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The Battle of Gamestop rages on. Pre-market we could hear the bears in no-man’s land, baiting us towards higher prices so the shorts could do their dirty work. I was stationed at the 13.80 line, and knew the morning was going to be hot. I shoveled a breakfast of tendies and said a quick prayer to Father Cohen. When the bell rang, the bears surged into our trenches. Blood and rainbow fur filled the air and littered the ground. The Diamond Division has seen worse days, and we held firm. As the bears retreated we gave chase to retake ground we’d lost in the past week. As I caught my breath near the 14.50, I could see bodies everywhere; paper hands who had fallen in earlier battles. One of them groaned and reached a hand towards me. I spat on him and kept moving. No honor in retreat, and no sympathy for self-inflicted wounds. This war won’t be won in a day, but it will be won. Tell my wife’s boyfriend to tell her I love her.

idk who needs to hear this but regardless of your channel, you need to remove your Pepe emotes. It doesn’t matter what your intent is, the peepee frog causes harm and I will never feel comfortable in your stream with them present.

So my dad is a raging homophobe. When I was 7 yrs old he nearly beat me to death for sleeping in the same bed as my friend in Minecraft. He overheard me listening to this song and burst into my room. I braced for impact, fearing the worst. Instead he remained silent and I saw this strange look in his eyes that I'd never seen before. He just divorced my mom and told us he is moving to Puerto Rico with his longtime partner Antonio Banderas and he's not coming back. Thank you We The Sus Music!

As the tree blinks from white to red to green, you look at the void under the tree that previously held presents. Fewer this year than usual, but some. How did you get here? Boredom? In March, you felt trapped with your wife and infant. You needed something to pass the time. Something you could throw yourself into fully. “Are you coming to bed?” your wife yells down the stairs. It seemed harmless at first, but as the pandemic drew on, so did your investment. You’ll stop soon, though. “Soon!” you reply, and you hear her feet climb the steps. The lights start to blink chaotically. You cringe because you could only afford the junk strands at CVS. Suddenly they halt—the alternation feature broken—on red. The red fills the room and covers your flesh. You look down at your hands, and they look like they’re bleeding. Like your calls. After a time—hours?—you realize you’re sitting in complete darkness. Your lights have expired, worthless.

I'm actually a pretty advanced bait station designer. While my formal education is a bit lacking, my cad and computer animation skills are really good, and I have some truly paradigm shifting ideas for bait stations, both vr and non vr. currently in the beginning stages of seeking VC funds, really trying to move my operation from San Antonio to Austin, a second location could triple my revenue right now. Obviously right now all our orders are high end custom stations, way out of reach for the avg wsb user. Its my dream to one day be able to produce real bait stations in a production environment. Right now my company is in talks with several engineering firms out of Seoul to take our cum recycling system and some how use the energy from the spent cum to recharge the batteries. While the technology is new. It has huge applications. Imagine when you go to charge your tsla, its powered completely by cum. No longer must we let our nonbiological female prostitutes flush our GOLD down the toilet post coitus, that shit is going to drive our new society. The money we save as a society on sock costs alone is tremendous.

The year is 2021. You look at the television. SIlver fox President Biden announces a vaccine mandate for employees. You clutch your limited edition Trump Funko Pop. It has begun. You gather up all your belongings, and jump into your truck, hitting the highway for the airport. Out of your rearview mirror you can make out a sleek black Prius pursuing you. You make out the numbers “1” “9” “8” and 4” on their license plate. You are able to lose the Prius and arrive at the airport. You are almost free. At airport security You see a young man being dragged away screaming. The guards yell something about him having more than 3.4 oz of liquid. Thankfully you only have an AR 15 on you. The guard inspects it. “It’s for hunting,” you say. They hand it back to you and wave for you to move along. You breathe a sigh of relief. “One more thing.” You turn to see a Guard staring down at you with their beady soulless eyes. “I need to see your vaccination card” It is too late. You try to run away, but you feel someone press a cloth against your face. Reality fades away. You wake up in some kind of lab, chained down to an operation table and gagged. The room is undecorated except for a single poster of Harry Styles in a dress on the wall. A single figure stands in the corner shrouded in shadow, fiddling with a syringe. As they step out of the shadow, you can make out their face, the roguishly handsome Gavin Newsom. He positions a large surgical headlight above you and turns it on. He holds up the large syringe to the light and chuckles, staring into your pleading eyes. “Don't worry, it will all be over soon” He removes his mask to reveal his serpent's tongue, flickering in amusement. He plunges the syringe straight through your “socialism is for figs” shirt into your arm. “Nighty night” Your world fades to black once more.