Welcome to Animal Crossing Nightmares. The blog that explores the dark underbelly of Nintendo’s cutesy utopia. Read on and experience the adventures of ‘Widders’, our darkly comic, sociopathic anti-hero, as she wrecks havoc on the inhabitants of Hamster Town.
Update (18/11/11) – Episode #5.3 – Revenge is currently on-hold while I finish the next two episode of my Comics series based on Tommy Wiseau’s ‘The Room’ (if curious: see here) The pictures for episode #5.3 are more or less complete. Work will begin at the start of December.
Update (25/10/11) – Episode #5.2 – Nightmares IS NOW LIVE! To view it just click on the link, select it from the menu bar at the top or scroll down to the post below. This week is the second of a three-parter. I’d advise you to read/re-read the previous episode (below) before reading ‘Nightmares’. Thank you.
Update (05/09/11) – Episode #5.1 – Hatred is now live! To view it just click on the link, select it from the menu bar at the top or scroll down to the post below. You can now share ‘Animal Crossing Nightmares’ with your friends by clicking on the ‘Share This’ button underneath posts/pages and submitting it to your preferred Social Media Website.
Update (26/08/11) – Episode #4 – Possession - is now live! To view it just click on the link, select it from the menu bar at the top or scroll down to the post below.
Update (16/08/11) – Episode #3 – Insanity is now live! To view it just click on the link, select it from the menu bar at the top or scroll down to the post below.
Update (09/08/11) – Episode #2 – Quarantine is now live! To view it just click on the link, select it from the menu bar at the top or scroll down to the post below.
Update (03/08/11) – Episode #1 – Hamster Town is now live! To view it just click on the link, select it from the menu bar at the top or scroll down to the corresponding post.
* The following episode is the second chapter of a three-parter. Since it’s been so long since the last episode, I strongly advise you to read/re-read: Episode #5.1 – Hatred before continuing. However, if unlike Widders, you still have a relatively functional long term memory, you may proceed *
… after the effects off the gas wore off, I awoke from a wet dream where a naked Ron Paul had burst from a ‘Republicake’ at my Menopause party wearing only a ‘White House’ cock pouch. Mmmm, talk about SMALL GOVERNMENT!
Despite all the septuagenarian flashing, no flash photography was allowed because Ron’s sack cloth like skin might disintegrate if exposed to such intense light.
Wait, was this a dream or a memory??
On the traffic light scale, the color of the ‘wet’ in question was a ‘Pabst Blue Ribbon’ light golden hue, though it probably tasted better.
Thankfully it wasn’t red – perhaps that lost nail filer I snuck past the TSA – or GREEN! - you honestly don’t want to know what happens down there when you get old?
anyway, I cleaned myself, stepped outside and …
ARGH DEVIL NOOK!
. . . .
There he was, breathing the color of money, the faces of thousands of dead townspeople who couldn’t keep up with the mortgage repayments, pulsing from beneath his fur.
(Ladies and Businessmen, I present to you, the GOP nomination for the White House….)
Much like the existence of multiple Gods, it just didn’t make sense. Why would an amoral, profit driven fat-cat like Nook want my soul?… and then IT spoke…
“If you have no soul, you’ll feel empty, if you feel empty, you’ll buy more things, buy Gracies furniture series now for 1,542,000 bells”, buy the Blue Bookcase full of books you can’t read…. FEED ME”
I nodded awkwardly, made excuses and ran away like you do at a party when the strange man who habitually plays with his nipples through his shirt starts talking to you.
Consumed by the idea of sweet revenge, I set out to find Portia and punish her the way my dad punished me when I accepted a Hare Krishna flyer on the street…by smearing thick, hot butter in the form of a crucifix on a chunk of burnt toast and pressing it hard against my face.
Ahh! I remember it like it was Monday, April 3rd 1955 “TASTE THE SALVATION” he screamed. I still can, thanks Dad =)
Portia wasn’t home, but I tracked her scent to the Post Office and, wait, Nook’s here too! Just where the f*ck has Pelly gone to?
Yesterday Tortimer was working here, telling lewd stories about young girls he used to chase, “because you get older, the sort of girls you like to chase only seem to get younger” he croaked. Are you talking about the kids on your lawn I asked, no he said….and then he stared at me for an uncomfortably long time….
Nook eyeballed me as I looked over to see Portia’s bloody, inflated head on the counter, staked with a ground peg and chained to the Bell Machine. First Nook said it was because the machine was lonely “everybody needs a friend” he whispered gently, then he said it re-animates whenever somebody made a deposit into their account.
Again I backed away slowly. Oh! what I wouldn’t give to see the strange, nipple rubbing man right about now =(
I stumbled from the Post Office, bleary eyed and shaken, quietly singing Psalms in the voice of a Choir boy stricken with puberty, wondering what the Dickens was going on.
I hobble-ran across the bridge toward the Museum, hoping to find Blathers, the only admittedly sane, respectful and congenial person in Hamster Town. No doubt, he was a once an insipid, beastly individual like the rest of us, but boy does a good school year of vicious bullying mould one into a wonderful person.
