EDIT: Some story I made in OffTopic, so many jokes may be a little...different. Hope you like it. It started with seeing the 'big wigs' of #OffTopic. They were so respected, so loved. So hated. Verbatim being a tool made me want to be as cool as him one day, so I decided to become cool. To become the hero we need. It continued for several months, as I made threads that were unoriginal and copies of what hundreds have done before more, hoping the bandwagon would carry me all the way. It didn't work. I continued to be harassed by mentors for being too gay. The Bungie team would pick on me whenever I was in the main forums, so I stayed in groups...biding my time. But it didn't last. They employed a tough cereal killer, yes, [i]cereal killer[/i]-- I kid you not-- to get me. Engrapadora found my furry groups, pretending to be one of us. He was truly working for the Bungie team- one of the Webmaster's goons. I had nowhere to go, no one would let me into their threads, calling me a goat -blam!-. I went to the only one I could--purely on the basis of the enemy of my enemy is my friend--Recon Number 54. He was notorious for being against the mainstream...a hipster, if you will. I sent him an envelope...inside the envelope was butter. Not toast, because Stosh was watching him, and he brutally beat and -blam!- any toast he found. I waited week after week, hoping it wasn't intercepted. One day, as I was on the normal boob thread trying to see some action, the mailman came by. He looked sketchy. He had a black envelope, and it was bigger than usual. I carefully opened, dreading the possibility of a letter from my transgender girlfriend/boyfriend, Taticool Badger (he/she identified differently everyday). What I found shocked me! It was a black piece of paper, and in black ink it said, "Meet me in the woods approximately 3.918 miles from your house, midnight. -Sincerely, True Underdog". Weird, I thought, Recon spelled his own name wrong...little did I know it was a foreshadow. Nearing midnight I walked outside with my trustee meter stick so I could measure out 3.918 miles perfectly. I slowly continued my trek. I saw a group of shadowy figures when I hit 3.917 miles. I assumed they were my contacts...they weren't. They beat me senselessly, shoved my meter stick up my ass, took my money, and shot me in the shoulder. Luckily I was a trained surgeon, and it carved my bloody meter stick into a tweezers and pulled the bullet out while biting down on the remainder of the stick. I finally limped my way to the spot. There was a half circle of hooded figures. "Recon..is that you?!" When they revealed their faces, I saw Charlemagne, Bobcast, Daza-blam!-, Foman, LilStew13, an True Underdog. But...the none of them looked human. Instinctively I said "Ayy Lmao!". They instantly beat me, calling me a -blam!-, and spit on me. "You'll never be coo. I'm sorry kiddo, the game was rigged from the start." KABLOOMY! Ded. I somehow survived? How could it be? But, there I saw Recon, light behind him, deep piano playing..."Say something, I'm giving up on you!" He sobbed, "And I'm sorry I couldn't get to you! And anywhere I would've followed you!" And he carried me into the distance. Fin.