think? I have to have good "personality" and be a "good" boy and then flocks of women will chase me. How's that working for you? Lool. That's far from the truth. Women biologically go for the top 5 percent Men only. Yes. This is just the harsh truth.
Women don't want religious Men. Trust me. I've seen it all. You know these women's religious standards? For many women as long as the guy doesn't eat "pork" then she'll marry him. Like ..... . That shouldn't even be a question, it's like a bare minimum, but these women don't want you guy's. This is just a sad reality. They want you way after, when you beta buxx maxx and then have a that "lifelong" comfortable income.
But you? You guys will keep simping, and "hoping" 1 day, she will say Yes! No. Just walk away. It's not worth it. Remember, if a girl really likes you, she will go out of the way and try to please you. But these days that simply doesn't exist for 95 percent of Men. You guys will only be "coping". Don't live in the hope strategy my friends, It will only keep you in the dark.
Remember, the women who complain that guys "sleep" around as well, They are complaining about the top 5 percent of men, who sleep around, which they want and crave. They forget that 95 percent of Men aren't getting anything. My friends just remember this. The bare minimum to get married these days for Men is the triple 6. 6 ft height, 6 figures, and the else yk what. Then you need high social status and all these things, which only top 5 percent of men can achieve. Not everyone. So you guys just stop coping. Wake up. Live in reality. Good women are very rare. Prophet Muhammad pbuh warned us as well.
Amr ibn al-‘Aas (may Allah be pleased with him) said, “Whilst we were with the Messenger of Allah (peace and blessings be upon him) on this mountain path, he said, “Look, can you see anything?” We said, “We see crows, and one of them stands out because its beak and feet are red”. The Messenger of Allaah (saw) said, “No women will enter Paradise except those who are as rare among them as this crow is among the others”” [Ahmad, Sahih according to Albani in Silsilat al-Hadith as-Saheehah, 4/466, no. 1851]
And you guys still simping? Damn. Personally for me, I know the game so well, that it doesn't even matter to me anymore. When you realize the true female nature, any women I come across, I can just predict them very easily. It's all the same. Many are lowkey feminists, socialists, with no knowledge regarding Deen, and lowkey all want Tyrone and want him to put her in her place, while she will still "fight" for "equality" and womens rights, yet they are hypocrites, and in the end want Dr Kareem to save them, with his good "personality" and "lifelong" comfortable income. Just remember 1 thing. The more of a feminist she is, the more she want to get degraded. Not by you. But by the top 5 percent of Men. This is the legit studies. Not Me. Hybristophilia, it's called and legit studies have been done on this about why, how and all. It all makes sense now.
So guys, now this was the real talk. Which your father or I bet even a good friend never gave you. The point is gentlemen, do your due diligence. You saw that rare women Hadith? There are way more good men vs good women. I've seen this in Uni and even in my Madrassas. Many Muslim Men will be with their gazes down, while she wanting the attention of Tyrone. Of course their are some very good, pious, based women out there. No doubt. But I'm stating the majority.
When you see it, experience it and witness it around you, personally you can't take women seriously anymore. I do my own thing, and keep interactions limited and I just leave and never look back. You guys should set higher standards and marry only, if you come across a women that will agree with your views 110 percent. Otherwise, it's not worth it. You don't want some so called based women, who is lowkey a socialist, with feminist liberal ideologies with crazy fantasies and no knowledge of Deen, but you fell for her blindly. Set your standards higher. That's all I have to say to you.

I avoided Vegas for all of 2020, not because I have any fears whatsoever regarding COVID, but simply because I felt that it was just going to be depressing and annoying combatting the virus hysteria. (Following the Vegas sub didn't help, as those folks pounce on anyone considering visiting as being selfish, despite tourism being the town's only export.)
I was pleasantly surprised that the Strip wasn't as post-apocalyptic as I was expecting. There still appear to be plenty of people visiting... the crowds weren't as thick as they normally would be, which some would say is a plus, but there also wasn't a dearth of people, either.
I was comped at both Caesars and MLife, so I booked at both. I stayed at the Paris and stuck my friend at the Grand. FWIW, the $20 trick worked at Paris (I figured it was an especially good play when the staff's income has taken a hit), and I was upgraded to a corner suite overlooking the Bellagio Fountains.
