Cocksucker Monologue

I’m a simple kinda girl. I like movies, TV, masturbation, games, and a bunch of other stuff, I’m not hard to please is what I’m saying. But you know what I don’t like?

Cocksuckers.

Cocksuckers who would, given the opportunity, fuck me and the rest of our clan up the arse in order to get a little bit ahead in Thren, Thren being the MMORPG that has been heralded as one of the best games of all time.

It just pissed me off.

I keep paying for game time, sure, but that’s just because… You know what? Piss off. I do what I do for fun and I don’t deserve to be judged by anyone, alright?

…

Sorry.

Anyway, rant aside, to say I was dissatisfied with the events that

Now it is your turn to survive in a land of dinosaurs, gangs, rabid humans, and worse. Will you create a community? Or take another’s? The choice is yours.

The training wheels finally came off and I was free to move around the forest but didn’t as a message popped up in the small chat area in the bottom left-hand corner of my vision.

SERVER (Direct): Starter supplies will drop in thirty minutes.

I pulled up my menu screen and discovered I was as naked as the day I was born, my fatigues and armour were gone, along with everything else that I’d been using to get to over ten thousand days of survival. I was still in shock, and the fact that I had to start over from scratch made me want to claw my eyes out.

“Thirty minutes…” I muttered to myself as I took note of the time and looked around nervously, “Gotta survive for thirty minutes… Easy.”

Ignoring the cabin as I’d normally done in my past lives, I made a break for the nearest tree and started pummelling it with my fists, the bark cracking slowly with each punch.

Tree: 199/200

+1 Large Stick

Friendly! I’m friendly!”

Either he was trying to lure in fresh spawns with the promise of safety in numbers only to kill them for the fun of it, or he was just an idiot who’d end up drawing in less stupid people if he kept yelling like he was. Didn’t matter to me, I was gonna be collecting my first scalp regardless.

Barely five seconds of searching went by before I found my yodeller, his chant of ‘Friendly’ acting like a radar system for me.

I crouched in a bush just off the path that he was subconsciously following, his puffy vest and jeans the first thing that caught my eye followed quickly by the bow he had drawn and ready in his hands.

“Friendly!” he cried as he passed me, his screeching apparently only matched by his complete lack of awareness.

I don’t know why, maybe it has something to do with my insatiable need to be a bitch, but as I ran up behind him I couldn’t help but yell “Friendly!” at the top of my lungs before smashing the guy up the back of the head with my axe, drawing little blood but knocking him out