First Pelly is missing and now Blathers, replaced by, by, by what exactly, NOOK CLONES?? Nook Clones that want me dead no less. What happened to the clever sales pitches that lead to financial ruin and the liquidation of your assets, or the funeral services paid for by Nook Burger, where it’s always closed casket and you only need a single Pall Bearer because the damn thing is so light .
Has money lost its allure!?
The Post Office, the Museum, it doesn’t matter!!
The whole freaking town is overrun with Nooks. The Able Sisters, Brewster, Doggie #1, Doggie #2, that hippy recluse from the Observatory. Everyone is missing!
During the scariest shopping experience i’ve ever had, one of the Able Sis— I mean Nook sisters boxed me into the corner where I swear the other one was stitching a garment made from the skin of one of the residents.
Actually, come to think of it, the worst shopping experience I ever had was when I wandered into an underground sex shop called ‘Fisters’ whilst overdosing on Dementia medication and saw this…
But that’s a whole other story…
Right now, I was terrified that without any residents, I’d have no-one to torture!
What’s more, even when he’s not trying to kill you, Nooks about as fun as that Obama dildo. The last time I invited him around, he forced us to watch a Bloomberg Channel marathon and kept rushing to the bathroom whenever the ticker on the bottom showed that ‘Nook Corp’ stock had gone up a quarter of a point. I could hear him moaning loudly through the door.
Shrieking Psalm 137, 9 at the two Nooks guarding the town gate, I turned and galloped madly into the night, like a horse, a beautiful elderly horse, with good old fashioned morals and powdered skin, who lives in a house with it’s own torture chamber.
After retrieving the key embedded in a cake of soap by the kitchen sink, I arrived at Portia’s house, hastily unlocked the door and hid in the darkness.
They’d never think to look for me here….
Suddenly, there was the sound of a switch being flicked, light flooded the four corners of the room and….
ARGH! DEMON WHORE!
Portia was alive! “I thought you were out playing with your new best friend, the Bells machine from the Post Office” I barked accusingly.
Before I could quickly mine her for further information and start the delightful business of making toast and heating up some butter, Portia started scraping the bottom of the innuendo barrel and talking like we’d glimpsed each others unmentionables.
As the air turned blue and the filth continued to spew from her hairy chops, like all good Catholics, I felt that familiar hot swell of embarrassing shame rise up inside me….
The sound of her voice grew ever more distorted and my mind tried to grasp the idea of lesbian sex, it didn’t make sense, the parts don’t fit….how would I..*urgh* my mind thought back to ‘Obama’s Stimulus Package’ but, but I just saw it, I couldn’t have bought it…I, I
I screamed until I was hoarse and dizzy. Then slowly, Portia’s image ebbed away and the light began to fade until I was blind, surrounded by darkness.
but as I turned to flee, I was confronted by a chorus of disembodied Nook heads, all chanting in unison, their calls getting ever louder…
This is starting to feel like that movie ‘Inception.’ Only, instead of Cobb playing dream thief and stealing the business secrets of the rich and powerful, he expels green slime from his private ‘axe wound’ after being mind-raped by a home-owning, bi-pedal cartoon dog with a flair for subtle rudeness.
I tore myself from my soiled underwear, which now resembled a prop from Ghostbusters and hastily wrote a letter and pinned it to the front door -
“If this is reality and I have failed in my life goal of torturing you all to death, please promise me that if I start falling asleep at the Bingo table or begin to think that every person I come across is my grandson, you’ll do the right thing”
Anarchy! Protest! LIBERALS!! Sweet Churchill this is worse than the last dream.
I’d have to play it cool if I was going to get out of here alive, put on my Gaddafi hat, lead the revolution and then up the crazy by banning the consumption of water and creating a personality cult around the belief that I am an all powerful crab like being…Scorponok perhaps??
For a second, I thought the 80′s had returned and a Zombiefied Scargill had risen from the ground like the Miners Jesus, leading a revolt against poor Maggie, I mean Nook.
My conservative brain told me to be very scared of this ’99 percent’ but when I asked Rowan whether Portia was a member he said that she was more like the ’53%’. Overjoyed, I picked up his sign and stomped around yelling anti-capitalist rhetoric and complaining about ration books.
Rowan looked pleased.
With winter fast approaching, the trees bore less and less fruit. Fishing rods became scarce and frozen ground made it harder to find grubs for bait.
I feel like i’m reliving my childhood.
Villagers are now swapping survival tips and sharing food….all except Portia that is. She hordes food everywhere! I swear there was so much Carp in her sock draw that the older ones were rotting; their liquified flesh running down into the draws below, oozing between the gaps ruining the carpet.
It occurred to me that the crazy mutt wasn’t even eating any of it. When I pressed her, she went on the defensive, stammering “Without food i’ll be extra-thin and look fabulous at the same time, and when the archeologists find us in a million years, i’ll be the most beautiful skeleton in the Village, THE MOST BEAUTIFUL”
I half-expected her to have a meltdown like Jesse from ‘Saved By The Bell’ (see here) and I’d have to play Zack and physically touch her. *Shudders*
Seeing as we’ve only got two beds, emergency cases will be duct-taped to the roof and covered with a cheap tarpaulin for now.