Onto the craps play... Sunday through MLK at noon, we failed to find anything below $15. I submitted my edits to the minimums spreadsheet that is stickied here. Oddly, Linq and Park MGM just did not open any tables at all... I'm not sure what the rationale is for that. We decided to stick mostly with Caesars properties, as they don't have Plexiglas dividers at the tables. All MGM properties have these, and it makes the casino look like a house of mirrors.
I had brought a $1k bankroll, but bought in for $300 each time...I tend to be very frugal, even while gambling. My strategy was to play the pass line, place the 6/8 for $12 each, and take 1x odds for 4/6/8/10. (I hate taking odds on 5/9.) After a place number hit 3 times, I would press on the 4th hit. That was usually a great way for the next roll to be an SO.
MLK afternoon at Paris I did "OK," but the recently lowered $10 minimum was raised back to $15 again. This depleted my bankroll faster than I expected, but I guess it makes sense, as my strategy went from costing me $44 to $66 per swing. There were a lot of PSOs, too. For reasons I can't understand, my friend and I could never get a good roll going, but there were two shooters at our table that we knew we could count on for recovery. I don't know how that is - the dice are the dice - but these two guys could always go on heaters for a long time. The dice would be passed to us, and after a few 2s and 3s, we'd PSO. After some ups and downs, I finally walked away with $250.
MLK evening, after some Beef Wellington at Gordon Ramsay Steak, the table was back to $10 again, and had no players, so my friend and I opened it. As with the above, our rolls were miserable. PSO after PSO. Other players would come and go, seeing how bad the game was going. I tried to switch to the DP when my friend rolled ("nothing personal"), and then he'd magically start making points. It was awful. I finally got down to my last $10, and bet the line with him, and he caught his second wind. Gradually brought me back to $292, and we colored up at 1am.
Although Paris doesn't have table dividers, they insisted on sanitizing the dice between shooters. Even when it was just my buddy and I, and I said we were in the same party, it wasn't necessary, they responded "well, it's for our safety." I bought that for a few minutes until I realized they hardly touch the dice, yet they don't mind grabbing everybody's chips that are getting intermixed with different people's germs.... whatever, it's all stupid theatre.
Tuesday afternoon, my friend headed back to Phoenix and I was waiting for a late flight. I stumbled upon a $10 table at Aria, and since it was just me, I decided to deal with the Plexiglas (which turned out to be wildly ineffective when I could still fist bump and talk to the player immediately left-of-stick from my catty-corner of the table, 3 feet away). My bad luck shooting dissipated. I hit several good rolls, and since it was my last day, I decided to loosen the wallet a bit, and would go up to 3x odds, particularly on 4s and 10s since they pay 2:1. I would also press 6s and 8s, which I had a real affinity for hitting, earlier than customary for me. (This probably still sounds like low rolling to many of you, but it's a big step for me!) I ended up more than doubling my buy-in, negating my losses from the other two sessions and putting me up slightly on the trip.
MGM has two sets of dice they can rotate between, and one goes in a golf ball washer while the other is in play. This seemed a lot smarter and didn't affect the game's momentum as much as Paris did, scrubbing them down with a ratty cheesecloth and diluted Clorox.
I still had 4 hours until my flight, which was bittersweet, but I'm glad I colored up when I got off of a good high shooting. It felt good, actually, that other players were disappointed that I was leaving, because I was making them some good money, but it was time for me to step back and enjoy my winnings. I bought my kiddo a T-shirt at the ABC store, waited an hour for the Centennial Express (told you I was frugal), and sat in The Club LAS until my flight boarded.
Both MGM and Caesars sent me e-mails asking me to book another complimentary trip before either room's folio arrived. I'm considering it.

Parts 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 and 7 for context.

Ritual of initiation

Cleansing the worms proceeded without much casualties. Agent injuries were minor.
Rose: "The work of divine punishment has been apreciated by my very eyes" Justin: "I don't know what you just said but i agree" Bella: "To think we will have to do this soon..."
Onorio, Camille and Alyssia enter the room.
Camille: "¿Did you see us?" Justin: "¡Hell yeah we did!" Bella: "It was an amazing sight, i wish i can become like you" Onorio: "Give it time, in a few days you will be working side by side with us"
He gives a thumbs up.
