I freeze, not knowing what to say.

See, you are only good as long as you find appropriate jobs for Gods. Our family business have been thriving because my ancestors made some very wise decisions.

Like the time my great-great-grandma gave Odin the job of Santa, and gave Chernobog the job of Krampus.

Or when my Grandpa gave Ares the job of the German Chancellor in 1933.

However, the cost of messing up is very high. We nearly went out of business when my great-great-great-great-great-granduncle (is that even a word?) gave Dionysus the job of the French King. The resulting revolution threw Europe in disarray and completely destroyed our credibility for the next 50 years.

It is for this reason I dread Loki.

Dude has been a failure at every single job we found him in the last 200 years.

My father found him a job in real estate. He failed, spectacularly. Where most people fail once, he failed so many times that it boggles my mind.

We sit and discuss. As always, Loki is unwilling to hear anything I have to say. He always thinks he knows best.

Out of frustration, I suggest reality TV. His histrionics will be right at place there.

To my surprise, Loki agrees. He gets up and leaves.

I heave a sigh of relief. I am just glad to be rid of his obnoxious presence.

I was getting ready to go to my son’s ball game when I see Loki at the door again.

It’s been 10 years since that fateful meeting. Last I heard his show was doing well.

Predictably, Loki ended up failing again. He tells me his show is getting canceled.

I am taken aback but not really surprised. I call my wife, letting her know I’ll be late, then sit down for an unpleasant, unpleasant conversation with Loki.

We do the dance where I try to make him see reason and he discards whatever he say.

Finally, in a moment of weakness and frustration, I scream out: “What DO you want? To be the president?”

Ironically, this seems to appeal to him. Loki gets up and leaves.

As he leaves, the reality of what just happened dawns on me. This will be worse than the French revolution!! My family will never survive this!

I shudder.

It has been a year, and I do not know what to say.

Loki, the failed God, the failed real estate guy, the failed reality tv star is having a stellar campaign for the presidency!!

He says the most outrageous things, which should normally make him a parriah, but the audience laps it up!!

Sometimes, he says things just in jest, or to see how much he can lie and get away with, and his audience still keeps cheering!!

I don’t even know what’s happening.

Tomorrow is Loki’s inauguration. He won the election when no thought he will! Looks like he is our next president!

I shudder to think what President Loki would do.

Personally, I can’t complain though. Even since the election results came out, our business number has been ringing non-stop.

I was playing a game with my good friend, Dagon the god of fertility, when Eleanor calls again.

I politely excuse myself and promptly appear in front of her.

“Yes, Eleanor?”

She is now a teenager of 17.

“Father, I want to set up an orphanage that caters to orphans and children who have abusive parents. Veromir asked me to speak to you.”

“Of course, Eleanor. You can ask Galadriel. He will appear to my priests. They will set up orphanages around the world. They will also set up a holy order of missionaries that will investigate and protect children from abusive parents.”

“Thanks father. You are the best!” without waiting for a response, Eleanor runs out again.

That girl, I swear.

I suddenly realize a smile had crossed my face.

Do Gods smile?

“Have you gone crazy, Allfather Xy’xy’kul?” thunders Dagon in the council of Gods: “we do not directly intervene into the human world!”

I am about to tear Dagon a new one in response when something else grabs my attention.

“Dad? Daaaad!!”

I excuse myself from the Gods’ council, not very politely, and appear in front of my daughter.

“Yes, Ellie?”

The young woman in front of me sighs: “The Gods won’t do anything, and neither will they let you do something.”

It was a statement. My daughter has picked up way more from me than I expected in the last 7 years.

“Yes.”

She rises. Only then do I realize she is dressed in full armor. Veromir has told me she is one of the greatest swordmaster (swordmistress?) on the continent.

“Very well,” she says: “It seems I must do this myself.”

As she starts to walk out, I finally find the words.

“Wait!”

Ellie stops. She looks at me sharply.