It may appear to some that i’ve undergone a positive change, but do not worry, ‘Widders Hospital’ doesn’t exist to make you better…as Portia will soon discover.
~*The End *~
Well if that’s the case then we’re all in for a bloody good laugh because I HATE PORTIA!
It’s like being forced to live with one of the money gorged, fashion binging, slut-trolls from ‘My Sweet 16′
Sometimes i’m up all night hating her because I didn’t hate her enough during the day.
Why else do you think Republicans and Margaret Thatcher live so long?
It’s because whenever their gaunt, fearful faces are sucking on the last few drops from life’s teet, they hear of some new Government scheme to help the poor and the hatred-engine inside them roars to life and death is put off for another day.
…like me, the hatred sustains them…feeds them.
I suppose most of you rational, free-loving types, see Portia as a colorful, cartoon dog who you can watch X-Factor with while laughing at the tone-deaf and masterbating to Simon Cowell.
But Creationist-Science tells me that Portia is the offspring of skull-collecting Aliens and dogs edited using the Devils own Photoshop tools.
When I logged an official complaint about Portia’s clothing, he said he rather liked her clothes and then he leaned in close, his stale old man breath clogging up the back of my throat, and whispered in a raspy voice – ‘These aren’t regular lenses i’m wearing you know, hor-hor-hor’
I pray for Winter when Portia will have to cover up her hairy dog chest, i’ve seen enough furry Starfox porn to last a lifetime, thank you! (hush, don’t tell God) The low light will also make it harder to make out the features on her chemically maintained face! If only Portia had grown up in a strict, Christian household like me, she’d have the proper respect for her body.
… my Mom used to do up all the buttons on my blouse, then she’d staple the top one to my neck and send me off to Kindergarten with my Bibleman lunchbox.
Oh! Willie Aemes, I know your 50, but can’t you just save a fellow-believer in need one last time, and remove Portia’s head with your lightsaber.
Unable to get Tortimer’s foul, deviant fantasies about Portia out of my head, I scaled the Town Gate and threatened to leap to my death. Nobody came, nobody even raised the alarm … I really have to stop climbing up here every day.
Mad at myself for thinking Portia was worth committing suicide over, I bought a handful of nudey magazines from Nookways and sat partially naked in the basement turning the pages going, ‘Ohh that’s so ungodly’ before covering up all the naughty bits with my roll of ‘God is Watching You’ stickers.
Whenever I start to feel my hatred levels dipping, I swing by Portia’s and zone out while she drones on and on about herself. Today, this proved especially difficult.
Her cleavage made vomit rush up against my teeth, so I tried to look at her feat but her dress was so high that I was afraid i’d catch a glimpse of ‘Uncanny Valley’ (who knows what plastic surgery she’s had!) but I couldn’t look at her face because I’d scream, so I just gripped my Crucifix really tightly, shut my eyes and fantasized about Bibleman.
…but then she practically gave me license to spread gossip about her. Praise the Lord!
Within a week, the ‘Portia Rumour Mill’ was in full production! Letters, posters, gossip, you name it, if there was a means of distributing rumours, I wanted to know about it. Here are some of the things people now believe:
Portia has Syphilis
Portia has the cure for Syphilis but won’t use it because she’s afraid it’ll make her fat
Tortimer is Portia’s brother and husband, he gave her the syphilis
Portia empties her bladder in the town fountain
Everyone drinks from the town fountain.
Everyone has Syphilis.
It’s actually been a good way to preach ‘The Word of God’ without incurring the wrath of the ‘Cult of Phineas’ (see: here)
…and when I discovered the INTERNET, oh-boy, now I can spread rumours about Portia all over the world I thought. Something called ‘YouTube’ seems surprisingly popular considering it sounds like an illegal tool for conducting gruesome home abortions.
…alas, the great Firewall of Nook Corp thwarted my evil plans. What am I paying this 50,000 bells a month subscription service for anyway?
There really was a hostel with a similar number in the next town over, but when they closed down people figured they’d just moved to ‘Hamster Town’ instead and suddenly Portia was swamped with calls from excited travelers wanting to know how much she charged and what for.
Due to Nook Corps reverse charges policy, Portia had to pay for all inbound as well as outbound calls. Soon she couldn’t afford anymore slutty dresses and her face began to sag and slide because of all the cheap makeup she was buying.
Nook even started billing her for Business Charges in-spite of Portia’s protestations:
Portia: “But I don’t even run a Hostel/Brothel”
Nook: “The Notice Board says you do”
Portia: “The advert on the board says everything is free, i’m not making any profits”
Nook: “What about the sex, that’s in exchange for bells isn’t it?
Portia: “I am not having sex with anyone!”
Nook: “but, you’re the only girl working at the brothel are you not??”
Portia: “Working! This is my House…NO BROTHEL, NO BROTHEL, NO BROTHEL, NO BROT–
Nook: “300, 000 bells by the end of the month or i’m shutting this place down”
When Portia proposed we settle our differences like adults I suggested that perhaps I should call my lawyer, go Sean Connery on her face for being hysterical or do as the catwalk models do and try to ‘outsick’ each other in the lavatory at Cannes.