Justin: "I took a lot of notes, especially the way Alyssia double-taps Abnormalities' corpses" Camille: "Ah, that, it's not much for that reason but more because she gets a kick out of it" Alyssia: "I call it stress relief"
Aoi and Dia came after checking no more worms were running around in the corridors below.
Dia: "¡Wassup mah frendos!" Rose: "She seems happy" Justin: "Oh, so you CAN speak normally" Aoi: "She's beginning to enjoy crushing vermin. And to be honest im starting to feel the same way too"
Belle looks at Onorio who had a bleeding scrath on his face that suddenly healed.
Belle: "¿How did you do that? ¿Was that your E.G.O.'s doing?" Onorio: "¿Healing? No, it's the regenerator working up there"
As he said that, he pointed upwards with his mace to a strange machine similar to a flat difusor stuck in the ceiling.
Justin: "¿How does it work?" Aoi: "No idea, we can ask the manager later" Belle: "¿¡You can speak with the manager?! Aoi: "Everybody can, we meet at the end of the day and we can make suggestions to improve work" Justin: "But that can't be, they told us in training speaking with the manager is... well, almost impossible for many reasons. ¿Why would HQ's manager do this?"
Alyssia comes from behind after gulping a soda can from the new vending machine.
Alyssia: "Exactly that, this is HQ, we do things differently. Comunication is very important here so everyone works together to avoid agent deaths"
As she finished talking, Alyssia crushed the can and threw it behind her. Some clerks hastily picked it up. She smirks as she listens them clean after her.
Aoi: "No agents have died so far, we are becoming the safest Lobotomy Corp facility in the region" Rose: "¿Could this be an oasis in a sieged land?" Justin: "There you go saying nonsense again"
Chitter chatter was good, but we haven't reached the quota yet. As much as i hate it i must interfere.
"As much as i would like to give you more time to talk, we must get to work now. Keep your conversation topics for the post-shift meeting"
Everyone remained in the control room as the newbies trained and the enkephalin boxes grew. Once the amount of boxes reached the target amount, all work was finished.
As is costumary, i went outside to meet with everyone.
I don't know what The Elite has told Bella, Rose and Justin but the three are apart form the rest of the group. The new additions are in front of the older employees, uptight and with a determined expression, as if presenting themselves for inspection.
I don't know what to do in this situation.
I: "Welc-" Justin: "¡It's an honor to be in your presence Sir!" Belle: "¡You interrupted him you idiot! Please manager forgive our us, we will do better next time, please" I: "Cool your jets guys, i just want to greet you"
I look at the control team who were standing behind them, they looked as if they were scoring in their minds the performance the rookies did before me. I couldn't discern any expression on their faces.
This was very creepy to say the least.
Rose: "Unclean souls, both of you"
Rose was shaking her head in dissaproval.
I: "As i was saying, welcome to the Corp, i hope we can get along. Rose: "It's a pleasure to make your acquaitance. I am Rose"
Justin and Belle looked at her in surprise, she seemed like other person entirely.
Belle: "My name is Belle, im very happy to be working for on of the Wings" Justin: "I am Justin, i am sorry for earlier. Im glad i can be of any use in HQ, i want to learn a lot of things from my stay here"
I liked these new workers. That said, i had some questions.
I: "¿What are you guys doing being apart like this?" Aoi: "We don't want to be in the way of the test" I: "¿What test?" Dia: "The first contact test, we must not bother you in your personal judgement when the new agents do their best to present themselves to you, the first impressions"
So that's what it was. They told the information team to show their best selves and let me judge what i would do with them. ¿What kind of idea do they have i judge my agents off? This reeks of cult practice, an initiation test to see if they are worthy.
Cut me some slack guys. Please.
I: "Everyone has done a good work today. Elite, you guys did a fantastic work with the cleansing"
The control team beamed at me with their smiles.
I: "And you guys, information team, also did really well. ¿Do you have abetter idea of how we do work here?"
After receiving a compliment they lifted their spirits and relaxed.
Bella: "It was an amazing first day at work Sir" Justin: "I learned a lot, i hope tomorrow we can do even more" I: "That's the spirit. Tomorrow you will work with Void Dream yourselves while the control team figures out how the new abnormality must be dealt with"
The control team seems to have done their "scoring" and joined us. We talked about trivial stuff before we parted ways.
