Casting Call for Let's Read Genderstuck

Why is it that when the subject of temporal mechanics is broached, your sparing human intellects instantly assume the most ingratiating posture of surrender imaginable? Time is not that difficult to understand. It is a utility that a universe may resort to in order to advance a desired degree of complexity, or may not resort to, if that is the case. It’s all pretty pedestrian, but no. When time travel comes up, you present the face that a man shows when the breeze gradually alerts him to his absence of netherdressings.

I don’t understand. Who better to coordinate such events than the Knight of Time?

Why do I ‘got to’? I don’t ‘got to’, and every time you take my help for granted, I feel like I ‘got to’ a little less.

You suddenly remember you are Diamonds Droog. Whoever took your hat is about to discover she’s the unluckiest person on earth. She better hope you find her dead. What you’re gonna do to her will be much less painful that way

She likes to mess with you from the past. Trouble is she tips you off to where she's been. This time you're ready. Wait for it. Wait...NOW. Predestined bullet holes are convenient. Gives you something to aim for. 7 out of 21 clocks redestroyed.

I’m having some effigies made of ourselves with our backup hats. Deuce brought your crumpled backup hat, which she wound up with somehow. Not sure what happened to hers. Boxcars is obviously tied up at the moment, so I can’t get my hands on it yet.

Hold still, Slick. Something in your eye.

Thief. You will need to be strong. There is important work for you to do. 

Retrieve the ring from the royal vault. And then, destroy it. 

Here, stick this is your pipe and bleed to death slowly.

Your name is Spades Slick. You are the leader of a notoriously vicious gang of mobsters called the Midnight Crew. A rival gang known as The Felt recently knocked over one of your favorite casinos. Your long quest of revenge has finally taken you through the front door of the mansion belonging to their loathsome boss, Lady English.

You've even got an ice-cold one-liner to dish out when the time comes. You've been working pretty hard on it. Wait for it... wait for it... Hate to cut and... Wait, no. Not yet. Wait for it... Hate to... no. Wait... Hate to cut and DAMMIT. Not yet. Hate to cut and run. ... SHIT. Hate to... Hate to...Hate to chop all of your heads off with this sword. Real sorry about that. My bad.

Fine, you can think I’m a fucking douche and maybe I am, but here’s the fact, idiot; I’ve already had lots of conversations with you in the future. I mean your future. I’ve kind of been working backwards here for a while, and it’s a little frustrating. Every time I go further back, you know less and less, and you don’t remember anything I said because it hasn’t happened yet, and I have to repeat myself a lot, and I’m getting pretty fucking sick of it.

Because that’s what you told us to tell you. Whatever, believe me, don’t believe me, I did my job. I’m out of here.

It’s a joke, moron. Honestly, I am just glad nobody else is privy to our conversations. Actually, why don’t we make a pact to delete this one from our logs? I’m just shuddering here scrolling up and reading this.

Order in the court! I will have order in this courtroom. If everyone does not settle down, I will clear out this courtroom, I swear to God.

What have we here? An illegally parked vehicle.

This atrocity cannot go unpunished. Throw whoever is responsible into the slammer. Slammer means jail, by the way.

Heyyyy. First, ok, I think you’re awful. Let’s put that fact on the table where we can both see it. Now you have been primed for the digestive ruination that’s about to take place, and the comprehensive soiling of the laundry enveloping your person.

Pleeeease. I think I am perfectly capable of manufacturing these alleged “dope” human rhymes and starting some sick fires. I don’t need your charity…that you said you lend to, uhh, earth monkeys who toss around poop, or something like that. You’re pretty snooty. Thanks for your help, but I don’t need your help. Oops, sorry, I didn’t mean to block you.

AG just jumped me off a cliff with my brain and, uhh, my legs, also, and now they feel invisible. Wow, I’m sure there was a better way to say that. Anyway, that’s really all there is to report on the subject of me getting hurt.

A young lady stands in her bedroom. It just so happens that today, the 13th of April, is this young lady’s birthday. Though it was thirteen years ago she was given life, it is only today she will be given a name! What will the name of this young lady be?

ZOOSMELL POOPLASS!