Frankly I don’t understand what I’ve done wrong, it was she who said ‘Gossip is the price you pay for being fabulous’
Portia’s threats grow ever more laughable, she’s like a small child in the passenger seat threatening to attack you with the contents of her ‘Crayola Art Case’ when you’re speeding through traffic and there’s no airbag on their side.
I took some lice eggs that i’ve been incubating in my hair, put them in the envelope with the invitation to her birthday party and pushed it through her letterbox. She’s an idiot if she thinks she’s going to ‘get rid’ of me that easily.
The townsfolk are convinced that some of the rumours must be true, particularly the drunken message Portia left on everyone’s answering machine
“…Feudal – Feudalism!! I queen Portia, wi-will rule over all you, you barely-sentient piles of jabbering offal…kneel before my diamonds!”
Puddles is Portia’s last remaining friend, which is worse than not having any friends at all.
Everyone except Pelly is disgusted by Portia’s charitable donation to the ‘Boondoxians’
Nook said it was an affront to the God of Capitalism but when we asked who, he simply pointed at himself and smiled … a piece of Nook Burger was stuck in-between one of his gold teeth, he knew, he kept it there because it tasted like Success!
After I returned from my holiday to ‘Azeroth’ I was thrilled to find that Portia still had to wash herself by digging a hole in the ground and pouring water in, Nook won’t let her anywhere near the sea or the fountain in-case she poisons us with her Syphilis again.
Before I left, her eyes burned fire-red and her voice burned with a menace that was unbecoming of her… I didn’t pay it any attention and went on home to screech along to ‘ Songs of Praise’
I opened the door to find my lab littered with barrels leaking poisonous gasses into the air. The noxious fumes soon filled the room and I collapsed on to the floor.
Desperate for air, I grabbed my throat with my hands as a cockroach crawled over my face …. it was the last thing I saw before I fell into unconsciousness.
- To Be Continued -
———————- ——————— ————————–
Is this the end for Widders!
Will Portia’s dream of Feudalism come true!
Is there anything worse than having Puddles for a friend!
All these answers and more in the next episode of ‘Animal Crossing Nightmares’
~* The End *~
Finding ‘Love’ in Hamster is more difficult than trying to teach Nook about ‘Human Rights’ without him laughing. There’s a pool of approximately 20 individuals to choose from, all of which play a starring role in the 6 or 7 ‘murder-dreams’ I have every night.
Oh! how I long to be married, to find that special person that you can manipulate and torture for the rest of your life and still call it love.
…and I think i’ve found that someone.
Hunky Del and I used to be real close, we were inseparable. I used to dream one day that we’d have a big church wedding and i’d make a tiny toy car out of his head and put marshmallow stick figures in it.
It was going to be paradise, the house in the country with the sea nearby, the endless couples dinner parties where you politely ask if there’s enough poison in their wine because you can’t wait for them to leave. Then the crushing blow of marriage followed by the little patter of freakish Human-Crocodile feet. But as it was, Del made a fatal mistake….he kept TALKING to other people and then he made a FRIEND!!…big no no!
…and that friend was ‘WEED!!
The most dangerous thing known to a politician’s career!! Unless your Tom Nook. He says ‘Weed’ is a great way to keep a population passive whilst you fit them with bomb-collars, then he quickly hid the documents behind the counter and asked me to look at the wares in his shop.
Watched a serious 1930′s film about the joys of ‘weed’ last night…apparently it can make you plough into pedestrians, commit suicide, manslaughter, attempt rape and point at the people who live outside of the screen and presume they have children.
You should always get your news from more than one source so when ‘Reefer Madness’ had finished, I switched over to Fox News. A balding walrus claimed that ‘weed’ was a gateway drug that can lead to stronger substances like Prosium, CAKE, Joker-Venom, Energon Cubes and Soylent Green. I’m inclined to believe him, they are ‘fair & balanced’ after all
To stop Del from ultimately hitting a school bus full of children off a mountain highway, I had to take drastic action. Luring him back to my lab, I conducted a random experiment on him, consequently turning his brain into Weetabix substitute.
After nursing him back to health on a diet of ‘Maximuscle Promax Strawberry’ and ‘Reefer Madness’ reruns, Del finally kicked the habit and we became as close as father and son, so romantics!
Del has asked me to ditch my name and marry him “No, I mean a new nickname” he said but I pretended not to notice..“YES, YES, A THOUSAND TIMES YES I SAID”, then it got late and my throat hurt so I stopped saying ‘Yes’.
I moved house that very night and after 2 months Del can’t quite believe I’m still serious about our commitment. “A wedding dress and a green balloon is not a legally binding document of marriage” he shouted
…Bwaha…oh men! What do they know about marriage right girls?
Here’s a picture of me and my new red-jawed hubby loving it up in the sunshine. Married-Men sure act weird, they change the locks when you’re ill, complain when you put metal bars on the windows, sneakily write S.O.S on the front lawn using twigs….
“no more going to the pub, no more football for you” I said, you’re a married man now.