I: "Before i forget, tomorrow i'll deal you some of the new guidelines for the control department Abnormalities. Information team tell me what you think so we can improve it over time" Rose: "Definitely, we'll hand our opinions and ideas in a document when ready" Justin: "Hey Rose, you should talk this clear more often, ¿y'know?
I left everyone and went home for real this time.
Same home, same things. I tought i would have done more things with my salary by now but im just too lazy to change or lack any real ambition. Now however i always order food, so that's that i guess.

Second week, day 2: The dance of the nails

When i opened the door of the manager's room i saw Angela waiting for me.
Angela: "As you know, there are a lot of employees working for the company" I: "No way, i would have never figured that out"
She glances at me as if saying "Don't come at me with sarcasm".
Angela: "Most of them want to know more about you"
I can see where this is going.
Angela: "Some will show intitiative and aproach you first. However this has been one of the few times the contrary has been true, where the manager aproaches the employees first" I: "I take pride in my way of doing things, i am now the HR supervisor too" Angela: "They are not aproaching because they want to "befriend" you. It's funny, really, they think knowing you in person will improve their odds" I: "I can't speak for all of them as i don't know them completely, but i honestly think they are very dedicated to the corporation" Angela: "Listen manager, there are no regulations that prevent you from interacting with them in person, it seems the one who made the rules didn't consider situations like this" I: "And it shouldn't be prevented either" Angela: "I understand how you feel, it is a good opportunity to show them that you care, words travel faster than you might think. I am not going to stop someone from reaching you, but you don't have to do everything they want. Just thank them for their effort and tell them you wish they would keep up the good work. ¿Are you following me? What they need is a gesture of good will, nothing more. Don't go overboard" I: "¿Why are you so opposed to me reaching out to my agents? The energy production has been splendid, my agents are top-notch. There is nothing you should lecture me about in this regard. ¿Are you done?" Angela: "Im warning you, give them a vending machine and they will demand a bar, i expect you to make the right decision" I: "Sure thing Angela"
Angela stays silent for a moment and speaks again after a sigh.
Angela: "I am not your enemy, i am here to help you. Let's make some thing clear. The energy output is increasing, i know that very well. You have proved everyone and even yourself that you are capable and the high echelon is watching you. 'A', the founder, is among them.
That guy, huh. I need to talk to that person to ask him some things.
As if she read my mind, she continued:
Angela: "¿Do you know anything about 'A'? He is a visionary. He may want to see you in person soon, if that happens, you can make your dreams come true. I: "He sounds more of a fairy-tale urban-legend kind of guy judging by what you just said" Angela: "I'm being serious here" I: "You sure look up to him" Angela: "¿Me? of course, i admire him. To be fair, he is the creator of me" I: "No wonder you paint him as a wish-granter savior" Angela: "He is also enigmatic. Only a few would understand him. In fact, understanding someone is difficult. ¿Will the day come i understand you completely?"
After saying that she left again. ¿Why does she do this everytime we discuss about something? She ends the conversation saying something "deep" and runs away to do other things.
Now i needed to meet with Yesod, at least he shares my vision about manager-employee relationships ¿right? He seemed cool the other day i met him.
I go to the control room and there he was.
Yesod: "Manager, you represent the company. I think your outfit is not up to company standard" I: "¡Oh hey Yesod! ¡Nice to meet you too! My gods i bet you are the life of the party wherever you go" Yesod: "Im only a Sephira, so i can't do anything about it, just saying" I: "¿And why should i listen about fashion standards from a closeted emo? Look at yourself" Yesod: "I see you can't see things clearly yet" I: "Im just ranting because you are being too negative for starters. Honestly i am just dressing with the suit the company gave me, if you give me tips about dressing code i am willing to listen. So let's start again and forget about all this"
I said this with a smile on my face, i don't want to make the middle management angry. Yesod takes some air before giving it another try.
Yesod: "I am Yesod, the Sephira of the information team. I am in charge of processing and archiving all the data of the company. We need to concentrate and focus on our job all the time. Like the curators of a library. A single mistake from us could cause a disaster. I am sure you'd understand the gravity of my work."
I: "It must be a lot of pressure on your shoulders"
Yesod: "It is, every bit of data we have... cost us blood and lives. You should show some respect"
I: "¡Hey closeted emo, im literally saving people's lives with my efforts, why don't YOU show some respect!
Yesod: "..."
I: "That's right, i tought i said we would start this conversation better ¿right? Let's change the topic then. ¿Why tell me to dress better when you are... dressed up like that?
