Khazard's Big Gay Adventure

Khazard was sitting at home in front of his computer. His room, dirty and small, was lit only by the cool light of the screen in front of him. A cursory look around revealed a modestly decorated bedroom, the floors covered in discarded pizza boxes and old mountain dew cans. In the corner, covered in a mixture of liquids best not too thoroughly analyzed, was his dakimakura, the long pillow clearly showing the faded image of Brother Vigilance staring back at him with that fierce stare of implacable resolve. Many o a rainy evening would be spent in silence, laying with the pillow listening to the works of Vivaldi and Beethoven, and many a morning would be spent quietly staring at the armored visage it represented, doing deeds again best not too thoroughly analyzed.

 

A loud crack echos around the tiny room, as Khazard takes another bite from the long cheeto in his hand, splattering his naked stomach with a cloud of soft orange dust. His guildmates occasionally squeaking out more directions for World of Warcraft, but Khaz is not listening. He continues clattering on his keyboard, talking in the cytube.

 

"Hehe." he snorts vulgarly.

 

"That silly Vigil will never be able to write a story with ALL his story ideas! I so clever it hurts! Nya!" the overweight weeaboo chirps out, loudly enjoying his own cleverness. Khazard, you see, adored his intellect, its what made him better than other people. Those silly Christians and 4channers would never know the sublime grace of a fedora upon their heads, or the holy steps of a well-ran tumblr. Those intolerant bigots, he thought to himself, how I hate them, I wish they would die!

 

The crack of light from the hallway interupts his rage however, as a large form enters the room carrying a basket, quickly flipping the light switch

 

"Moooooooooooom! I'm playing vidya and talking to my friends!" wailed the strange creature, his neckbeard extending an extra foot in sympathy for his plight.

 

With souless eyes his mother repeats "Don't mind me, I'll be out of your hair in a minute" she says, folding his Twenty Percent Cooler shirt into the closet.

 

In a moment she was gone, and the room was again safe from the predations of light and parental guardians.

 

"Why doesn't she just let me live my own life?" the overweight thirty-four year old thought to himself.

 

Returning his eyes to his screen, he notices a swirling portal of blues and oranges in his screen, quietly bubbling liquid unto his screen down onto his keyboard.

 

"What the?" is all he has time to say, as the gateway opens up, pulling him into its gaping maw of a wormhole. However Khazard only possessed a 19' screen, but a 50' waistline, so he became very clearly stuck. With a loud squelching sound, he begins moving in place, hoping his mansweat will let him pass through the gate. With a loud *plop*, Khazard is pulled into his computer, flying through a twisting blue wormhole while the Doctor Who theme plays. Images of infinite possible universes fly past him, filling his head with dreadful euphoria. Clearly only a being of his sublime intelligence was deserving of his scene. Just as he was coming to enjoy his trip, he sees a light before him, pulling him towards it and through it, onto soft green grass. The sunlight pours overhead onto the nocturnal brony's pale white form

 

"Aaaaaaah! Natural Light!" screams Khazard, as he ducks into nearby bushes, trying desperatly to hide his mostly-nude form from the elements, wishing to almighty Sagan that he had had the foresight to pack pants. Suddenly, through his impish troll ears, he hears the sound of laughter and conversation. Looking through the bushes, peering just beyond them, is two small technicolor horses talking about the weather.

 

"Jackpot."