Dell looks adorable with his new leash on, “going somewhere?” I say to him, then we both roll on the floor laughing, well I laugh, he just sort of falls over clutching his throat…MEN ARE FAIL!, they can’t even laugh properly, that’s why they need us women right girls!!!
Several weeks later, I awoke to find Del’s leash in pieces on the floor and my wedding balloon gutted in the bathtub. A ‘De Beers’ advert played out on the TV as I carved ‘WHY!’ into my arm and read Del’s letter and penned my own using a red-tipped thumbtack.
I put my hand over your Mom’s mouth to check her breathing, but some medical drama was on and I got distracted, then she went limp, I HAD to call an ambulance. Secondly, the family didn’t specify how long I had to babysit and ‘WhiteBread’ is a bloody good name; it was f*cking Caucasian wasn’t it!!
Last night Jack Bauer came to me in a dream and said ‘torture is the great communicator’ and from then on I knew what I had to do. It’s nearly 2 weeks since I had my little epiphany and Del still won’t let me in for a cup of sugar =(. It was 3:30am when I knocked on Del’s door, perhaps this time he will let me have that cup of sugar I thought….
Del – “my wife needs to sleep. Why can’t you come over for sugar at a sensible time, I wouldn’t give you any, so don’t bother.
Me – “I love your cute little note Del, you’re not in, yet you answered the door, so funny!…..can I borrow some sugar?”
I figured that Del was angry because he hadn’t had enough sleep so I was very nice and let him have 2 hours before I returned with an axe. I swung it repeatedly at the door frame until great big chunks started flying off, I laughed a little bit because I felt I was really close to finally getting that cup of sugar.
Unfortunately, Del has re-enforced his door with steel so I was unable to gain entry into the house. I hate mess so I shoveled the remains of Del’s door through his letterbox along with a small cup so he could put some sugar in it for me. I thought I heard the cup smash so I ran back, got some sellotape and posted that as well, narrowly avoiding Del’s boot as he tried to kick my hands away.
A week later whilst rifling through Del’s dustbins (I know where his wife works now..yay!) I came across the remnants of the cup I’d given him. I licked all the pieces to see if I could taste any sugar and I couldn’t, plus I cutted my mouth…owie!
To be fair, I only asked Del if I could sleep between his wife and him because:
a) My heater was broken
b) Insane feelings of jealousy
c) If I wet the bed, I won’t be the only one ashamed in the morning
Del says I don’t own a heater, “what about my stove!” I barked. The truth was I was broke, I’d spent my life savings buying the wedding dress Judy Garland was buried in and Del didn’t care one bit. “so how are you going to make money now then”…”Guilt-Cheques from you” I blubbered. I check my mailbox every day, but no cheques ever come =(.
“That sounds like your fault Mrs Widders”
“What about his freedom Mrs Widders”
“That was a heinous and criminal act Mrs Widders”
I thought they were supposed to help you? My lawyer says that if we are going to build a case we have to do better than “a continued refusal to lend a cup of sugar”
I hired ‘Rowan’ to install a radio transmitter on Del’s roof so he could get his pirate radio station up and running. “Why does the microphone have to be hidden in the bedroom wall?” he asked. I laughed. “He’s a disc jockey silly” and then it was off back home to listen to Del’s first broadcast which was mostly about why there was a giant dish on his roof….boring!
I set the tape to record and went off to borrow some sugar. Later I played back the tape to my lawyer who was now very confident that we could build a case. “You’re sure the woman sobbing on the tape is you?” Yes I shrieked, leaping around her office, grinning with joy.
Grizzly said something about ‘real world consequences’ and that I should think about my actions. So I returned home, thought about the whole situation with ‘Del’ and laughed myself sick with a bag of Doritos until my belly hurted.
Wikipedia says that Trees absorb carbon dioxide and release oxygen, if that’s true then why does Nook sell ‘Oxygen Jars’ at his shop?
I chopped down every tree within 200 yards of his house and spent my nights up in a branch with a pair of binoculars and a flash light, hoping to catch a glimpse of Del through his bedroom window, struggling for air.
It didn’t work! The birds can have their stupid nest back. Del isn’t going to be asphyxiating anytime soon, how was he still breathing??
Then it hit me, OXYGEN JARS! I tried to rescue my plan by buying the whole lot, but it’s hard when your poor and your ex-husband won’t give you any money.
However, I am a very resourceful woman and my new plan is far more likely to succeed. While Del complained about his amusing situation, I had to stifle the urge to giggle as I played with his key in my back pocket.
I told him that he better find it soon because Nook hates bums. Del says it’s not fair, “we homeless should get special treatment” he stammered. I agree, a mass culling is definitely the way to go.
Del has been sprinting around town in a panic, desperately searching for his lost key, Nook refused to give him the master key and told him a replacement will cost 500,000 Bells, or 200,000 Bells plus any children as collateral.
I asked him if perhaps he could stay with a friend. Del scowled at me saying “SOMEONE drove all my friends away!”. Who could that be, I thought. Portia probably.