Sometimes you feel like you are trapped in this room. Stuck, if you will, in a sense which possibly borders on the titular. And now your chum is pestering you again. The clockwork of friendship turns ceaselessly, operating the swing-lever dealies of harassment in perpetuity. Whatever. This chick can just hold her damn horses. You decide to consult with the Colonel’s bottomless wisdom. Good grief, this thing is huge. It could kill a cat if you dropped it.

Whatever it is, the kernelsprite seems particularly agitated about it. You’re no astronomer, but its trajectory looks suspiciously head-on with your current perspective. This is a troubling development. Joan, high-five kernelsprite. You figure you’ve left him hanging long enough.

You are now Clubs Deuce. Clubs, rough her up. She remains tight-lipped, so you deal her a senseless shin-drubbing with your crook of felony. Oh the humanity. You can barely watch. She’s probably still using her special ability to slow time down for herself. She can’t feel a damn thing, and certainly isn’t saying anything. Apart from a very low noise which could be her saying “ow” very, very slowly.

Everybody out of the god damn way. I got a hat full of bomb, a fist full of penis, and a head full of empty!

You're pretty sure this oven doesn't actually work at all. You just wheel it off somewhere else in the mansion so it can explode in peace. 12 out of 15 Green Torsos dead. Probably some more clocks destroyed, too.

Greetings. Don’t I know you?

Ticket? Oh, this thing. Ha, ha, look at that, I am holding a ticket. How did that get in my hand? It belongs on the desk with the others. No, I am not here to pay a parking ticket. I am here to pick up that green parcel.

How exciting! A parcel for you! Retrieve it! This one’s empty. Perhaps a delivery is in order?

Of course, Joan! I have come back to help you on your journey through The Medium and beyond! I am delighted to see what a fine young lady you have turned out to be. Just like your mother.

You are a good girl, and good girls deserve treats! I am going to go back you some cookies.

You are no doubt reading this as a beautiful and strapping young woman! Why, the ladygrit needed to lift the book is itself a sign of your maturity, not even to speak of the wisdom needed to grasp the nuance of Sassacre's time-tested mischief. I am so proud of you, granddaughter! How I wish I could have delivered this heirloom to you in the flesh. But I am afraid it wasn't in the cards! For you see, Joan, like you, this book must yet take a journey! Its journey will end on the Final Day of my life, and even then will continue some.

Seer. Seer, can you hear me? 

Have a look around, Ross. You have much to
discover.

Ross, find your sprite. Your deceased pet. You
wished to speak with her, did you not?

They all thought I was crazy. But, haha, turns out
we all were in our own ways. That helped us realize the particular destinies
the game put together for us in the vocabulary of, like, the hyper-flexible
mythology it tailors to each player’s group.

Before you keep typing more stupid O’s in that
word, just listen and do what I say. You know you’re going to eventually
anyway, because you’re a nice girl and kind of a total weenie pushover.

Well it may surprise you to know that I don’t give
a crap who gets to be leader, because unlike you, I actually have a fucking
smidgen of maturity and self-respect.

I’m fishing! But sadly, there are no fish, I think.
They were all eaten by the Denizen.

Yes! Ross, I’m just a cat and I don’t know much but
I know that you’re important and also you are what some people around here call
the Seer of Light. And you don’t know what that means but you will see. It’s
all tied together! All the life in the ocean and all the shiny rain and the songs
in your head and the letters they make. A beam of light, I think, is like a
drop of rain or a long piece of yarn that dances around when you play with it
and make it look enticing!

It was fun getting to be your cat again, Ross, even
if it was for a little while and also while being a princess ghost. Bye, Ross.

What? Oh hell no. This is always such a terrible
idea. 

