Work Text:
You open the fridge standing tall in your shitty cabin kitchen. Empty bags of chips and crushed soda cans are strewn about the counters. The stove top is covered in what can generously be described as inedible green residue. A failed experiment from combining a dozen eggs and three bottles of Mountain Dew in a skillet. You believe today that you might be able to perfect this bodacious recipe. You’re in the fridge trying to find a new carton of eggs for your home cooking when you realize something horrifying, the fridge is completely empty.
Your name is DAVEPETA ENGLISH and you are out of EGGS.
From behind your sick shades you scan the kitchen for any spare eggs you may have left out overnight. You didn’t want to use day old eggs but if push came to shove it was better than being eggless. Sadly all you manage to find is trash, several gallons of Mountain Dew, a copious amount of guns, your spare wifebeater, and at least three raccoons living in your cabinets. You step out into the living room, hoping desperately that your yolky desires can be realized. No eggs have been seen in the living room but knowing your moirail they could be anywhere in the house. Sometimes he will do various things to inconvenience you on account of his raging misogyny towards the small percentage of you that is made up of a female. He loves to flaunt that no part of him is made up of any nasty femoids. Some days you fantasize about what it would be like to be 100% perfect male specimen.
After scanning the living room for the delicious white things you sadly have to admit that there are no eggs in your house. All that you find in the living room is more trash, more guns, and even more raccoons. They seem to be making a base under your couch. Taking a peak under the stained cushions you find a group of all male raccoons amassing ammunition for the hostile takeover of the kitchen. The commander turns to salute you for your misogynistic efforts. You salute back satisfied with his work.
While you were lost in the wonderful world of Raccoon Misogyny you felt the whole house shake. Your moirail must be playing Oversee 2 again. You shuffle down the stairs into his Gamer Lair. The door is about twenty feet tall so he can fit his muscular body through it every once in a fortnight he decides to leave his room. You fly your sprite ass inside his massive underground Gamer Lair and in the dark can see him in the corner. He’s sitting in his massive Gamer Chair with built in cup holders and Dorito receptacle. His buff physique is on full display in his wife beater that he always wears. A large controller is held in his massive claws as he screams into his gamer mic.
LORD ENGLISH: YOU PIECE OF SHIT.
LORD ENGLISH: WHY ARE YOU NOT HEALING ME?
LORD ENGLISH: I AM THE TANK I DESERVE TO GET ALL THE HEALS FROM THE HEAL BITCHES
LORD ENGLISH: YOU ARE PLAYING MARCY AND YET ARE NOT HEALING THE RAINHEART.
LORD ENGLISH: THIS EXPLAINS WHY YOU ARE A BRONZE TIER BABY.
From across the room you can barely hear the other side of the conversation. Something about the female Marcy player hoping this brand new sequel would be less misogynistic than its predecessor. What a silly notion that is. She reminds your moirail that he is, in fact, also a “Bronze Tier Baby.” He screams and spikes his controller on the ground causing it to disintegrate into a million little pieces. He grabs the computer and tosses it at the wall. It bounces harmlessly off the wall and into the tiled floor of the lair where the glass shatters instantly. You fly over to your amazing Moirail and shoosh pap him several times directly on his muscles. This does wonders to soothe his poor misunderstood soul. He sits his green posterior back into his flashing LED Cairo Overchair. His cueball eyes stare up into yours.
LORD ENGLISH: THANK YOU BRO.
LORD ENGLISH: THAT WHORE WAS REALLY RUINING MY AMAZING GAMEPLAY.
LORD ENGLISH: CAN YOU IMAGINE PLAYING MARCY AND NOT HEALFUCKING THE TANK INTO THE OTHER TEAM’S ASSHOLE THE ENTIRE GAME?
LORD ENGLISH: IT’S NEIGH UNTHINKABLE.
DAVEPETA: B33 < *places my hand on my purrfect meowrail’s clawsome muscles*
DAVEPETA: B33 < im sorry she was being so pawsitively awful to you
DAVEPETA: B33 < typical female behavior of blaming the purrfect male fur their shitty gameplay
LORD ENGLISH: THANK YOU DAVEPETA.