“You can’t be involved.”

“I know” I reply: “But I can make you my champion. It will grant you the power of a demigod.”

She assesses for a second. Then she makes up her mind.

“So be it.”

In the year of our lord 1, a great wind arose in the west. It was the holy crusade, led by a fierce red haired woman. The armies of the empires scattered like wind before her fury, and soon the entire continent was united under a single banner.

The woman established the Xy’xy’kul theocracy, where we are governed not by corrupt and inept lords, but by members of the Order of the Sacred Heart. Rumours say that the members of the Order are either orphans or rescued children.

Paradoxically, for a theocracy, the worship of other Gods are not prohibited. In fact, most people agree that we have far more freedom now than we did under the old empires

• Archivist Greer, from “A history of the continent till the present day”

The child cowering before me was barely 12.

I sighed, knowing fully well that this was neither the first nor the last time.

And they call me the eldritch horror.

I change to a human form and make myself smaller, until I am almost as small as the child.

Almost.

“Do not be afraid, child” I say: “I accepted your parents offer only so that you may remain safe. If I had not answered, they’d have progressively moved down the ladder until they were selling you to their supplier for their next fix.”

The child remains silent, but two fat tears come out of her eyes.

Should have probably left that last part out. Oops!

I walk upto the girl and pat her hair in a vaguely human gesture: “There, there. You are safe now.”

“Within my realm, you can go wherever you want, do whatever you want. You have full access to my library, the knowledge of universe is at your disposal.

If you want to learn a specific skillset, a tutor will be provided for you.”

I scratch my head. What else do 12 year olds require?

Of course!

I speak again: “I think you should also have friends. I will see to it that you go to the best school in the realm. Veromir?”

The arch demon was only pretending to not pay attention. At the mention of his name, he swiftly transformed into a young man wearing a crisp white suit and appeared in front of me:

“Yes Allfather?”

“You will be the girl’s father. You will take her to her school and bring her back, and you will accompany her whenever she wants to roam around in the human world.”

A curt nod, then Veromir transforms again. This time to a middle aged man. I can see he has the attire of a minor lord, important enough to get his way but minor enough to be noticed by the people who might realise something is amiss.

Smart chap.

I frown, then remember.

“One more thing” I say, and produce a pouch.

“This is a magic purse” I declare: “Whenever you want to purchase something, put your hand inside and it will provide the exact change.”

“ If you need anything else, just call my name and ask, and it will be provided for. I am omnipotent and omniscient, so I will instantly know what you are asking for.”

“Do not think of me as a God, think of me as a guardian that you now have.”

The child has stopped crying by now. She gives me the smallest of nods, then turns around and leaves.

I whistle again, and the Archangel Galadriel appears before me. He bows down, wordlessly.

“Keep her safe” I say: “Watch over her 24/7”

Galadriel gives me briefest of nods, then disappears.

I was busy designing a new world when the girl walks in.

“Ah, Eleanor” I say, not unkindly: “What brings you here?”

The girl stands, hesitating. She is 14 now. Veromir tells me her education is coming along well.

“Speak, child” I assure her: “there is nothing I will not grant you.”

Very softly, almost in a whisper, the girl says “Allfather Xy’xy’kul, Veromir tells me that my parents are planning to sell my baby brother.”

She says nothing else.

I get up.

“Let’s get this sorted.”

An apocalyptic storm descends upon the town, as I storm to Eleanor’s parents. For this, I have chosen a form that horrifies humans and almost drives them insane.

Almost.

“You dare?” I thunder: “You dare to put my consort’s siblings for sale like some salted fish?

Eleanor’s parents fall to the ground, prostrating themselves and begging for forgiveness.

“For this blasphemy, I claim all your remaining children. There will be no recompense.”

“Further, any future child you may have will automatically come to me.”

