the thing that is evil about tabletop games is only like five people in the whole world have to live with specific guys in their head. the essences of a little Matt Paint and Vista Smithsonian live inside me right now and i can’t make that everyone’s problem
being so fucking annoying about a subject on a regular basis that people associate it enough with you to call someone within it “your guy” is so funny. yeah that man is the lead singer of an acclaimed band but he is also My Guy, i guess. that’s true
“i saw a picture of your guy and thought of you. Here” well that man is not real and belongs to the world, but thank you. he is mine. And i’m going to stick beside him
Plot:
A homicidal car tire, discovering it has destructive psionic power, sets
its sights on a desert town once a mysterious woman becomes its
obsession.
This older man moved my skirt aside and I absent-mindedly said “oh sorry” for being partially in his seat and he said “dont be sorry, this is new york” and then showed me all his poetry about observing the world and living as a restaurant worker during the pandemic and we talked about how i worked in a grocery store and as a bartender so i resonated with his work and he told me “i may never meet you again but it’s nice to meet someone worth talking to. I might sound like a world class idiot sage, but you can’t be afraid. That’s no way to live. You have to trust your humanity.” Then he shook my hand and got off the stop before me. Hello. Hello . Hello.
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