LORD ENGLISH: I GUESS I WILL KEEP PLAYING AFTER I GRAB A NEW SETUP.
LORD ENGLISH: SOMEONE NEEDS TO TEACH THESE BITCHES HOW TO PROPERLY PLAY THE GAME.
He reaches under the desk and pulls out another massive controller fit for his yaoi hands. Shortly after he pulls out another Cairo Overcomputer. You figure the controller is also a Cairo Overcontroller but you’ve never bothered to ask him.
LORD ENGLISH: WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING DOWN HERE ANYWAYS?
LORD ENGLISH: I THOUGHT YOU WERE MAKING BREAKFAST?
DAVEPETA: B33 < i was but i found a horrifying truth
DAVEPETA: B33 < we are out of eggs
LORD ENGLISH: FUCK.
DAVEPETA: B33 < my thoughts exactly bro
DAVEPETA: B33 < im mainly here to inform you that im heading to the store to troll costco to pick up some more eggs
LORD ENGLISH: HAVE FUN WITH THAT BRO.
LORD ENGLISH: PICK ME UP SOME MILK.
Your moirail is always thirsty for some grade A cow juices. You accept his offer to grab him some tasty white stuff to go with your tasty white ovals and fly out of his Gamer Lair. When you return to the surface world you see the raccoons have successfully overthrown the females of the kitchen. The females have been kicked to the curb and the commander stands proudly in the trash. You give him a claw five before proceeding to burst out of your front door. Piles of trash are finally freed from their prison and spill onto your lawn. Poor Geoffrey the Lawn Flamingo stands strong in the waves of garbage. Stay strong soldier.
You fly high into the sky above the trees of your personal forest. Living out here is tough but it’s what you gotta do to protect yourself from women! Plus you’re certain your old friends and gods of this planet would not accept tall green and handsome living on their humble planet. Your eyes scan the horizon and you spot your target. Troll Costco stands tall at the edge of Troll Town, USA. You’re not sure why it’s called “Troll Town, USA” but the version of your better half in this timeline probably named it.
You fly fast and hard until you crash directly through the roof of Troll Costco. Your wings make a perfect snow angel-like formation through every floor you bust through. You bust your way all the way down to floor 36, the Meat and Dairy floor. Your eyes quickly look all around this glorious paradise until you see it. The Egg Aisle is in your clear view as you dash towards it, stopping just in time as to not smash all the scrumptious white ovals. Your claws find the most beautiful thing you’ve seen in the last three minutes, a carton of 414 eggs. A stucker’s dozen of eggs is hard to come across on a good day without the glory of Troll Costco. You’re about to go to The Milk Aisle when you spot her. A jade-blooded troll standing there perusing the several thousand bottles of milk in front of her. She was the most gorgeous troll you had ever laid your shaded eyes upon. Your wings carry themselves over to her and you say your greatest pick up line ever, a classic from Troll Rooosh Vazdeh.
DAVEPETA: B33 < girl are you skilled in the kitchen? Because i need a sandwich right now <3<
SWIFER: Excuse me what the actual fuck?
The troll girl turned to face you as you said your glorious line. Her face scrunching up into a look of utter and pure disgust as she almost drops her white liquid bottle onto the floor. You know from years of experience on the internet that this means she’s reciprocating your pitch feelings for her. You smile in your glorious success in wooing this hot dame to your side. You wonder if your moirail would accept someone new in the kitchen of your Sexism Lair.
DAVEPETA: B33 < that my dear was a banging pick up line <3<
SWIFER: Oh my Gog what the fuck who even are you?
SWIFER: Why are you wearin’ such a disgustin’ Matriarch Defiler?
DAVEPETA: B33 < oh this? its my signafur wife beater.
DAVEPETA: B33 < maybe mew could come to my place and give it a good wash <3<
SWIFER: I know my name is literally Swifer but there is no way I am washin’ your disgustin’ clothes.
SWIFER: And are you fuckin’ pitch flirtin’ with me?? Do you know how disgustin’ that is??