I CONJURE THIS INTREPID FANTASYSCAPE WITH TEARS
BLED FROM THE WISDOM-WEARY EYES OF FIFTY THOUSAND IMAGINARY MAGICIANS. I PULL
HEAVY DRAGS FROM THE BRUMES OF INSPIRATION WITH ENCHANTED BELLOWS MARAUDED FROM
A GUILD OF CHURLISH MYTHICAL DWARVES. VAST BULBOUS RIDDLESPIDERS PUSH THE
SILKEN STRANDS OF PURE WHIMSY THROUGH HIDEOUS ABDOMINAL SPINNERETS AND IT IS
THAT WITH WHICH I WEAVE THIS AUDACIOUS COCOON OF EXQUISITE LIES. AND WHEN IT
HATCHES A GREAT MOTH OF TITILLATION WILL AWAKEN AND ROAR AND BEAT ITS WINGS,
AND THE POWDER SETTLING DOWN WILL ARREST THE HUMORS OF AN ENORMOUS TERRIBLE OLD
BEGGAR, RELAXING THE VULTUROUS LEATHERY VICEGRIP HE'S FIXED AROUND YOUR CAPTIVE
MIND.

Excuse me? Oh, I'm sorry. Am I not going fast
enough for you? Well QUITE FRANKLY, your majesty, I don't think you realize
what kind of hell I've been through. Do you have any idea how long I've been trapped
in this attic?? Do you have any idea how FUCKING SCARY it is in here??? Do you
have even the SLIGHTEST CLUE how many times that wolf head over there has
SCARED THE SHIT OUT OF ME?????

Lies. Don’t bother me, I’m not in the mood. If I
see one more snarl of wires kind of jutting out and being tangled or whatever,
I am going to perform some sort of athletic fucking somersault off the deep end
and get a call from the president or some shit. So go away.

Nooooo, not the ban, it burns. Oh god, hahahaha!
Wait. Oh…god. It does burn. Something’s wrong, I’m serious! That…horrible
psychic noise! The voices…they’re all going to die. Oh shit, I’m bleeding!
Shiiiiiiiiiit. This is bad. I have to get him in, quick. Got to go.

(without lisp) Voices. Indiscriminate, indecipherable voices
all talking at once. Voices of the soon-to-be-dead. They had been getting
louder lately, and I just figured they were all ours. I tuned them out kind of
like I pretty much always do, but now that they’re gone the difference is HUGE.
I mean, WOW. Maybe since they’re gone, it means we won’t have to die anymore?

What was this planet’s
name? Oh, ha, ha! Nice one, smarty-pants. Really hilarious. But let’s get real
here. No more clowning around. Now try again. That is much better. As it
happens, your guess is precisely correct. What are the odds?

Terzen, interrogate. Most
of the interrogation is in the intimidating silence. You don’t want to slap too
hard. Enough to sting, but not to bruise. It must be methodical, business-like,
and persistent. You only stop when you smell tears.

You are now the other…oh.
Oh god. You decide that we could probably stand to delay this girl’s
introduction a little longer. Why don’t we see what someone else is up to? Anyone.
Hurry. You switch to a vague teaser of the final unseen troll in the nick of
time.

Man, everywhere I look, all
I see is motherfucking miracles. It’s so spiritual, all these miracles and
shit. Ok, like just be taking this fucking tits bottle of fucking Faygo I just
cracked open, and how it’s being all like, hissing and shit. Motherfucking
hissing, man, who went all and told it to do that? How would it even do that?
It’s crazy. It’s a miracle.

Yeah. I mean, you got to
show some faith in your friends, cause they’re all the ones who’re being to
look out for you. So fuck, if you say I’m not doing the shit right, then what
the motherfuck do I know?!

(sober) i’ve been kicking
the wicked ignorance on this shit. BEEN MOTHERFUCKIN SLAUGHTERING THE WICKED
IGNORANCE, SIS. all up in lifelong denial about my calling. AS A DESCENDANT OF
THE HIGH MOTHERFUCKIN SUBJUGGLATORS. we are higher than you, sister. WE ARE
HIGHER THAN MOTHERFUCKIN EVERYBODY. honk.

AC saunters from his dark
cave, a little bit sleepy from the recent kill. AC uses one of his mouths to
lick the fresh blood off his paws and the other one to blow you a kiss!

