Newb Cabbage and the Basatard Sword of Slaying

Via Xfire

Heartless: omg you play WoW
DookeeDookee: yes
DookeeDookee: and I like it
Heartless: newb
DookeeDookee: don't hate
Heartless: so what server/level/class?
DookeeDookee: I'm level 10
Heartless: mega-newb
DookeeDookee: Alliance Destromath
DookeeDookee: Gnome Warlock
Heartless: O M F G mega-newbage
DookeeDookee: did someone have a bad day?
Heartless: no just bored. almost time for work.
Heartless: you know I have to keep the hoes in line
DookeeDookee: just because you had a bad day; don't take it out on me.
Heartless: newb
DookeeDookee: so
Heartless: Alliance = 10 newb pts
Heartless: Gnome = 100 newb pts
Heartless: Warlock = +1 respect
DookeeDookee: whats an infernal?
Heartless: dude your newbage stinks like cabbage... newb cabbage

[Bastard Sword of Slaying]

It's 3:41 in the afternoon and I've already answered the door once today to let the pest control guy in. I work night shift so this is my primetime for sleeping. The banging on the door is not going to stop until I open it so I head down the stairs with my [Bastard Sword of Slaying].

I open the door to a quivering young man of no more than 16. "Ummm hey... yeah... ummm do you ummm... want to umm... help me be the... top of ummmm... of my class?". Flashes of red dance inside my head, but I hold the void. "All you have to do is ummm... buy a magazine... ummm and I ummm... get points."

"No thanks. I don't need any magazines." Still holding strong.

"Ummm I have cup holders." he says as he flips through his little flip book. I notice its entitled How to Sell Things.

"No thanks. You can try my neighbors." I can feel my inner rage releasing.

"Aww man... come on..." was all that escaped as his body slumped and his head flopped lifelessly on the cold pavement of my driveway. The strike had been swift and deadly. The [Bastard Sword of Slaying] had performed its duty. Closing my door I returned to my bed and to the Land of Dreams.

It was 4:14 the next time I awakened to the cat calls of a female outside my window. My roomate, Nitro, was outside talking to the buxom beauty. Nay; he was engaged in mental battle. Then like whispers on the wind I heard her utter the words "...buy a magazine...".

Rage is a thing of beauty that no woman can match. The rush and eventual release is nothing a pen to paper can describe. A feeling that must be lived to be understood. It was all a blur from this point on. Red flashes and the feel of my [Bastard Sword of Slaying] fluttered in my mind, but no solid sequence of events could be convened. There was two bodies in the driveway now.