Yesod: "I am a little allergic to... revealing clothes"
I: "¿For real? It can't be that bad.
Yesod: "I hate revealing clothes. I don't know why or since when though. Probably before i got into the company."
I tought Yesod would be more reasonable than Angela or Malkuth, but his whole being screams "Issue". I wonder if he was like this before he got here or if this place changed him for the worse.
suddenly a Sephirai knew but never met before in person showed up.
Netzach: "Yesod, ¿Do you have some paper?"
Yesod: "Netzach, you know the rules, we are not supposed to trade stuff between teams"
That sounds like a stupid rule. I may change that in the future.
Netzach: "Pfft, Yesod the Viper is not in a good mood"
Yesod: "..."
Netzach: "I am leaving ¿ok?"
Yesod: "¿Why, is this entertaining to you?"
Oh please, dont tell me the Sephiras have quarrels between themselves too.
Yesod: "My apologies, i... overreacted a bit. Other Spehiras are making fun of me, but i know employees hate me. I know my nickname is not a positive one. But i like it, i earned it on purpose. I tells others who i am.
I: "So you ARE a closeted emo"
Yesod: " ¿What do you think of my nickname?"
I: "closeted emo suits you better"
Yesod: " Well, i like Viper anyway. I should go now"
And like that he left. I hastened my pace in leaving all the new documents and guidelines in all the main rooms.
Now that the problematic guys had been dealt with, i could focus my attention in guiding people who are actually doing their best and are nice to talk to.
As always, the Elite came first. Aoi, Dia and Onorio were level 3 agents right now, that means they had become valuable assets not only for my facility but for any they could be tranfered to. Level 3 agents were not something you would find everyday.
Camille and Alyssia were level 2, good all rounders who could tank work with most TETH class Abnormalities.
The information team came a bit later. They were only level 1, fresh meat in the meatgrinder. Or that is what they are considered anyways.
By the way, i gave the Information Team E.G.O. gear this time. Belle is the stringest rookie right now and a good contender for Information team captain so i gave her Herts gear, the other two got Void Dream's suit. Weapons also got a change of hands. Penitence (skull's weapon) are now in the hands of the rookies so the higher damage weapons are in hands of people who could wield them better.
Camille: "Nice going yesterday with the manager, you are now manager aproved members of HQ"
¿What are these guys talking about?
Bella: "I was really nervous, but you guys were right. I heard about the amount of death L.Corp facilites had but knowing i am more valuable alive than dead and there is someone moving things aorund to keep us safe is reassuring"
She must meant that speech i did that day. Angela was right, words DO travel really fast.
Justin: "I didn't know the manager does secret tests when he sends us to work to see if we are worthy of our position as employees of HQ. You guys have helped us a lot with your advice"
¿What? ¿Who came up with that nonsense?
Onorio: "When he sends you to confess to the floating skull, it's to see your honesty, to know you won't keep secrets from us, from him"
¡No! ¡Stop coming up with things that are not true!
Camille: "He trains us with work not only to generate energy, not only to fortify our physical and mental virtues, but also to makes us grow spiritually and as individuals"
¡NOOO! ¡Im just training you so you don't die when the dusk ordeal comes!
Rose: "We are now brothers and sisters in this facility, agents who share the same blood" Aoi: "That's exactly right, we will save the world with our energy production" Dia: "I knew the training textbooks were right"
¡¡STOP MAKING STUFF UUUUUUUP!!
Stupid 'A' and his stupid textbooks, im gonna give him a word or two about this crap for real when he comes down from his "upper echellon" nonsense.
Aoi: "It's time to perform the ceremony"
Oh no.
The information team handed Aoi their maces and kneeled down before the Elite.
Aoi: "As the former wielders of this purifying weapon, we are honored to cede them to you. Shall the victories and glory we experienced with these maces accompany you like it did with us"
As she said that, Aoi, Dia and Onorio gave the maces to Bella, Rose and Justin, who were still kneeling but with their arms reaching above, waiting to feel the weight of the weapon.
As they did, Aoi said: "The ceremony is completed" and everyone went to their natural positions as if nothing had happened.
¿How did things go from some employees wishing to do their best at work to a freaking cult?
Onorio brought a spanish deck of cards and they were playing an adapted version of poker in the control room. It was not yet the time to start the shift.