On our way back, accompanied by a new gaggle of children (Eleanor’s many siblings), Eleanor softly whispers “Thank you, Allfather Xy’xy’kul”

“Anytime, child.”

More in a bit.

I sigh and put down the scroll.

Time to get ready.

This is the most fulfilling, but also the heart-rendering part of my job.

The kid who turns up in a bit doesn’t look a day older than 7, although I know he is 10. His frail body can barely hold up his oversized bald head.

Also, he is dressed in the most ridiculously colourful attire ever.

“Come out, Demolisher!” he shouts, with a confidence only little kids have.

I step out, dressed in my best.

“Prepare to meet your doom, hero! Tell me your name, so that I can put it next to your skull in the hall of the vanquished!” I thunder.

“I am called Aggo-prefect, and I will subjugate you and rid the world of your evil!” responds the little boy.

I take to the sky, sending out bolts of energy at the boy while taking care not to actually hit him.

The boy dodges (or thinks he does), and fires back at me with his nerf gun.

I pull the darts towards me using tractor waves (at this range they would never even come close to me otherwise), and make a show of dodging them.

This goes on for a while.

Finally, when the boy is down to his last few darts, I let one of them hit me.

I make a show of flailing about while I fall to the ground.

“Curses on you, Aggo-prefect! Not even the Gods can defeat the Demolisher!”

The little boy walks upto me, with great effort. He says, softly: “But I have defeated you.”

He takes out a pink coloured plastic lightsaber, a cheap thing, and pokes me in my ribs.

I stop moving and close my eyes.

Six weeks later, I receive a letter.

“Mr. Demolisher,

Jason passed away peacefully in his sleep last night. For the last six weeks, he couldn’t shut up how he was a superhero who defeated The Demolisher!

We couldn’t thank you and the Make-a-wish foundation enough for bringing such joy to our little boy in his last days.

Gordon and Bella”

I sigh. I have been lying low since the encounter with Jason, with no public appearances. All so that Jason can really believe he has defeated a supervillain.

I get up to make myself some coffee and get ready to make a public appearance. Maybe today I’ll rob a bank.

Being a supervillain does not come cheap.

Vertigo was killing it at that point. Y the last man, Hellblazer, 100 bullets, the initial run of Fables.

Let me guess: callback to Elaine Belloc?

Monday: The mayor announced that we’ll be installing spikes on the park benches at night to prevent the homeless from sleeping. Looks like I am going to need a new address. Father Martin had offered to temporarily put me up with him in the church premises. Maybe it’s time I took him up on the offer.

Tuesday: Today was a good day. The young man with the sharp suit got me a pizza. It has been 3 days since I last ate.

I hope I get to see him again. He works in a fruit factory, I think, selling apples.

Wednesday: I found a new friend today! She nuzzled up against me when I was sleeping! I think we are going to be the best of friends!

I have decided to name her Tamara.

I need to find some food for Tamara.

Thursday: Bad day. Someone stole my blanket during the night. Later, when looking for something to eat, a lady screamed at me for no reason. Apparently she wanted me to find a job.

Why are people so mean?

Friday: There’s a storm warning. I have decided to take up Father Martin’s offer. Tamara must be safe.

Saturday: A massive storm is raging outside. Father Martin has to go out, apparently a kid got possessed. I have decided to drive the Father as no one else can come to the church in this storm.

It has been over 3 hours. The storm outside rages, while Father Martin continues his exorcism inside.

I fear for the old man. If it doesn’t end soon, the old man might end up having a heart attack.

The door creeks as Father Martin walks outside. His face is red with exertion.

“I suspect it is a high prince of hell” he croaks.

Then he collapses in the chair.

I bring him water to drink. Suggest he rests for a bit.

Soon the old man falls asleep. Eighty is no age to be running around fighting demons. I feel for the Father.

As Father Martin snores gently, I decide to take a peek.

The room smells wrong, rotten. A kid lies in the bed. Hearing my footsteps the kid opens her eyes and smiles a ravenous smile.