I see right through your
stupid act. Who are you trying to kid?! Look how you go out of your war to use
words that have X’s in them so that you can use your silly purrcent signs, or
use these absurd words that you can shoehorn a 100 into, even if it’s not
strictly replacing ‘loo’!! You are so transpurrent. I can tell you like to play
games. Deep down you are a girl who likes to play games! I can smell a girl who
likes to play games from so fur away with this nose, you have no idea.

But so many of our friends
have died, and it just makes me so sad to think about! I don’t think we have
even scratched the surface of our feelings yet, and our feelings in this case
are a very tall and inviting carpeted post to sink our claws into!

(dead Arrone) Not really.
I’m ok with it. I’m ok with a lot of things, even our inevitable failure,
though it will briefly masquerade as victory.

(Robo-rrone) Wait. What is
that? This feeling. Oh god. OH my GOD! WHAT DID YOU DO?! Did you program this
robot to have feelings for you?? ROMANTIC FEELINGS?!

(Alive) I think so. The
living need each other’s help, just like the dead do. Alpha Dani still has a
long way to go. She’s still not at ease with her mortality, but people like us
have to be!  We have to be prepared to
die a thousand deaths before our quest is complete. The master we serve demands
it.

Yeah, you totally are. My
team’s got no use for a girl that can’t make use of her legs! You were fated
for a team of losers, full of blind boys and lame girls and cranky
iiiiiiiiimbeciles.

Oh maaaaaaaan, I’m so dumb!
Here I am running my mouth and opening up old wounds, while at the very same
time trying to make amends! What an idiot.

I only ever wanted to do
the right thing no matter how it made people judge me, and I don’t need a magic
ring to do that. You don’t have to be alive to make yourself relevant, and you
don’t have to be a good person to be a hero. You just have to know who you are
and stay true to that, so I’m going to keep fighting for people the only way I
ever knew how. By being me.

This is foolishness upon
one hundred thousand prior, equally unsolicited foolishnesses. You’ll stop now.

You’re wrong about me,
Nepten. I do like to play games, but they must be extremely important games
with very high stakes, not the kind played by translucent green wigglers who
let loose an excremental sure hard in their wiggler-bottom diaper-stubs. As it
happens, I have arranged to play just such a game tonight. Arrone and I have a
private engagement to be co-leaders of the blue team.

No, it’s…filthy. I need
some air. Or some cold milk. Or a towel, I need a towel. Where the fuck are all
my fresh towels?! I mean…fiddlesticks, please pardon my language. It won’t
happen again.

All I’m saying is, don’t you think Monster Howie Mandel has the power to do something as simple as reseal a bottle? Try using your brain, numbnuts.

I discovered a comet that is going to destroy the Earth, and it was named after me. Now I am famous, and everyone wants to talk to me a lot.

Hmm, okay. Well, you are the one with the cursor so just do whatever you think is the right thing to do! Also, fix my bathroom!!

A parting courtesy, I
suppose. All the ways I’ve exploited you were meant to bring about events that
will take place this evening. Knowing this will provide context for the events
in your future, and will affect how you behave in response. These events will
be just as important as those preceding it. I’ve gone to great lengths, you
see.

Look at that. The short
amount of time I have reserved for arguing with a child has expired. I will go.
But maybe you’re right. Maybe you are a person with free will and you won’t
kill your friend. What do I know? Enjoy your haunting.

I trust
you won't mind if I speak in white. It's not actually negotiable, but as a
courtesy I will enclose my words between a pair of visually audible brackets. I
am doing this because I can.  I am also
doing it because I am expecting a guest to arrive shortly. This should enable
me to show the woman the sort of hospitality she deserves, while doing the same
for you.

Hmmmm. Well, I am going to
join my team pretty late. I think I have to! I will need to connect after my
goofball moirail does so I can keep my goggles on her nefarious escapades. It’s
a tough job, but it’s important! Everyone has an important job to do.

Okay, I hope so. I think,
now that we are both in this game, and have left our world behind. And you can
no longer pose the danger to our people that you had always planned to…I think
it is not necessary for me to be your moirail anymore. I am
really sorry, Eriell. It has just been so hard looking after you and keeping
you out of trouble! It has taken its toll, and honestly, I am really exhausted.