Del went off to find a ‘Cornflakes box’ to sleep in while I thought about what to do with the key. Eventually I decided to place it underneath his door and push it as far back as I could with a stick.
I’ve been really good lately, eating all my greens, making sure there’s not a drop of juice left in the carton before I put it out in the trash…I know Del’s hungry but he shouldn’t get food for free, that’s wrong!
Why can’t Del leave me alone and go smoke his weed and take his wife to the psychiatrist. Getting a gang together and strutting around town causing mischief isn’t going to win me back.
Sure my methods are questionable but their lives were miserable long before I did anything. I was only trying to cure them, with laughter…like Patch Adams!
Recently ‘Hamster Town’ has become a cesspool of theft, cannibalism, disease and Fox News style paranoia. It really is starting to become the sort of place I would be proud to call home.
Much to my delight, things were about to get even worse.
Supreme Overlord Nook made an expensive reverse charges call to my house to shoot the shit about his ‘Master Plan’ for dealing with the Herpes outbreak, which sounded like 99% of the scenes from ‘The Passion of the Christ’ only with Dizzy playing the role of ‘meat pinata’ instead of Jesus.
We both got over-excited at the end and shared a little ‘phone-gasm’ together. What’s a little pleasure between a tyrant and his captive after all, right?
Nook said there was a special festival taking place at the Town Hall this evening. I feel a bit Dizzy (no pun intended) due to the blood loss but i’ve got some blood bags and a straw in the fridge so I think i’ll be okay.
When I arrived at Town Hall, the festival was already in full swing, everyone was invited except Dizzy, even though he is the ‘main attraction’. I got stuck talking to Puppet Mayor Tortimer, listening to his complaints about the giant countdown timer Nook had him build all by himself, yak-yak-yak, something about a slipped disk, no medical insurance and being paid in ‘the satisfaction of a job well done’ and…..
hold it, what the f*ck is that thing on the left
It looks like the wretched offspring of Doctor Zoidberg and Birdo! Why’s it so bloody angry looking? Did they keep it strapped to a chair in the attic before selling it to the circus? I sure hope so…that’s good parenting if you ask me.
Someone did a bad thing….
…i’d be lying if I said Dizzy died humanely.
but then again, it wasn’t like reluctantly taking old Yella out into the backyard to play catch with a bullet. By now poor Dizzy was less a person and more a fish finger that’s been hollowed out and had bits of dog shit poked in. He’s a shell, nothing more than herpes dressed in an elephant costume.
By the time I was aware of what I was doing, it was over, the colourful red confetti filled the air and I broke down crying or laughing, I can’t remember which. I wiped my nose with Dizzy’s bedclothes and started to feel really guilty about what someone else had done. Thankfully duct tape solves everything and soon Dizzy was right as rain, fast asleep in his bed, sporting a trendy new black collar.
I skipped over to Rowans in good spirits, knowing that at least Dizzy died humanely.
‘Why are you climbing in through my window?’
‘Why are you using my sink?’
‘What’s that red substance you’re washing off your hands?’
‘No I don’t want any jam!’
‘Why did you start washing it down the sink before you asked me if I wanted some?’
I came clean and told him i’d just discovered Dizzy’s corpse, but Rowan seemed to think it was a bad idea to call the cops when you’ve happened upon murder! Shit, I feel like i’m in an episode of Dexter and Rowan also has a ‘dark passenger’
Caroline and the others seemed to think that Dizzy was just asleep, “of course he is” I said “Elephants sleep for years at a time, some of them never wake up cause their dreams are too fluffy”.
Note the way Caroline says that it makes her KIND of sad, like she doesn’t really care one way or the other, “that’s exactly how i feel” I screeched and then the guilt slowly faded away like Dizzy’s memories.
Bella, the progenitor of a second ‘Black Plague’ should she ever be allowed to breed, told me that she had entered a beauty pageant. At least I assumed it was a beauty pageant and not some genital odour competition, like the ones war women partook in out of boredom and low soap rations.
The lazy vermin wanted me to pick an outfit for her to wear to the show, but when I gave her Dizzy’s blood soaked poncho she started crying for some reason. Later, I convinced her to wear it out of respect for Dizzy’s passing. Everyone grieves in their own way I guess.
You’d think Puddles of all people would be used to foul and unpleasant smells, considering how she got her name but even I have to admit it’s getting pretty gross. It’s only a matter of time now before the fumigators are sent in and the horrible truth is uncovered.
Awww, would you look at that, somebody crossed my name out at the bottom and wrote ‘Portia’ instead, miraculously in my own handwriting. Just who is this secret admirer of mine =)
…I’ll give you two guesses where the corpse went. (answers in the comments section please)
A raffle was held to determine the next occupant of the house and Bella won! It’s just so fitting, she really loved Dizzy, she wears his Poncho all the time!
When Bella walked in with all her luggage and saw my design, she froze and went dead silent. I laughed and said “it just SCREAMS Dizzy…don’t you think?”
but she didn’t laugh, why didn’t she laugh?
Sunday was the ‘Flea Market’, where everyone visits their neighbours, hoping to find a good bargain or to sell off a few unwanted pieces of furniture. since nobody can talk to Bella without her succumbing to fits of screaming she kept popping over to my place.