“A girl” the thing inside her growls.

I’d recognize that voice anywhere.

I step into the light. “Hello, Beelzebub.” I say, softly.

The little girl’s face contorts in fear.

“Mazikeen?? Mistress, what are you doing here?”

Beelzebub continues staring at me wide-eyed as I walk upto the bedside table and pick up the cross the old man was using, toying with it.

“Wasn’t aware I owed you any explanations, Beelzebub” I say, softly.

“Of course not, Mistress. A thousand- no, a million apologies! How may this humble servant serve Mistress?”

“Leave.” I say, politely but firmly. “And let them know that Malone county is off limits.”

Then I add, even more softly: “I won’t be nearly as generous the next time.”

Beelzebub shudders visibly.

Then he is gone.

The child snores, lightly. He will remember none of this.

I step out of the room. When Father Martin wakes up he will discover his exorcism worked.

Sunday: The storm has cleared. It’s warm and sunny outside.

As I was taking a walk outside I was suddenly hit by a beer bottle in my face along with a call of “Fuck off, hobo slut!” from a passing car. I could hear laughter from inside the car as it then sped away.

Why are people so cruel?

Who thought D&D would come so handy one day?

A long time ago, my mentor, Merlin explained to me how magic really works. I was his best pupil, he said, to carry his legacy forward.

Unfortunately, Merlin is no longer around to vet me.

Most people just see me as an annoyance, a slacker nerd with no aptitude for anything.

That annoyance only grows when they find I am one of the greatest mages in the world.

Many mages tried to show me my place. They all fell flat on their faces.

Other mages tried more lethal routes. All of them failed.

As the mage society started unifying in opposition to me, the attacks on me grew deadlier and yet equally impotent.

Which brings us to the events of today.

The great grandmaster Andlurth, the seventh of his name and leader of the Archmages, and the Dark Mage Kovith, the first Hellspawn, have jointly challenged me to a magical duel, in front of an audience that includes the High Council of Mages and the Kings of the continent. The Emperor of the Rhoyyylanth is the Chair.

As we take our respective positions, the two mages start chanting in unison, using the black speech:

“Skaat burz goth

Durb tala ul

Pau ishi grish

Nagraufrom! Nagraufrom! Nagraufrom!”

“Come dark lord! We summon you, Morgoth!!”

I sigh. An evil God. How predictable.

As Morgoth appears inside the runic circle, I hear a few gasps. The audience shifts uncomfortably.

I sigh again, step forward, and raise a finger:

“A giant hand from space appears and swats Morgoth like a fly.”

On cue, a giant hand from space actually appears, and actually swats Morgoth like a fly.

The resulting gore is something to behold.

The arena goes into a hushed silence for a minute, then explodes:

“Charlatan!!”

I sigh again.

Part 2:

The meeting continued. Shortly into the meeting, Joe put his legs on the table. A few more nbuurhh fainted when the system identified that his shoes were made from the hide of a 18 foot long apex predator.

Joe remained nonchalant, reclining in his chair and occasionally taking sips of the ethanol in his flask.

The nbuurhh repeated their demands. Although this time, quite meekly.

When it was his turn to speak, the human sat up. His eyes were now quite red. For a moment, he collected his thoughts, then directly addressed the High-emperor: “Mister, sorry I forgot your name…”

The prime-minister was up in arms: “High-emperor Chzuu’rbb, and you will address his majesty by the right honorifics!!”

“The Chung-what now? Sorry too complicated, I’m just gonna call you Xander, Xan for short”

While the Nbuurhh were completely shocked into silence, the human continued:

“Look here, Xan my man, I honestly do not give a shit about what you do to the seed world. I do not care at all about what you do, and I give less than a shit about the Nbuurhh.”

“However, I am here to do a job, so I will do my job.”

“Here is what I offer: Nothing”

The nbuurhh in the room shuffled nervously. They couldn’t believe their ears, but they also didn’t know how to respond to the human.