Aoi: "Check this out, these are the new guidelines for One sin and hundreds of good deeds, 1.76 MHz and Opened can of Wellcheers"
Everyone starts reading the new guidelines.
Aoi: "Seems someone won't have fun after performing work with the Static room" Alyssia: "¡Cmon! ¡Beating things up after working with it was my favourite thign to do!" Dia: "¿What does it mean to not rush work with Wellcheers?" Camille: "Be honest, you loved working with those shrimps, you always say out of work "oh man, i love the soda of Wellcheers" all the time" Dia: "It's not that much..." Aoi: "You get along too much with those shrimp people, this may be a callout to you" Dia: "Shut up" Justin: "¿What does forbidden mean in this case? Rose: "I guess it means we can't work on that even if it's technically possible" Alyssa: "I don't know man, i still think it's too overcomplicated" Justin: "I think is useful" Onorio: "Shifts about to start guys"
After that everyone went to their respective departments except Aoi, who was sent below to make the first work with the new Abno.
On the way there, Belle, Rose and Justin were inspecting with eyes full of illusion their new weapons. Aoi looked at them like a proud superior.
Above, knowing they weren't expected to work until an Ordeal happened, Onorio, Dia, Camille and Alyssa kept playing cards.
Aoi enters the Abnormality's chamber to perform Instinct work.
The room is darker than normal, she squints her eyes. Below her there are lots of small spiders running around. Above, a giant bud with many eyes lays dormant.
Aoi: "Creepy"
Aoi moves around trying very carefully to not squash any spider walking below, some start climbing on her and make their way up.
Aoi: *deep breath* "It's okay"
Since she is performing instinct work, she orders a jar of dead insects, which is warped in front on her.
The rest of the work is spent with her feeding the spiders and trying not to crush any of them. Before leaving, she checks her clothes to not carry any of them with her.
Bella: "¿How's it?" Aoi: "very creepy, it's all spiders" Bella: "You are kidding me" Aoi: "I wish i was"
After confirming Instinct work was better and that none of my employees had level 1 prudence, i called Aoi up.
"That's all the work i need you to do for now, now is the time for the Information team to work"
She went up and joined the card game with the others.
Work went excellent the rest of the day. All of them were well prepared.

Ordeal: Dawn of Violet

The warning came up and i inmediatly notified all agents. This was a new, unseen ordeal for me so my strategy was to band everyone together and then take decisions based on what spawned.
Suddenly, weird purple maggots with scriptures written on tablets embeded on their bodies warped inside the facility.
Clerks were both losing sanity and getting black scarrs on their skin.
"Black damage..."
This was my first time confronting this danger.
"Yesod installed a G.O Visualization which lets me see the geometric biometric information of both Abnormalities and employees. These enemies are TETH level so if you all go together you can eliminate them pretty easy"
My reasoning was that if they dealt damage, then they couldn't cause a breach.
Just when the control room was cleansed from the maggots a "BOOM" resounds trought the halls. And then the unison of screams from all the panicked clerks from below.
Dia: "¿What was that?"
First warning banger starts to play trought the speakers.
Camille: "A breach"
Crap, this is the first time i dealt with a real breach, a living entity running aorund the halls, not like the static propagation which took place past week. My heart started to pump faster.
I should have let the sheep go around and avoid the lights, waiting for it's eventual return to the chamber, but i was nervous because at that time i didn't know i could wake up sleeping employees.
So, the whole gang went there.
They warped below trough the elevator and found the sheep right there, face to face.
Supression started inmediatly.
-Aftertoughts-
Sup, I hope you are having a good day/afternoon/night. Today i bring you a big chapter. In part because i felt i presented you very few content these past days, in part because i felt bad by letting you know i may not update tomorrow or even the next day, in part because i just felt like writting a lot.
Again, i apologize for any typos you may find.
I felt very inspired today, i got many big ideas for this series, but im still undecided.
¿Want to know what i listen to while i write? Probably not, but if you are one of the few that are curious about these things, i'll leave you a link here for some of them: Webcore 1 and Webcore 2. Also some episodes of The Twilight Zone.
¡I hope you enjoyed this episode too! ¡I love this game, a love this community and i love you all!
PD: While i was writting before i mistakenly published this chapter unfinished. i quickly erased it but i apologize if this has caused any issue.