She didn’t make any effort to buy anything so I got up to leave. She made a terrible fuss about returning home, muttering something about Dizzy’s ghost and being haunted. “Some People haven’t got roommates and have to live alone” I said, at which point she fainted.
…*tut* “SELF, SELF, SELF.” I yelled, but she didn’t hear me.
I thought about putting her into the recovery position just in case, but then thought better of it and left her alone.
Here’s a shot of Bella’s reaction to the news that she might have to return to her new home. The speed at which the colour drained from her face was quite spectacular. I actually think this photo has artistic merit, which is why i’m thinking of submitting it to the museum.
Without Bella’s permission of course.
‘Why see a counseller when you can go bat-shit crazy’ seems to be Bella’s philosophy. When she’s not ripping out bits of her hair and stuffing them in her mailbox she’s waxing about enemas or extolling the virtues of a cocoa only diet.
I’m sorry Bella, but there isn’t a sugar high big enough to get you over madness mountain. A mountain I didn’t think could get any taller
….until this happened…
ummm…..honestly, I got nothing…
I was the first to be allowed in to see her, I tried a softy soft approach but she kept her back to me and didn’t really say anything. It was such a shame considering i was dressed in the very same wallpaper she loved and adored.
Padded walls get boring after awhile so I left Bella to it and went shopping, visited a few people, went fishing…you know, all the stuff that the people who don’t live in padded cells get to do. =)
I love you freedom.
~ End ~
‘Hamster Town’ – if the complete isolation from the outside world doesn’t get you then the endless cutesy music blaring from the loudspeakers will. If the crippling mortgage doesn’t get you then eating mostly fruit and raw fish will.
…seriously, the cooker delivered to my house was made entirely out of plastic, naturally, the slave labourer who built it was inside! There’s no funeral service in Hamster sooo…..
Yes, i’m afraid that even with the mountains of Porn on sale, it’s the sheer boredom of living here that will get you in the end. They are all the same anyway, mainly somebody breathing heavily in a bush, a couple of shots of a nude figure from the back and then the curtains get closed.
intruder, Tom Nook Director will be in the room as Bella, Portia, Caroline the Actress and there’ll be some crying etc, but we’re all really sick and tired of them by now, especially Portia.
No, what a boring town like this one needs is a scandal!…like something that happens when the numbers on all the tickets at a town raffle have been replaced with the words…
No, it’s not what happens when you’ve been f*cked silly by Paris Hilton in a Tornado. It’s an early April Fools joke I played on ‘Dizzy’ back in February that went horribly, horribly wrong, or right, depending on who you talk to.
Some folk, such as Eunice here, make no attempt to hide their dislike of Dizzy. Although, frankly, I secretly harbour doubts about Eunice; the way she says ‘Lambchop’ at the end of every sentence is eerie.
It’s like she’s a cannibal or something, which would explain why there are no others like her in the town.
There is one other explanation…
I know it seems like i’m being really harsh on Dizzy here, but you don’t understand. April 1st isn’t just about pulling pranks on your friends, like the time I emptied out the powder in Puddles Asthma Inhaler and replaced it with sherbert, April 1st is also…
‘Dizzy Day’is the day when Dizzy goes into ‘heat’. For a whole 24hrs Dizzy becomes the most eager prostitute the world has ever seen. Like some sick hybrid of Kim Cattrall in ‘Sex In The City’ and Dumbo hitting puberty, he shuffles around the town, panting heavily, pushing his ‘Secondary Elephant Hose’ up against our windows and crippling the tourist industry.
Urgh…it’s because of shit like this that I started the ‘Herpes’ rumour in the first place. I don’t even know what Herpes is, when Nook asked me for a list of symptoms, I made some up that sounded vaguely plausible. E.g - ‘Sudden onset of multiple personality disorder, menopause, poverty, gigantism, liquid spine unpleasantness, fear of fruit’.
Fearing that there may be nobody left by morning to exploit for financial gain, Nook didn’t even wait until morning before putting ‘Operation Quarantine’ into action…
During the night, General Nook (as he’s now calling himself) ordered me to put up Warning Displays around Dizzy’s house. The red circles signify ‘No entry’ whilst the screaming white face set against a grey background is an artist’s description of Dizzy’s present condition.
General Nook also had me and Miranda dig ditches right the way round the
house enclosure to make sure that Dizzy stays put. Funds for an Electric Fence are being raised through the sale of ‘White Shit Catchers’ or Nappies, as Nook calls them, which have proven very popular amongst the locals, sales of shovels and Febreze however, have since declined.
A few days passed with little incident, sure Dizzy scrawled ‘S.O.S’ on the inside of his window but the guys in Hazmat suits cleared that up right away. Still, General Nook needed someone to volunteer to be a ‘Sex Soldier‘ and sleep with Dizzy to confirm the Herpes threat was still present and so we all drew lots.
Miranda drew the shortest straw and the fearful mob carted her off to ‘Dizzy’s Bordello’ to be sacrificed in the name of public safety. Technically, Miranda didn’t even have a straw, there weren’t enough to go round because I took two of them, one of which I ate.