“We offer you nothing.” reiterated the human, “you will withdraw from the seed world, submit to the galactic authority, and pay reparations for this affront.”

“Or, you can do none of that, do as you wish, and the human fleet will grind the entire star system of Nbuurhh to the dust.”

Here Joe paused for dramatic effect, took out a piece of chewing tobacco from his pouch, and bit into it. A few more of the Nbuurhh fainted.

Chewing on the tobacco, his voice now coming out in a deeper drawl, the human continued: “Do you know how many weapons we have in storage that are nearing expiry? Our war games and weapons testing don’t even put a dent in the stockpiles, and the galaxy’s avowed principle of pacifism means that the only time we get to use those beauties is when we have fuckers like you.”

Dropping his voice to a whisper, he continued: “Raytheon and Lockheed will probably pay me a trillion credits each if this negotiation falls through.”

Joe then brought his face very close to the high-emperor’s, as if he was letting them in on a secret: “Personally, I do hope we get to fight. I’ve always wondered what you guys taste like.” He then flashed a smile that could only be defined as predatory.

While the entire room reeled from the effect of processing what the human had said, Joe got up, and without a second thought, started walking out.

Just before walking out, Joe turned back, and said: “Xan, my man, do not take too long to make your decision, or the decision will be made for you. My offer of ‘Nothing’ stands only as long as I am in orbit around this planet.” He accentuated this by spitting out the chewed tobacco on the floor of the sacred negotiating chamber.

The nbuurhh delegation, still too shocked to respond, followed the human back to his starship. Just before boarding, the human turned back, sporting his predatory smile again, said: “I reaallly hope y’all don’t take up my offer”, and winked.

Then he was gone.

***************************************************^^

On stardate 107.467.77.08777, the Nbuurhh unconditionally removed their weapons of mass destruction, withdrew from the seed world, and submitted to the galactic authority for integration and judgement.

Their one request? No humans be allowed into their sector.

Far away in another corner of the galaxy, Urkignf was watching news of the Nbuurhh capitulation while brewing coffee.

She finished making the coffee, walked back to her cubicle and offered a cup to her colleague, who was extremely hungover.

Her colleague sipped the coffee and let a satisfied “Aah” out.

“Another one bites the dust. How many does this make it?”

“12 out of 12, I think.”

Urkignf waited until her friend finished his coffee (with many slurps), the continued: “Are you ever gonna let them know that your dad retired and moved back to Texas?”

“No, never” replied the human.

“So you are gonna continue to pretend to be “Joe the American?””

“Hey, I am Joe! Joe jr! And I’d have you know I am a full citizen of the United States of America, with voting rights and such!”

“Gotcha” said Urkignf and went back to her work.

Joe Bradbury, Jr. , continued observing her with interest for a few moments, before speaking up again:

“Hey Urkignf, how would you feel about going out to the new sgbyuf place this weekend for food and drinks, just you and me?”

Flashing his best smile, Joe continued: “In earth , we call this ‘a date’.”

The galactic council was in a turmoil.

The galaxy, for the most part, was a peaceful place. No wars, no violence (except for the humans, of course), general pacifism and brotherhood.

All of which has come to a standstill today.

The nbuurhh, an expansive and racist species, has taken a seed world hostage. They were demanding to be left alone, else they would kill all life on the seed world.

The nbuurhh couldn’t be left precisely become they pulled off shit like this all the time. And the galactic council wasn’t sure that they wouldn’t genocide every living thing on the seed world anyways even if they council gave in and agreed to all their demands.

Military intervention was not an option. The nbuurhh would see it coming and detonate their RIP bombs that would turn the seed world into an asteroid field.

For the nth time that day, Yhij, the president of the the council, rued the day he had taken up his position.

“Is there no other way?”

“No Sir”, his aide responded.

