For the next two days I sustained myself on the two pieces of food that I got with the premade deck and used all my energies on playing absurd card games with a murderous robotic jackal.

I should have listened to mom when she told me to go and study to be an attorney, accountant or successful narco-chemist.

I amassed enough GBP to acquire 8 packs, and after doing so, I forced Blacky to lead me to the Data Centrer.

“What are you going to check today, master?” Blacky asked, still inside his card, humming Marolio’s jingle.

I made my way to the main screen while speaking. “For a particular niche of Player’s market. If there is one for non-card goodies, I could get unpopular food for cheap. Like, sure, steaks and French fries would go for a premium, but that slop I ate yesterday? I bet most would sell it if not in dire need. In addition, some of these people are bound to have these… rooms you talked me about. Restaurants and such. Some must be reselling the products of their restaurant for gains. Lastly, I want to check if there is a waifu market, so I can sell the girls into possibly-sexual slavery instead of feeding them to a card-eating Labrador.”

Blacky’s head popped out of the card “One of those sentences was not like the others, Mauro.”

“I cannot keep the girls, and I am not going to euthanize them via muncher! They have no souls, Blacky: this is their only life and it would a heinous crime to end their existence knowing so. I prefer selling or even giving them away and hope the new owner is loving and caring. Like puppies.”

Blacky introduced his head back in the card and, after a second, came out with a changed identity: He was now Glocky. “Say the puppy thing again, Master.”

“Why do you have a Glock inside your card and how do you pull the trigger while holding it in your mouth?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. I was more confused than scared.

“I use the tongue.” He said without moving his lips. I guess he always communicated via some sort off telepathy and the mouth movements were merely theatrical. “Say the puppy thing again, I want to shoot you.”

“No. I am biased against being shot.”

Blacky pulled his head back into the card and came back out with a pointy knife. “What about stabbings.”

“I am murderist at a personal level. Bigoted against being murdered.”

“I am contractually obligated to let you know I do have a Twitter account and I am allowed to cancel you.”

I considered joking about him bringing back the gun and shooting me, but, this being Blacky, that would mean a very dead Mauro. “Why do you want to kill me, anyway?”

“I get a few days off for mourning if I do,” he deadpanned.

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

“I see now why you were thrown into the group of the lazy ones in the guide.”

Without further ado, I flipped Blacky’s card and made the search I had been waiting for: Goddess Nudes.

The results showed up, and, beholding them, my eyes began melting, my mind shutting down, and I died.

Or that’s what Blacky said would have happened if I had searched for that, because I never did. I searched for a Player’s market.

Dozens of windows popped up in the screen, some different niches of the market. Including a companion one.

“Hey Blacky, why didn’t you tell me I could buy skins to customize you?”

“Because I’d prefer to not be forced to maul you, master.”

“I am stuffing you into a ballet tutu as soon as I am fiscally solvent.”

“I am friends with several homophobic pit bulls called Princess.”

I scratched my cheek. “All of them called Princess?”

“The breed standard for the American Pit Bull Terrier only accepts the following names: Princess, Luna, Ace, Rocky, Nala or Diesel.”

“I met a guy with a Pibble called Voltímetro.”

Blacky blinked, returned to the interior of his card and came out holding a live grenade on his jaw. “You forced my paw.”

I took his card, stamped it against the floor face down and stepped upon it, making sure to keep it like that. I checked my inexistent wristwqatch as I waited for seconds to passs. Then, I heard the explosion and felt a little pounding on the sole of my shoes. I stepped off, peeled the card out the floor, noticing the black square and the pieces of shrapnel and left the card to a side , waiting for Blacky to respawn as I browsed the Market.

A window popped up while I checked the prices of several appliances I knew I wouldn’t need, meaning I could cash them out to get more and better cards. The image depicted a dog skeleton ablaze, its flaming skull staring into the camera. It had a caption that read: “Hot bitches in your area”.

I closed the, let’s call it, ad, and kept browsing the furniture and appliances market. I needed a proper bed. With cover. And also some things like a fridge, fridges are good for stuffing food and love interests. And I could use a way to get rid of useless implements, like a clothes drier. And…

I found myself looking at cards again. I am a man, I have weaknesses. While others lusted for the bountiful assets of cowgirls, my desires were more of the spirt than of the flesh. I needed expensive cards that did stupidly complex things. I needed the power to easily wipe a board and make my opponents suffer. I wanted to go against a small girl with a deck full of Lassie impersonators and destroy her innocence by playing the most disruptive deck in existence while .

Blacky popped out of his card again. “Master, quickly, we must go!”

“Why?”

“The hot bitches in your area warning!” Blacky babbled.

“This is just a parody of porn ads, Blacky blackito. There is nothing to fear.”

I heard the tip tap of paws coming down the halls. Instinctively, with a speed nearing that of light, closed twenty windows as if they were showing inadequate things. “Wait, I should be fearing for my life I guess.”

“You should, Master.”

Outside the doorframe of the data centrer the orange hue of the flaming bitches could be seen. “Any suggestions?”

“I am sure you can outrun them,. Master, you have two legs and they have four. You evolved to walk straight and they for speed and maneuverability. You have lungs, they have eternal, untiring fire burning inside their chests. I am positive this is a good idea,” Blacky deadpanned.

“You seriously want me dead. Let me get into your card.”

“That’s a violation of the C.o.C.K.” Blacky spat with a straight schnauzer face.

The tip taps were getting closer.

“Okay, get out and fight the fire hounds while I run?”

Blacky’s card light went out. The artwork became… hairy.

“Are you pressing your ass against it? Come on Blacky, you have a whole arsenal in there!”I whisper shouted. “Can you at least give me a weapon to defend myself?”

Blacky got his head out of the card, gave me a wink and went back into it. It seemed it was time to fight for my soul. And to get a washing machine for my pants and undies.