3 minutes after entering the house, Miranda broke free and made repeated attempts to leap the Security Ditches forcing the townsfolk to take turns batting her away with our nets.
Still, every time she looks at me across the barricade I have to pull out my mirror and look down my pants to make sure i’m still clean.
Disclaimer: If you consider Dharma and Greg to be good comedy or think that humour based on pain and suffering is abhorrent, then please leave now.
Animal Crossing Nightmares isn’t for you. Although ‘Hamster Town’ may look like an idyllic place to live where love and kindness are as plentiful as the fruit on the trees, it isn’t, it really, really isn’t.
This is ‘Hamster Town’.
Imagine if the Garden of Eden was run by corporate America and staffed by reject mascots from Disney World and you’ll have a pretty good idea of the kind of place we’re talking about. Nobody who lives here was born here. Chances are you were brought to this ‘Paradise’ by this man/thing…
A piss-stained bus conductor with a glandular problem, whose primary joy in life is to ‘buy’ up little girls like they were packets of crisps.
Before I found out the truth about this place (see: http://lparchive.org/Animal-Crossing/) I was truly a model citizen.
I caught fish, nabbed bugs, planted flowers, willingly accepted another mortgage on a property that I hadn’t asked for and endured woeful letters from my fellow citizens that never referred to anything i’d written them.
Whereas Billy and others like him wanted to escape, I just wanted to have some fun, to get up to a little mischief. I’m not motivated by ideas of revenge and justice, I’m just a bitter old dinosaur who is physically repulsed by things like the ordination of women (in-joke – ten points if you got it) and find indescribable joy in the misery of others. Life is a balance after all =)
This is my happy place, it’s grey, damp, cold and a great place to invite my friends over for a ‘pretend’ game of ‘Kidknap Victim’.
Sometimes I forget it’s just a game and for that I apologise…Bella…but most of the time, I like to keep them around because of my awful, awful loneliness, plus the screams help me to sleep…again, sorry Bella.
On second thoughts, perhaps Bella is the one who should say sorry. After all, if anyone knows how much of a b*tch insomnia is, it would be her. She keeps complaining that she can’t sleep because someone keeps sneaking into her house at night to re-arrange all her stuff so she can’t find it.
I estimate that Bella’s dental hygiene is pretty f*cked by now, so her boyfriend better dump her by next week because i’m running out of places to hide that toothbrush!
Puddles tells me she is Nook’s eyes and ears in ‘Hamster Town’, at least until his mind control pills arrive in the mail. Apparently Nook is a massive technophobe, something about his Dad and a mail order bride with noisy joints and no pulse.
My eyes start twitching in panic as Puddles does a good impression of what the Patriot Act would be like as a person. I wonder if she knows about the villagers in my basement, the toothbrush in her mailbox or the awful thing that’s going to happen to her next week.
The last person who fell foul of one of Nook’s numerous and contradictory laws was a young villager named ‘Shelley’. Nook never said so directly but from the look of the specials board at ‘Nook Burger’ the following day, I think it’s clear what happened to her.
Caroline burst into tears when she saw it but I ‘enjoyed’ Shelley much more in death than I ever did when she was alive…and after I swapped over our lunches, I am sure Caroline did too. =)
The only escape offered to residents of ‘Hamster Town’ is the ‘City’. It’s offensively small. I’ve seen bigger cities in snowglobes…and they we’re prettier, and they had a weather system…and, AND they didn’t have a vicious pack of Hydras lurking in the fountain, should you attempt to escape by scrambling up the side of ‘Gracie Grace’. They sure can draw a crowd though. Hell, shopping isn’t even my primary reason for going to the City anymore.
Being extremely xenophobic, I find City folk to be far less bearable than the animals in the Town. Above is Phineas the Creationist. He/it believes that God made Balloons so that the good Christians among us could leave this cruel world early and ascend to heaven. Nook’s militia have dealt with the ‘Cult of Phineas’ before. 30 members have been arrested in the last month alone, their balloons popped in an orgy of violence in the town square.
A couple of days later, upon returning home from the
Colosseum City, I was alarmed to discover that the ‘Happy Room Academy’ had paid me a visit. Front door kicked in, cupboards emptied on to the floor…the works. The Patriot Act can’t extend to all the way out here can it?
Then I realised I had no idea where ‘here’ was and so I asked Nook if I could purchase a map. His eyes grew huge and scared like a 4 year old at a ramshackle medical practice. He screeched the word ‘Map’ over and over again whilst attacking me with his pricing gun until I fled in confusion.
Later that same night, Bella told me that Puddles had been arrested for theft and that the stolen property had to be destroyed because of mould. Her royal Mouse’iness yacked on and on about her toothbrush, said she felt like giving up on ever finding it. I told her to keep looking, that it was sure to turn up somewhere.
Although Puddles has been framed and Bella can now cause others to vomit when she smiles, I must not forget the other joys in life, such as teaching. Teaching is very rewarding, as Caroline here demonstrates after completing my advanced course in Alternative History. She’s a very promising student. =)