Yhij let out a bubble, his equivalent of deep disappointment: “Fine. Send in Joe the American to negotiate.”

The Nbuurhh were expecting a negotiator, however, they had clearly not expected a human. A hushed silence reigned as the burly, bearded human descended from his craft.

“Howdy” he growled, handing off his Stetson to high-prince Jjughub, second in line to the throne, who had come to receive the diplomat. He then took out a cigar, cut it with a cutter, lit it up and took a deep drag before letting out a massive volume of smoke.

“Aah” said Joe, satisfied. A claxon went of nearby as all nbuurhh men , women and children scampered to put on their gas masks.

Joe waited, unfazed, occasionally dragging on his cigar. Once they were done putting their gas masks on he followed high-prince Jjughub into the negotiation chamber where the High-emperor welcomed him.

Inside the sophisticated negotiation chamber, tiny but precise instruments were measuring every single thing that the human did and reporting it to the Royal family. When Joe, after putting out his cigar, withdrew a hip flask from his jacket and took a large swig, First consort Ttryuul fainted. The instruments had just told her that the human was drinking ethanol, a known toxic chemical about 4 times more stronger than the industrial spirits used on the nbuurhh homeworld.

Joe continued to remain unfazed.

More if this gets a good response.

It wasn’t until a millennia that Trogos truly understood his folly.

Trogos was always the mischievous one: a prank here, a trick there, and suddenly some God is out of a favoured possession (or into a humiliating position, preferably both).

But Gods are patient. And they have time eternal.

So it came to pass that they figured out how to deal with Trogos. And the best way was to completely ignore him. After all, you can’t be humiliated by someone you never interact with, right?

Trogos took it about as well as a hive of live wasps in his bread. His whole existence revolved around mischief, and without mischief he started to fade.

In desperation (and a little bit of anger), he created the ultimate prank: He gave away parts of his power to seven misfits, seven human beings who were crazy even by human standards.

This was epic madness even by Trogos standards. Sure to drive all the Gods nuts and make them finally acknowledge Trogos again.

But for a while nothing happened.

Curious, Trogos peeped into the world of the mortals again.

The first human, used his power to bring fire and civilisation to humans. These pathetic creatures could now form city and city states. He died in the process, and his story was told as a cautionary tale.

The second brought maths and science to the humans, and the human civilisation grew by leaps and bounds.

The third created arts and philosophy, and humans became worshipers of beauty, patrons of the abstract.

The fourth used his power to become the immortal empire, the ruler of all human subjects.

The fifth used his power to overthrow and imprison the fourth, with help from second and third. Unfortunately they spent most of their energy in the effort, and died shortly afterwards.

The sixth taught empathy, and medicine, to the subjects of the broken empire, and the humans were back to becoming altruistic.

But the seventh….

The seventh turned out to be deadliest of all. He further distributed his power to his kin, and their clan has slaughtered all the Gods except Trogos. They did this in order to become the new Gods.

Even now, Trogos knows that he is being hunted. The father of the seventh, ancient and brainwashed, imbibed with what originally was Trogos’ power, now hunts Trogos himself. He truly believes that he is a God, lord of the hunt, the Allfather.

And the seventh appears from time to time to Trogos, only to taunt and remind him that Trogos’ time is at an end, and disappear.

And Trogos shivers, and feels cold as his immortality and Godhood slowly leave him. He can already feel the humans forget him, forget that a trickster God name Trogos ever existed.

They only remember the Seventh and his clan now. They believe that the seventh and his clan has always existed.

They worship the Seventh as the only trickster God to have ever existed. Loki.

I hear you. Maybe the best outcome is that the princes in the tower are never seen again.

Pretty sure he and his brother are illegitimate, and have no claims to the throne.

Even if I were to give him the throne, he would probably need a regent, and given how addled the boy is, I do not see anyone competent getting that role. Chances are the boy and his brother lose their heads (literally!) before the week ends, and I lose mine simply for being in line.

