“Y’know what? All this thinkin’s hurting my brain. Let’s just head to town,” Dick said, closing his status screen.
“SAY WHAAAAAAAAAAAT?” Greg and God replied in unison.
“Just hang on a moment,” God said. “You can’t just look at a juicy Elongation screen like that only to close it and file it away for later! That’s unfair, man! People hate it when that kind of shit happens!”
“Nah,” Dick replied, tapping his head. “Keeps them on the edge of their seats.”
“That’s… some heavy shit, man,” God said.
“Tell me about it,” Greg replied deflatedly. “At least you get to pop your head in whenever you feel like it. I have to deal with this on a daily basis, y’know?”
“Well, at least he avoided the cliche LitRPG tropes,” God remarked.
“True, he did. Every player worth their salt would’ve gone with Johnny Cash. Not even any downsides to that one. Just legendary. Besides, who wouldn’t want to be associated with that badass?”
“Ikr? Welp, as he said, we’ll be hyped for when he does choose. Will he suddenly whip out his menu in a time of crisis and select his option? Or will he keep us waiting, baiting us to pay him money for look ahead chapters with the promise of power progression? Find out next time on—Oh, would you look at that! Break time’s over. Back to Morrowind.”
“Is playing games literally all you do?” Greg asked.
“Uh, no? Cringe AF. I take breaks. I eat. I don’t shit because god doesn’t shit. But yeah. Life’s hard, man.”
“Y’know? That explains a lot of things, actually,” Greg said, as if learning a secret about why the world was so fucked up.
“Tootaloo! Hasta La Vista home dawgs! Catchya later gator! I’m like water and you’re like glue. Anything you say bounces off of me and sticks to you!~~”
Greg blinked at god.
“Eh. It’s all the rage with kids these days,” god said before disappearing.
“So, god’s a snooping pedo, huh? Didn’t take him for that sort,” Dick said.
“Let’s uh… let’s just pretend we never heard that, alright? I don’t think either of us want to bear those scars.”
“Agreed,” Dick said, walking along the dirt road that bisected endless golden plains. Their destination was the town of Rizz, a place of Rizzly desires. There, Dick hoped to rebuild his sect after their tragic demise. Which wasn’t his fault. At all.
“Be honest. You just want to rebuild your sect for the money!” Greg said with an accusing frown of his cartoon eyebrows.
“Well, yeah. Why else?”
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“That was surprisingly honest.”
“An American never lies.”
“About that,” Greg said, whooshing in front of Dick, nearly tripping him, “what town were you born in?”
“The Alamo, Texas. Most patriotic place in the nation,” Dick said, wiping a tear from his eye.
“Why are you crying!?”
“It’s just… when I think of the sacrifice. Of the courage of my forefathers… Well, it moves a man, you know? Bless the souls of the patriots who perished there.”
“Ooookay mister uh… Hold up. If a siscon’s someone with a sister complex, and a lolicon is a pedo like god, then what’s someone with a patriotism complex?”
“American.”
“Yep. Shoulda guessed. Anyway, the Alamo’s a building, Dick, not a town. And I’m pretty sure it’s been turned into a tourist attraction. Anyway, I… have no memory of my mother. I mean, I dunno where I was born. God just created me out of thin air one day.”
Skill [Walking] has leveled up! [Walking] lvl 6. + 74 EXP
“Is it just me, or am I getting faster?”
“That is literally what the [Walking] skill does, Dick. At level 6, you’re moving 6% faster than normal.”
“Damn. Wait, does that mean I can walk as fast as an A-10 Thunderbolt when it’s raining BRRRT on terrorists?”
“That’s… quite the analogy, but no. God had to put a level cap in when someone reached [Walking] level 420,069. Guy moved so fast, he literally destroyed the ground. Killed millions of people. Tragic, but quite hilarious, actually. Highest level [Walking] can get to is now just 9001.”
“Why 9001?”
“Because…. IT’S OVER NINE THOUSAAAAAAND!”
“Makes sense. Anyway, you wouldn’t like the Alamo. It’s a good place, full of honest, hardworking folk. You wouldn’t fit.”
“Hey!”
“It’s a glorious land where everyone carries a revolver at their hip and a rocket launcher on their back. Back in the day, Martin Luther King always said that an armed society’s a polite society. It’s the truth! No crime in the Alamo.”
“Sounds utopian, tbh,” Greg replied, moping. They’d just crossed from the plains into a forest, making for a tranquil setting, with plenty of [Venison] frollicking around along with their [Pork] brethren. “Wish I’d had people I could relate to. It’s a bit lonely being a floating gold star y’know? With god as my only companion. And you’ve seen how he is.”
“Greg, you’re pointy and cartoonish, but I consider you among my friends. Friend.”
“That’s… why, that’s so touching, Dick! You’re the first friend I’ve ever—”
“Oh shit!” God said, popping his head in. This time, he wore massive gold shades and a gold necklace. “Forgot to Rizz you on over! Happy Rizzin’! Say high to the Rizzenator for me, will ya?”
“The heck was he on about?” Dick asked. “My country didn’t invent English to be butchered like that!”
“Dick, the English invented English. You can tell because they share the same name. Egomaniacs, amirite? You’re not an egomaniac—oh wait, you totally are.”
“Damn straight, son!”
“So, here we are! Suddenly and magically transported to the town of Rizz! Wait. This isn’t Rizz. Where are we?”
Distracted by his latest rpg build, God had fucked up. Instead of putting them at the town entrance, he’d instead put them at the entrance of the Rizzly Forest.
And, staring them right in the eye was none other than the Rizzly Forest’s alpha inhabitant. The [Rizzly Bear].