It was a usual Tuesday evening; usual in that I was doing absolutely nothing except getting exceedingly miffed at that shit-eating iPhone game, Angry Birds, the game spawned from Satan's asshole with the sole purpose of making you buy another phone after having smashed yours to bits in face-splitting, pants-soiling rage.
This is the offending level. If you think you can beat it then I humbly invite you to fall off a bridge.
Despite what it looks like, this story is not about battletoad-difficult video games; it is, in fact, about how I saved the world last Tuesday. At approximately 6:45 that evening, I was startled by a scratching noise somewhere in the vicinity of just over there, which is almost as bad as hearing one in the vicinity of right behind you; I decided it would be best to wait until it got louder. I waited for 28 seconds before the vicinity of just over there erupted with a cacophony of squeaks, squeals, squelches and other sounds not so easily described. With my initial emergency response action, shitting myself, out of the way, I grabbed the closest thing to a weapon I could within arm's reach, a wii-mote. With Television's mortal enemy in hand,
I carelessly broke to start a different paragraph where it's entirely unnecessary, and approached the noise which, upon further analysis, was originating from the behind a box prefecture of the vicinity of just over there. Spooky. I slid the box away from the wall and, as the chorus of noise ceased, risked a peek behind it. The vomit on my bare feet and fresh load of feces in my undies was testament to just how terrifyingly hideous and hideously terrifying a hydro-cephalic baby zombie vampire T-Rex pirate is when you see one for the first time. I think I handled it pretty well though since in my case there were four of them.
Incredibly brave as I am, I flipped the box over on top of the creatures and walked away, letting the housekeeper deal with it. No really, it's ok, it's her job.