Instead, I have taken the throne for now. Once the boy and his brother come of age, I’ll consider handing the crown back to them- provided they prove themselves competent, of course.

Till then, they will be safe under my supervision in the Tower of London.

Henry Tudor says I am an a-hole for not giving the throne rightaway to my nephew. I think Henry is a traitorous leech who wants the throne for himself and getting rid of my nephew is easier than getting rid of me.

So redditors, AITA?

• u/NotRichardTheThird

I did it!

I made the world breaker!

From a young age, I knew that I was different than the rest. My parents, good people, but devout people, believed in a kind, benevolent God. I saw no evidence of any such thing. If God existed, why was the world such a effed-up place?

My atheism made me ambivalent towards God: how can you have feelings towards something that does not exist? But when that disease took my parents, and I saw the loving, caring people I once knew reduced to a slobbering mass, I felt a burning hatred in my heart. If God exists, I will find him, and I will make him pay.

Today, as I finished building the World breaker, I can peel the veil across dimensions. If there is a God, I will find him.

It took me multiple days, but I think I finally have the right settings. As the world before me vanishes, I see an unending horizon of white light. And in front of me, a massive Golden throne. And a being slumped in it.

Is it dead?

“No, not dead”, a voice inside my head: “But close to breaking”

“Good.” I voice out aloud: “Maybe you should have broken and died a long time ago. Perhaps that would have stopped giving false hopes to people “

The voice was silent for a second. “Look” it said.

And I saw a blackness, blacker than black, that was slowly eating away reality. And this being, if it was God, was holding this thing to a standstill. But it was fighting a losing battle, for it could only hold this thing back, not push it back.

Side note: If you wondered why aliens never found us, you know now. This thing ate them.

“What is it?” I asked.

“The devoured. The end of all things. The heat death of the universes.”

“Shouldn’t you be able to defeat it easily?” I sneered: “You are the OG God afterall “

“You misunderstand, child. I am the God of this Universe, while that thing is the end of all Universes that exists and all reality as you know it.”

“It has consumed an infinite number of Gods from other universes and added their power to its own. It’s more powerful than any God in any universe.”

“Eventually I will lose, and it will consume all of this Universe and me and move on to the next one. But till that moment I will hold the line so that this universe can thrive.”

As the horror of this inevitability became clear to me, I sank to my knees. Then for the first time ever, I wept.

I never understood the fascination over soylent green.

Most people go ga-ga over it, but I have always found it suspicious. A plant-based alternative to meat? If it sounds too good to be true, it probably is.

Not to mention the place always gives me the heebies. Call it instinct.

Most of my friends and family have tried the food there already, but they haven’t been able to persuade me. Unlike the sheeple, I do my own research. And I believe the commie liberals in the government are in on a vast conspiracy to turn us all vegan, so that we turn docile.

It was my son who finally persuaded me to try out Longpig’s diner, atleast for research so that I can expose them on my blog (unfortunately all the social media platforms have banned me; and the judge threw out my case on what is clearly an unconstitutional violation of my first amendment rights). I now sit waiting for my plate of soylent green, while secretly broadcasting to my friends. If I go missing, know this: the lizard people are programming us to become vegan so that we all turn into sheep!

Well that was delicious! Tasted almost like bacon, but better! And I was definitely not turned into a vegan! I was able to enjoy my steak (rare) for dinner just a while back!

Will definitely recommend this place on the blog! Looks like this is one place the government doesn’t have its hands on!

Wow! Talk about hostile work environment!

Yeesh! This is the most horrifying thing I have read on this sub!!

Is/was Abraham’s last name Van Helsing by any chance? It is an interesting name for a Vampire

I did not get it

Well that’s easy. He’s Batman!!

Yes. Either accidentally (like you insinuate) or by choice (e.g. let’s build an Ultron to unleash on our enemies if the time comes).

Ura!