Was she rejecting your advances? That can’t be. Women are supposed to positively eat this shit up. She should be swooning on your arms right now saying how much she wants to clean your wife beater and make you egg sandwiches every day of her life. Typical of a female to do nothing you ever ask of her. You are certain this incident will make you worse as you will never do any form of self introspection on why you hate women this much. Suddenly from around the corner comes someone you didn’t expect to see here. John Egbert is standing there with a shopping basket full to the brim with raw steak. His hair is shoulder length like that Vriska bitch you vaguely remember. He’s even wearing a skirt?
JOHN: hey swiffer I got the steak for the movie night did
you get the m-
JOHN: davepeta???????? is that you????????
DAVEPETA: B33 < john?
JOHN: oh uh
JUNE: it’s june actually.
JUNE: i’m a girl now haha.
JUNE: didn’t expect you to know since nobody’s seen you for like six years.
JUNE: where the hell have you been by the way?
Your childhood best bro turned herself into a woman? Funniest shit you’ve ever seen. You of course will respect her new gender and all the misogynistic feelings bubbling in your soul^2 for her. You eye her up and down. She really did a bang-up job on the old transition. She’s pretty as a doll. Wait, why are you thinking that she’s a smelly woman now. You can’t be complimenting her without at least several layers of irony and misogynistic pitch flirting.
DAVEPETA: B33 < oh uh weve been in the woods fur a while
DAVEPETA: B33 < its nice out there
JUNE: the woods? why do you never come visit then? we miss you.
DAVEPETA: B33 < oh yknow just purroccupied with the daily life
DAVEPETA: B33 < rise and grind everyday amirite
DAVEPETA: B33 < *shoots my claw up fur a high five*
SWIFER: (June can we please just get out of here.)
SWIFER: (I don’t like your friend.)
JUNE: (oh what? I want to talk to them, it’s been years.)
SWIFER: (Please, I’ll explain in the car can we just go.)
DAVEPETA: B33 < *I keep my claw raised as mew two have a female whispering session right in front of me*
JUNE: haha a what?
SWIFER: June.
JUNE: oh yeah that’s right. we gotta get going if we don’t wanna be late for movie night.
JUNE: see ya some other time davepeta?
DAVEPETA: B33 < dont count on it <3<
JUNE: what?
The troll girl who you will not name to spite her (epic victory) grabs your bestie’s arm and sprints to the elevator, pressing the first floor button several times in rapid succession while staring you directly in the shades. The elevator door closes as June waves you a slightly confused goodbye. Your eyes return to the white stuff all over the aisle and grab a 613 pack of milk. You drop exactly three boondollars on the ground before you skyrocket up and out of Troll Costco. The force of the wind threatening to make you lose the goods if you hadn’t captchalogued them like a normal person. Your shades glance down at the parking lot where you can see the troll girl staring at you as she walks towards her car dragging June by the hand. What a bitch!
The return trip to your lovely Sexism Lair was quite uneventful. A few pigeons died mid-flight from your body smell. Maybe it was finally time to shower for the first time in six months.
You see Geoffrey strongly perched on top of the sea of garbage. You give him a quick bro kiss on the cheek before diving into your home. You toss the milk down the stairs to your moirail who grabs them just before they would have shattered. He always knows just when to grab your milk. Your attention turns finally to the stovetop. You grab a “clean” skillet and begin the process. The crack of at least thirteen eggs scares the raccoons watching in horrified intrigue. Your claw goes to grab one of the Baja Blast Mountain Dew bottles on your counter. The top is carefully unscrewed as you tip the bottle over. A single droplet of Baja Blast falls onto the eggs as they immediately erupt into a nuclear explosion of Baja-Egg terror. The explosion could be seen from far and wide as it leveled your Sexism Lair.
When the smoke finally clears you find yourself and your moirail laying in the remains of your lair. The explosion blasted his green ass up and out of his Gamer Lair and almost right on top of you. He looks pissed but you have a more important matter to attend to. Your claw picks up one bit of the sickly green concoction and carries it into your mouth.
DAVEPETA: B33 < this tastes like shit