She has a point, thought,
in that you may be overestimating your abilities? Jane Noir is INSANELY
powerful, Eriell! Please, I don’t want to see you do anything foolish by trying
to fight her.

God dammit! He and me are
teammates, we’ve got to have a powwow or something!

(Without ‘ww’ and ‘vv’) I
DIDN’T EVER NEED ANYONE TO LOOK AFTER ME. I was totally fuckin fine. My
ambitions were noble, and really none of your fuckin business, QUITE FRANKY,
your majesty, and the only reason I put up with stickin my flipper in this
fuckin shithole quadrant with you was—

That’s what you never got,
Fiy. You and I are bein civil by very virtue a the fact that we’re talkin now.
We’re royalty, you and I, and we belong together, even if not in THAT WAY, which
I get that you’re not into and that’s fine, but we belong together as the rulin
class if nothing else. So I’m gonna ask you this one last time and give you the
choice. I’m about to go. Please come with me.

Ok, I can accept that. Monster B-list celebrity douchebags are cunning and persistent pranksters. Also, Fred Savage has a really punchable face. But who cares about this, let’s stop talking about it. Did you get the beta yet?

Sounds like a noise a horse would make. I.E. dumb. Equally dumb are all those pictures of that clown you’ve got hanging up.

It’s always like: WOW THAT’S FUCKING BIG. Like, Mr. President, there’s a meteor coming, sir. Oh yeah, how big is it? It’s the size of Texas, sir. OH SHIT. Or; how big is it? It’s the size of New York City, sir. OH SHIT. Sir, I’m afraid the comet is the size of your mom’s dick. OH SNAP. Sir, are you familiar with Jupiter? You mean like the planet? Yeah. Well, it’s that big, sir. Hmm, that sounds pretty big. I have a question. Is it Jupiter? Yes, sir, Earth is literally under siege by planet fucking Jupiter. OH SHIT.

What were you doing with it in the first place? I am not sensing a lot of regard for the personal properties of others. Is this how your pent-up frustration with your mother manifests itself?

Yes, cake, jesters, unfaltering love and support. Quite a road to hoe there. Though I suppose I’m complicit for not informing Social Services about your situation.

We’ll see. I’ve found no evidence that anyone has successfully created the item, and the content of the card appears to be variable from session to session. In one instance, it was described as an “eggy loking thign”

Do the potted vegetable instead. It looks delicious.

Joan you do not say no to cookies. I command you to get them.

Thank you so very, very much, dear favorable, small primate. I shall take my leave now, Joan. Until next time.

You stop not being Hearts Boxcars. You have made your way to the Felt’s secret vault. It’s bigger than you were expecting. You doubt you will be able to rely on your usual safe-cracking method, which is prying it from the wall with your bare hands.

Hearts Boxcars, waste exactly 4 hours on this tomfoolery. YOU HATE TIME TRAVEL YOU HATE TIME TRAVEL YOU HATE TIME TRAVEL YOU HATE TIME TRAVEL YOU HATE TIME TRAVEL YOU HATE TIME TRAVEL YOU HATE TIME TRAVEL YOU HATE TIME TRAVEL YOU HATE TIME TRAVEL YOU HATE TIME TRAVEL YOU HATE TIME TRAVEL. Above, a spectator has appeared at the strike of 4 and has been giggling at your foolishness for a number of minutes. Clover would have been tickled to help you open this vault! At the cost of answering a few of her clever TIME RIDDLES, needless to say.

Hearts Boxcars, attempt to eat Eggs. Your attempt was an overwhelming success. Biscuits is looking a tad snug in his muffin tray. She thinks it's about time to poke a broomstraw in this battle. Her dough will live to rise another day. SEE YOU IN THE FUTURE, SUCKERS!!!!!

No, I am fine! It landed a pretty good ways from my house and I went to look at it, and it’s pretty big! But, Bec doesn’t want me to go near it, so I came home. She seems to think it’s dangerous!

Oh, but Ross, I don’t think she meant anything like that by it! You see, not everyone always means the opposite of what they say, the way you and Dani always do.

Oh boy…well……it turns out I was confused about it…really confused! See, I guess I fell asleep for a while and…lost track of time. That happens!